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He left it for me, for whenever I finally came home.
One hand pressed to my mouth against more tears, I walk into the living room, sinking down onto the couch. Dante’s script is neat and slanted, and I scan the letter, reading it once and then once again.
Emma,
I don’t know how long it will be before you read this. If I’m very unlucky, you may never read it at all. I can’t think about that now, though, because if I do, it means admitting you’re not coming home. I don’t think I can bear that.
I know about the baby. I’m sure you won’t approve of how much I scared Brendan in order to get that information, but rest assured, it took a good few threats before he gave it up. Don’t be angry with him. If you need to be angry with anyone, be angry with me—but I have to be honest and say that I hope you won’t be.
I know you believe there’s no future for us, and I know that’s why you left. I can only hope that I will be able to find you, or that you will come home, and I’ll have a chance to convince you otherwise. Not only because of our child, which I want more than I have words to tell you here, but because ofyou.
I love you, Emma. This isn’t how or where I wanted to tell you, but in case I never get any other chance, I’ll write it here. I love your intelligence, your talent, and your drive, and I even love your fierce independence, even though I know it’s a part of what has sent you away from me.
If I get the chance, I’ll tell you over and over again. I’ll find a way to show you that this can work, if we try.
I just hope you give me that chance.
—Dante
I read it twice,the words settling into me in a way that makes it feel hard to breathe. I can hear it all in his voice, hear the sincerity in every word, and it feels as if it’s tearing me apart.
I want him so badly it hurts. I miss him with an ache I never knew I could feel for someone like this. And I know what I was never able to fully admit to myself before—that I love him, too.
I want to be with him. But I don’t know how to reconcile that and the life he lives. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.
I’m not sure how long I sit there like that, with the letter in my hands, before my phone goes off next to me. I reach for it, thinking that it’s going to be Abby, but instead, I see Dante’s name on the screen.
Slowly, I pick it up. “Dante?”
“Emma.” He says my name in that way that pierces my heart again, like he’s breathing it, like hearing my voice is bringing him back to life. “Did you get my letter?”
I bite my lip. “Yes.”
“Can I come over?”
I know the question for what it is. If I say no, that might be it. Dante loves me, and I know how badly he wants me, but he won’t force me to do anything against my will. If he thinks there’s no path forward for us, he’ll walk away.
This feels very much like the last chance to find out if there is.
“It’s all my territory now,” he continues. “I can do it safely. No one is going to bother me there any longer.”
I take a deep breath. For a moment, I almost end it. But a part of me knows that if I do, I’ll regret it.
“Yes,” I say softly. “Come over.”
The next hour passes in a blur. I stand in the shower for a long time, rinsing away as much as I can of the last day underneath the hot water, wanting to feel clean. I wash my hair, braiding it back before I put on a clean pair of shorts and a T-shirt, opening the door to my balcony so the breeze can come in. I stand in the middle of my living room, and I’m grateful that whatever else happens, at least I’m home.
When the knock comes, it makes me jump. I try to slow my racing heart as I go to open the door, and when I see Dante standing on the other side, I have to shove my hands in my pockets to avoid touching him. Since the moment I saw him earlier today, all I’ve wanted is to feel him kiss me again.
But I know if he does, every single one of my defenses will fall. I’ll never be able to be anything but his, ever again.
“Let’s go down to the beach,” I suggest, stepping back into the house, and Dante nods. He’s quiet as we walk through the house, down the steps to the sand, kicking off his shoes as we reach the bottom of the steps. We walk across the beach, back to the spot where we talked the last time we were here, and Dante sinks down next to me onto the sand.
“I read the letter.” I look down at my hands, clasped in my lap, and then at him. “Dante—”
“I love you.” He turns towards me, reaching out to cup my face in his hand, and I suck in a breath as the touch sends a flood of emotion through me. “I knew I loved you before you left, but I was afraid of it. I should have told you then. I don’t know if it would have changed anything. But I’m telling you now. I—”
He breathes in, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone. “I can’t lose you again, Emma. I’ll leave the mafia behind, if that’s what you need. I’ll turn the title over to Lorenzo.” Dante chuckles grimly. “He’d probably be thrilled, honestly. Whatever it takes—I’m ready to do that. For you. Forourfamily.” His gaze drops to my stomach, and I can see the sincerity in his eyes as surely as I heard it in the letter, earlier.
