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“But I—”
Dante’s smooth voice broke through my protest. “Stay here, baby girl.” As if I had no say in the matter, he turned to Willis. “We’ll take care of her.”
Baby girl? When did I become“baby girl?” And when did Dante Calegari become in charge of my life?
The look he gave me next silenced me with the first “I” that came out of my mouth. I couldn’t keep his gaze. It was too intense. Intensity laced with that unknown quality I had seen when he passed me earlier. I wasn’t a match for him, so I bowed my head and nodded into my tea.
The next few days were a whirlwind of appointments, tears and sleepless nights. Willis came and went, picking me up from the Calegari’s when we had to be somewhere. He slept on their couch one night because the day we made the funeral arrangements was too taxing on all of us. We leaned on each other, and thankfully, we had the Calegari’s as well. I don’t know what I would have done without them. Mrs. Calegari made sure we both ate. Even if Willis didn’t spend the night, he ate dinner with us, not that we were very hungry. We didn’t eat much but Mrs. Calegari’s homemade noodles and sauce were hard to pass up.
No one mentioned it specifically but I’m pretty sure Dante, Gabriel, and their Mom gave Willis advice on how to proceed. Funerals aren’t something you know anything about until you have to plan one yourself. Unfortunately, the Calegari family had experience. Willis consulted me on most things. I had no opinion on the casket, couldn’t even look at them to choose one. But I asked him to let me oversee the flowers and he agreed. It was summer so I decided on an assortment of pastels: zinnias, dahlias, daisies, carnations. Mom liked flowers but she didn’t have favorites, so a variety seemed appropriate. As for the gravestone, I cried so much during the meeting, I didn’t even remember what we decided on. We picked the funeral program together, including the music. Mom and Dad were fans of the movieLove Story, so we had the theme music playing throughout the service.
Making decisions to honor them and their memory was the easy part. We knew who they were, what they liked. But when it came time to pick an outfit for them to be buried in, I froze. I just couldn’t do it. That afternoon I reached my limit.
Lilly and Mrs. Calegari had come to the house with us to help. I left them behind to pick something out for my Mom because I was a crumpled mess. Knowing why we were there, I couldn’t even walk into the bedroom. I turned on my heels and ran straight back to the Calegari kitchen.
That was where Dante found me, sobbing into my hands at the kitchen table.
I looked up when he walked in; tall, dark, and exuding a strength that I desperately wanted at that moment. Rich black hair and burning dark eyes. And there was something in his expression. Just one quick look ...
As soon as our eyes met, my sobs turned to hysterics. I struggled to catch my breath. I don’t know how it happened, but Dante in front of me, arms around me tight, holding me like a vice against his chest. I remember that warmth. And his scent. And that I didn’t want him to let me go.
Ever.
I cried, and cried, and cried, soaking the front of his crisp white shirt. I’d be mortified when I was done emptying buckets of tears on his designer shirt, but when his hand threaded through my hair, cupped the back of my head and pulled my forehead to the crook of his neck, I didn’t care. My arms slipped around his neck and I held on, purging every emotion I had. I hadn’t bottled anything in the last few days. I cried when I needed to cry, which was often, but there was something about that night and Dante’s arms that made me completely surrender.
“I’m making a mess,” I stuttered as I finally started to get myself under control. My makeup stained his white shirt with wet blotches everywhere.
“I don’t care.”
No smiles, just words. Dante’s arms were still around me. I sagged against him, taking advantage of the strength he offered.
“What am I going to do?” I whispered against his chest.
“Survive.”
It was an odd response. I blinked as I thought about what he said. One word, said matter-of-factly, as if it were an order. Iwouldsurvive. I would make it through all of this because Dante Calegari ordered it so.
As my breathing returned to normal, Dante rubbed the middle of my back in slow soothing circles, keeping me tight against him. If I had been in a different state of mind, I would have pulled away. But despite everyone else’s best efforts at comforting me, that was the most relaxed I had felt since I found out about the accident.
I heaved a sigh, knowing it wasn’t going to last. Selfishly, I wanted to stay tucked against his hard chest, but the realization that he was holding me as if I belonged in his arms slowly took over.
His hold didn’t feel forced or reluctant, but natural and effortless. It didn’t matter that I wanted to keep breathing that woodsy, citrusy scent that was quintessentially Dante. I don’t know what cologne he wore, but I wouldn’t be showering that night. His lingering scent brought me peace for the first time in days.
What mattered was that I was shy when it came to men. I got tongue-tied talking to boys my own age. Around a man like Dante, and there were no other men I knewlikeDante, I completely froze. After my emotions had run their course, the awkwardness took over. My heart pounded for another reason. My body left its sagging state and stiffened.
His body changed at the same time. The welcoming warmth hardened, and his arms loosened their grip.
Head down, I pulled away, embarrassed.
“Sorry,” I croaked.
While his arms loosened, Dante didn’t completely let go. “It’s what you needed,” he said as if it were perfectly natural that he held me when I needed someone. Someone? Or was it that I needed him?
I shrugged. Physically, Dante wouldn’t let me go, so I pulled further within myself. I had no more words. I was exhausted from the tears and the pain. Resisting Dante’s comfort took more energy than I had.
With his index finger, Dante tapped me on the chin. When I didn’t respond to the light touch, he grasped my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted my head.
God, if I had to look into those dark eyes, I’d freaking lose it again.
