AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You better be,” I say, but I can’t keep the smile off my face.
Dante does a silly little bow, and I wipe at my face, watching him leave before I walk back into the house.
My father is already smiling at me, standing in the foyer. “Did you reconcile your differences?” he asks.
“Not yet,” I say, but I think we have. I think now I can start the road to forgive him.
“Good,” he says. “Just like me and your mother.”
I take his arm and lead him back into the office. “He’s coming for dinner tonight.”
My father nods, and I spend the rest of the day napping in my room. When I wake, it’s nearly seven, and I feel oddly nervous about dressing for dinner.
I finally settle on a simple, white sundress that looks a lot like the one I wore to my wedding reception. This is a starting over of sorts, anyway, so it seems right.
I’m nervous about dinner although I know the chef’s veal lasagna is phenomenal, and I keep going into the kitchen so much that she pushes me out of there, fussing at me in Italian.
I huff and sit down at the table.
Dante shows up at fifteen minutes until eight and speaks to my father at the door.
“I’m sorry about everything, Luca,” he says quietly, and Papa raises an eyebrow.
“Shouldn’t you be saying that to Mia?”
I scramble into the foyer, trying to signal Dante that I haven’t told my father, that he doesn’t have to...
“I was plotting to kill you,” Dante says flatly, and my father blinks at him.
“You were what now?”
“I thought that you killed my parents,” Dante says quietly, keeping eye contact.
My heart is in my throat. My father is a reasonable man, but this is a lot, and I don’t know how he’s going to react. I brace myself to run in between them so Papa can’t hurt him, but instead, my father bursts out laughing.
“Enzo was my best friend,” he says. “I would never have hurt him.”
Dante smiles slightly. “I was mistaken, Luca, and for that, I’m sorry,” he says firmly.
Papa reaches out and pulls him into a hug, patting his back. “Come to dinner, Dante,” he says, and that’s all the forgiveness that passes between them.
Dante sits next to me, gingerly putting his hand on my knee, as if he’s afraid I’ll pull away.
I lean against him, putting my head on his shoulder, and I can feel him relax all over.
“I heard that you’re giving us a grandchild,” Papa says, and Mama joins him, sitting next to him and picking the peas off his plate.
Dante smiles broadly. “I can’t wait to meet them,” he says softly, and my heart seems to swell. Dante has really come around about the baby, and he’s admitted that he loves me.
We all have dinner like a real family, like a real Italian family should be, and I think that Dante’s been missing that, having lost his father. He laughs out loud, sounding free and happy, and it’s probably the brightest I’ve ever seen him.
When dinner is over, Dante asks me again.
“Will you come home with me, pretty girl?”
This time, I can’t say no. I kiss my father goodbye and hug my mother, and head back home with Dante.
“Should I take the guest room?” he asks quietly when we arrive home, and I shake my head furiously.
