Page 90 of The Billionaire Invitation

She swallowed thickly, the memory in stark contrast with the dinners she had eaten without him. Now that Dante had left, she’d once again set a table for one.

She skimmed her notecards but the words she wanted to say weren’t on them. So she set them aside on the podium and spoke from the heart.

“We always talk about losing loved ones. Experiencing a loss in our lives when they pass away. But what we fail to acknowledge is that they are here in spirit. We are all energy. Nothing is created nor destroyed. Christian is here with us tonight, just beyond our five senses.

“And then there are people in our lives who are not geographically here, but very much alive. Like my parents, who have loved and supported Christian and me every moment of our lives. Instead of grieving that they aren’t here tonight”—she smiled at the table in front of her—“I am grateful for you lovely people sitting in those seats. Loving people means letting go of our own expectations for them and letting them be who they are truly meant to be.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she said those words. She thought of Dante and how she’d let him go. A hard pill to swallow knowing he was here, but not here here.

“Christian taught me that healing is a journey. One without a final destination. Even now, he lives on. Right here. In this room. If we’re lucky, we will cherish the journey we are on and spend less time looking for the end of it. We must enjoy the people whose paths we cross. And if they step onto a path we can’t follow, we can carry them with us in our hearts instead.”

She sniffled but held her smile. She hadn’t followed Dante the first time he’d gone to California because she hadn’t been able to follow him. This time she’d been able, but unwilling. She had to walk her own path.

“Tonight, I am dedicating the launch of my nonprofit Long Live Food to my brother, Christian. Not because he’s no longer here, but because he was here. And he walked the path with me as long as he could. I was lucky to walk side by side with him for a while. Now that the path has forked, he’s where he is and we are here. And we are going to make a difference in as many lives as we possibly can until those paths inevitably fork as well. Thank you.”

The applause was exuberant and overwhelming. Many guests stood from their seats. She waved as she stepped from the stage, taking the hand that appeared to help her down the stairs. Careful not to become tangled in the long skirt of her dress, she navigated the steps.

“Thank you so much, I—” She choked on the rest of that sentiment when she met eyes with Dante Crane. He was here, her hand in his, his dark eyes tired but intense.

“You— You’re in California.”

“I was. I came back.”

She blinked out of her stupor when the rational part of her brain reminded her of the reason he was here. This was his grant money in action. There were photographers. This was business, plain and simple.

She gave him a measured smile. “I appreciate you showing up. Your support means a lot to Long Live Food.”

“No.” His eyebrows met over his nose. “I came back for you. I came back…for us.”

She shook her head, unwilling to believe that he would show up for her. He had left without saying goodbye, and he hadn’t given her any clue that he would ever come back.

“Um, excuse me for a moment.” She turned toward the exit where lots and lots of cameras and smiling people were watching her. She froze in place, unsure where to go next.

“The magazine cover and article have been the talk of the town,” Dante said from behind her. “They expect a statement.”

“Because you’re here,” she turned her head to whisper. Dante’s presence had a way of tilting the world on its axis. “I don’t want to give a statement.”

“You don’t have to. Come on. This way.” He took her hand again and steered them toward the same balcony where they’d stood that first night they reunited.

She dropped his hand and inhaled the chilly night air. As goosebumps rose on her skin, she blew out that breath. She hadn’t had a drop to drink tonight, but Dante made her feel like everything was spinning.

“I was wrong,” he said.

“On that we agree.” She elevated her chin.

“I was wrong to offer you less than what you deserve.” He took a step closer but didn’t touch her. “You didn’t need me to do any of this—the charity launch, the magazine. You would have found your way. I’m not here to rescue you. I’m here to be chosen by you. If you’ll have me.”

His face was etched with pain, his lips pressed tightly together. He’d pushed his hands deep into his pockets, making his shoulders pull forward. He looked different. He looked…like he had when she’d met him. A little lost. But very determined.

“I offered to stay and see the launch through because I couldn’t believe something this good could happen to me twice. That you would love me again. That we could last. I know I blew the second chance, and probably don’t deserve a third, but…” He licked his lips. “I guess I’m hoping you’ll be…well, you. And that you’ll forgive me for being a selfish prick who offered logic instead of love.”

She couldn’t move. She was Han Solo encased in carbonite. A still life.

“I love you,” he said, proving that she wasn’t dreaming. “I want to be with you. Not because I want to help or because of the grant. I mean, I do want to help, but that’s not the reason I came back. I was afraid that walking away from the life I built in Los Angeles would be giving up. Running out on the people who needed me.

“Then when I went home, and it was like stepping into a stranger’s life. I didn’t want to be there for one simple reason: you weren’t there. Eight years ago, you changed me. It took me a while to realize it.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks.