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When the taxi pulled up and they climbed inside, exhaustion coursed through Lizzie’s veins. It was so tempting to lean her head against Dante’s shoulder. They’d both been worked up. They’d both said things that they regretted. Everything would be all right when they got back to the apartment.
Satisfied that everything would work itself out, she leaned her head against him. She enjoyed the firmness of his muscles against her cheek and the gentle scent of his fresh cologne. She closed her eyes, noticing the beginning of the predicted aches setting in. But if that was all she ended up with, she’d be grateful. It could have been so much worse.
But she noticed how Dante didn’t move. He didn’t attempt to put his arm around her and draw her closer. He sat there stiffly and stared out the window. Maybe he was embarrassed about his heated reaction. That was understandable. She was horrified that she’d wrecked his car. Once they were home and alone, they could sort this all out.
CHAPTER TWENTY
IF THERE WAS another way to do this, he didn’t know what it was.
Guilt ate at Dante. Though the ride back to the apartment was only a few minutes, it felt more like an eternity. And having Lizzie nestled against him only made him feel worse about his decision to end things. But he just couldn’t live like this—always wondering when the good times would come to a crashing halt. And now that he’d had a small sample of what the pain and agony would be like—he just couldn’t commit himself to a relationship.
The sooner he did this—laid everything on the table with Lizzie—the less pain they’d both experience. It was what he kept telling himself on the elevator ride to the penthouse. But somehow he was having trouble believing his own words.
It was nerves. That was it. He didn’t want to hurt Lizzie any more than he had to. But in the end, this was what was best for both of them. After all, her life was in New York.
Once they stepped inside the apartment, Lizzie moved to the kitchen area. “I’ll need to make a list of what we need from downstairs.”
“For what?”
“The party. Remember, we’re in charge of the food. Your father wants to taste your cooking.”
The party where she would be introduced to his extended family—the party where people would start hinting about a wedding. His aunts were notorious for playing the part of matchmakers. That was why he ducked them as much as possible.
Dante sighed. This was all getting so complicated now. “Lizzie, can you come in here so we can talk?”
She rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a pen and paper. “It’s already getting late. We really need to get to work on the food prep. You never did say how we’re going to get all of this to the vineyard. You know, it might be easier if we’d take the supplies there and prepare it—”
He’d heard her ramble on a few occasions and each time she’d been nervous. “Lizzie, stop!”
She jumped and turned wide eyes in his direction. He felt even worse now that he’d scared her than he did before. He was making a mess of this.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted your attention.” He walked toward the black leather couch. “Come here. There’s something I need to say.”
Lizzie placed the pen and paper on the kitchen counter and hesitantly walked toward him. She knew what was coming, didn’t she? It was obvious this wasn’t going to work. He just wasn’t cut out to be anyone’s better half. He’d laugh at the thought if he wasn’t so miserable.
She perched on the edge of the couch with her spine straight. “Is this about the restaurant? About your meeting today. Did you go through with the sale?”
That was what she thought he wanted to talk about? He scrubbed his hand over his face. “No, this isn’t about that.”
“Oh. But did you sell it? Not that it’s any of my business. But I was just curious because of Massimo—”
“You don’t have to remind me. I know that my grandfather put his whole life into that business.” And this was just one more reason why he needed to end this relationship. She was already influencing his decisions—decisions that only a couple of months ago he hadn’t needed or wanted anyone’s input. “No, I didn’t sell the place.”
“I didn’t think you could part with it. It’s in your blood. You’d be lost without the restaurant.” A hesitant smile pulled at the edges of her lips. “Massimo will be so pleased to know the restaurant is in safe hands. It will make his birthday gift even more special.”
The collage. She’d been hurt because of him—because he’d forgotten to pick up the present. Guilt ate at him. An apology teetered on the tip of his tongue, but at the last second he bit it back. Comforting her would only muddy things. He had to end things as cleanly as possible—it would hurt her less that way.
“There’s something else we need to talk about.” There, he’d gotten the conversation started.
Lizzie sent him a puzzled look. “But we have so much to do for the party—”
“Don’t you see, we can’t do this? I can’t do this.” He turned his back to her, unable to bear the weight of seeing the inevitable disillusionment on her face. “We were kidding ourselves to think that we could ever have something real.”
“What’s going on, Dante? I thought that we were getting closer. I thought—”
“You thought wrong,” he ground out. He hated himself for the pain and confusion he was causing her.
“You...you’re ending things because I screwed up and wrecked your car?” The horror came across in the rising tones of her voice.
