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“There was a stop sign back there. Didn’t you see it?”
“Of course I did. Didn’t you notice how I slowed down and checked that there was no cross traffic?”
“But you didn’t stop.”
His jaw tightened as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “Are you always such a stickler for rules?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“It depends.”
Silence settled over them as Dante navigated them out of the city. Every now and then he sneaked a glance at Lizzie. She kept her face turned to the side. The tires clicked over the brick roadway as Rome passed by the window. The cars, the buildings and the people. He’d never been to New York City and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was as beautiful as Rome. The lush green trees planted along stretches of roadway softened the view of block-and-mortar buildings. Thankfully it was Sunday, so the roadway wasn’t congested with standstill traffic.
They quickly exited the city. Now was his chance to find out a little bit more about her before she met his grandfather. His gut told him there was a lot she was holding back. It was his duty to make sure there weren’t any unpleasant surprises that might upset his grandfather. Dante assured himself that his interest was legitimate. It had absolutely nothing to do with unraveling the story behind the sad look in her eyes when she thought no one was watching her.
“Where in New York do you come from?”
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed how her head swung around quickly. “The Bronx. Why?”
“Just curious. I figured if we’re going to be spending some time together, we might as well get to know a little about each other.”
There was a poignant moment of silence as though she were deciding if this was a good idea or not. “And were you raised at this vineyard we’re going to visit?”
Fair was fair. “Yes, I was. It’s been in my family for generations. But it has grown over the years. And now our vino is a household name.”
“That’s an impressive legacy. So how did you end up in Rome helping your grandfather run a restaurant?”
How in the world did this conversation get totally turned around? They were supposed to be talking about her—not him. “It’s a long story. But I really enjoyed the time I spent working with my grandfather. I’ll never forget my time at Ristorante Massimo.”
“You make it sound like you’re leaving.”
Dante’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He had to be more careful with what he said. He could feel her puzzled gaze as she waited for him to affirm or deny her suspicions. That he couldn’t do. He hadn’t even told his family yet that he was planning to sell the place. There was always one excuse or another to put off the announcement.
But now that the negotiations were winding down, he was out of time. He needed to get his grandfather’s blessing to include the family’s recipes as part of the sale. Dante’s gut tightened.
And the other reason he hesitated to bring it up was that he knew his father would use it as one more thing against him. His father always blamed him for Dante’s mother’s death during childbirth. Though logically Dante knew he wasn’t responsible, he still felt the guilt of playing a part in his father’s unhappiness. The man he’d known as a child wore a permanent scowl and he couldn’t recall ever seeing his father smile. Not once.
When they communicated it was only because Dante hadn’t done a chore or hadn’t done it “correctly.” Who could blame him for moving away to the city?
But over the years, his father seemed to have changed—mellowed. He wasn’t so critical of Dante. But was it enough to rebuild their relationship?
“Dante, are you planning to leave the restaurant? Is that why you’re hesitant to help me?”
What was it about this woman that she could read him so well? Too well. “Why would you say that?”
Before she could respond, the strums of music filled the car. He hadn’t turned on the stereo and that certainly wasn’t his phone’s ringtone.
“Oh, no!” Lizzie went diving for her oversize black purse that was on the floor beneath the dash.
“Something wrong?”
“I told my sister to only call me if there was an emergency.” She scrambled through her purse. With the phone pressed to her ear, she sounded breathless when she spoke. “Jules, what’s the matter?”
Dante glanced at Lizzie, noticing how the color had drained from her face. He wasn’t the sort to eavesdrop, but it wasn’t as if he could go anywhere. Besides, if she was anything like his younger cousins, it was most likely nothing more than a romantic crisis or a hair emergency—at least he hoped so for Lizzie’s sake.
Most of the time when he was out in public, he grew frustrated with people who had their phones turned up so loud that you could hear both sides of the conversation. Lizzie obviously felt the same way as him, as hers was turned down so low that he couldn’t hear the caller’s voice. Lizzie wasn’t much help as she only uttered things like: “Okay.”
“Yes.”
