She became very much aware of that fact moments later when she stood staring up at Dante.
“Oh,” she whispered as his eyes ran over her body wordlessly. His face was grim, and his lips thinned. “What are you doing here?”
He said nothing, just pushed his way past her and into the house. That made her angry, and it felt wonderful. It was the first emotion other than sadness that she’d felt in too long.
“You can’t just barge in here like this, Dante.” She slammed the door and turned to confront him. “I . . .” Her voice faltered when she saw his face. He looked seriously pissed off with her. His eyes had gone dark and intense, and it made her back up until she felt the door behind her.
“Okay, I know you’re upset with me for just leaving the way I did,” she said, trying to keep her voice level. “But you have to understand that I couldn’t, I just couldn’t, go back to your place.”
The fixed, feverish look in his eyes was starting to freak her out, and it made her talk a little faster.
“I wanted to be around people who love me and understand me.” A muscle was starting to tick in his jaw, and she swallowed nervously. Why was he just staring at her like that? She wished he would just say something. She opened her mouth to say something else, but all that emerged was a squeak when he took a purposeful step toward her, then another, and then the third bridged the gap between them completely. He was way too close to her now, and she was trapped between his chest and the door.
She tilted her jaw up and met his gaze head-on. Why did he have to look so formidable? Cleo was aware of her heart beating like a maddened, trapped animal against her rib cage and-even though she knew he would never physically hurt her-she jumped when he brought his hands up.
He palmed her narrow shoulders and with an anguished groan, dragged her into his arms.
“Dante-“
He interrupted whatever she had been about to say by speaking for the first time since entering the house.
“Just shut up for a moment while I hold you, okay?” he growled into her hair, and Cleo sighed and leaned into his embrace, relishing the feel of his protective arms around her.
“I can do that,” she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him close.
“This happened to me too, Cleo,” he said after a long, long silence, and Cleo trembled at his words. “I lost him too and it hurts like hell. I need you. I can’t . . . I can’t do this without you. And I know that maybe I’m the last person you want to be around right now because of the accident, but-“
Guilt reared its ugly head; she should never have said those words to him. He’d been dealing with the same loss, and she had made his grief so much worse by blaming him for their baby’s death.
“It wasn’t your fault, Dante,” she said, leaning back to look up at him. There was moisture gleaming in his eyes. “It really wasn’t. They did an autopsy and he had a chromosomal problem, or imbalance. The accident hastened the inevitable, but our baby would never have made it. I shouldn’t have put that on you. Dr. Klein called me with the results yesterday, and I know I should have called you immediately, but I was just so sad and I felt so horrible for blaming you. Even when I said those things, I knew they were awful and unfair and I wanted to call you, but I-” She stopped and sobbed. “I didn’t know what to say. You must have felt so terrible. I’m so sorry.”
“I did,” he whispered. “I do. Not because of anything you said or did, but because I wanted him. I so badly wanted to be his dad.”
She was crying again, and that was okay because Dante was crying too, and Cleo no longer felt alone.
Dante was still there when Blue and Luc came home from work that evening. Blue invited him to stay for supper, and after a quick glance at Cleo, who nodded, he happily accepted. He clung to Cleo’s hand for most of the evening, and after small talk and drinks on the veranda while they listened to the waves crashing nearby, Blue and Luc excused themselves and went to bed.
Cleo sat on her grandmother’s old rocking chair. She still wore the loose pajamas she had on when he arrived. Dante was on a deck chair next to her, and he took her hand for the umpteenth time that day. They didn’t speak, their silence speaking for them, and after another half an hour in the cool, briny air, Dante sighed.
“I should probably get going,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”
“For?” she asked, genuinely confused.
“Including me.” Oh. The underlying vulnerability in those words hit her hard. He’d been made to feel excluded and alone at a time when he should have had a solid support base, and it was entirely her fault. Well, that would end right now.
“Stay,” she invited.
“What?”
“Stay the night. As a friend.” She wanted to make it perfectly clear that she was expecting nothing more than that from him. He wasn’t obligated to stay with her after all this was over. She didn’t want him to. But for now they each needed the other.
“Are you sure?” he asked, hopeful and hesitant. She thought about it for a moment before nodding.
“I’m sure.” She took his hand and led him upstairs to her room, which was even messier than usual for her, and for the first time since she’d lost the baby, that bothered her. “I’m sorry it’s a bit crazy in here.”
“You should see the penthouse,” he said wryly, and her head swiveled to meet his gaze. She couldn’t imagine the penthouse being anything other than immaculate.
“Seriously?”
“I’ve been at home a lot since it happened, and I didn’t want to be disturbed, so I asked Esta not to come in.” Esta was his cleaning lady.
“Yeah but you’re inherently neat,” she reminded him, and a corner of his mouth tilted up.
“I haven’t been myself these past two weeks,” he said with a shoulder lift.
“And work? You haven’t been to the office much?”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.