Women will betray you, every time. It’s been their nature since Eve.
He repeated those words to my brothers and me many times over the years, and I’d taken his advice to heart since I was a teenager. I’ve always used women for one thing, never truly letting them in or giving them a chance to take advantage of me. Just like my father had advised.
Until now.
And goddamn him, he was right.
What a fool I’d been to let myself believe otherwise.
3
Frankie
I don’t knowwhat to do.
The last time I felt this devastatingly alone, Rico had ditched me at a hostel in the tiny town of Roccette and then never returned.
I stand in the dimly lit driveway, hugging myself to hold back sobs. The heavy turn of the deadbolt from inside was like a punch in the gut. Dante just threw me out.
And it’s all my fault.
How can I blame him? I completely pulled the rug out from under him, blindsided him with a problem I should have taken care of a long time ago but didn’t have the strength to. I’m not much like my mother, but the one trait she passed onto me is her ability to ignore problems until they go away. Even though sometimes, they never do. Putting blinders on means she doesn’t see what’s going on or have to face it. That’s exactly what I did with the Rico situation, and now I’m paying the price.
I still can’t believe Rico showed up here. That he had the nerve to—
Taking a breath, I clamp down on those thoughts. I can’t expend the energy to blame him right now. If I do, it’ll drain me, and I need to focus on more important things first—like where I’m going to stay tonight, and all the nights after it. Tears slide over my cheeks but I wipe them away, trying to keep it together. I don’t want anybody to see me like this. Or worse, see me and start speculating about there being trouble in the Bellanti household. All I know for sure is, I can’t just stand here in Dante’s driveway, completely falling apart.
I start walking without a plan in mind, moving away from the house.
Music plays in the distance where guests are squeezing every last minute out of the festivities. I don’t want to see anyone, so I head farther into the darkness, numb with shock.
How has my life gotten so fucked up? I never should have gone to Italy. I went there with a plan to make my family business better and ended up with a fly-by-night husband instead. Damn you, Rico.
I had thought I’d been in love, despite—or maybe because of—my complete lack of experience with men who showed me kindness and attention. Rico had promised to love me no matter what, vowed to be by my side for better or worse. He’d said all the right things, had promised me the moon…and after the wedding, when he found out I wasn’t a rich winery heiress, he’d still called mebellaeven as he was planning to run away and abandon me.
I never told anyone I’d gotten married. Not even my sisters when they came to visit me in Tuscany. Rico was long gone by then, and I’d tucked my wedding ring safely away, too devastated to look at it again. It had taken my sisters spending the whole summer with me, late night talks over wine with Charlie, sunny days on the beaches with Livvie, evenings spent seeking out the best antipasti plates at local eateries or bright mornings visiting the museums in Florence (before the tourists flooded in), to finally come out of my depression. I’d finally confided in Charlie about my broken heart, but I didn’t mention the wedding.
Truthfully, I thought that if Rico had gone away, then the marriage would, too. After all, he was the one who’d walked out on me—it was obvious he wasn’t interested in maintaining any kind of relationship. And he’d taken care of all the arrangements; I hadn’t needed to do a thing. I just assumed he’d deal with the annulment or divorce or whatever it was and that would be that.
A big part of me was also happy to keep my head in the sand after he left. It was just easier to pretend the whole thing had never happened than to wallow in self-pity, humiliation, the pain of being fooled so completely. So yes, like a child, I’d truly believed my past would just disappear. And now Rico Correa is back, just in time to spoil the new love in my life. A love that had just started to blossom, just started to feel like it had the potential to be...incredible. Blocking my one chance at real intimacy and ripping apart the career I was starting to weave.
I don’t know if I’m more disgusted with him or myself.
Suddenly, I hear the ground crunching underfoot somewhere behind me, and I turn around just in time to see my father materialize from the shadows.
I do a double take, completely forgetting he’d even attended the event today. I saw him briefly when the festivities started, but that was hours ago and there’d been no sign of him since. Judging by his unsteady footfalls, he’s been drinking all day.
“Dad?”
Before I can say anything else, he grabs me painfully by my hair, tugging a giant handful.
“Ow! Dad! Let go!”
My hands find his wrist as I attempt to get him off me, but he only tightens his hold and pulls me closer. The alcoholic stench of his breath hits my nose. Nausea roils inside me.
“I remember you slapping me,” he says, his voice low and ugly.
“And you remember why I did it?” I challenge. He was so drunk that day, I doubt it.
