Page 45 of When Sinners Fall
I pull out my phone and text Dante.
Thank you for the adventure.
But he doesn’t text back.
~
The following day, I make sure I’m in the office early. I have a planning update meeting scheduled with the bride whose wedding is next on my calendar, and we have a few decisions to make based on the information coming back from her first-choice vendors. Nobody mentions my absence, and I wonder if it’s because of the speech I gave to Louisa the other day.
I don’t hear from Dante all day, and I begin compulsively checking my phone.
Nothing.
Even walking home, there’s no feeling that he’s following me or watching, and I’m hit with an unsettling disappointment. I end up making a small dinner that looks utterly unappealing and sit down, exhausted from the adventures of the last few days.
As I lift my fork, my phone buzzes, and Dante’s name appears.
“Hey!”
“Be ready at eleven. I’ll pick you up.”
“Please, can we leave it tonight?” I want to see him, but going out?
“No, we’re heading to Austin.”
“Austin? Dante, it’s late. I’m dead on my feet already. I could really do with something low-key. Can we grab dinner? I’ve not eaten yet.” I look at the packet-pasta stodge on my plate.
“Not what I had planned, Wren.”
“Will I ever have a say in what we do? What’s wrong with staying here?” I argue, feeling the edges of my temper and patience cutting in. “Hello?”
I look at the phone screen and see he’s hung up.
I take a deep breath. This is the third time he’s come and whisked me off to someplace miles away, and the thread of worry as to why is now taking hold. It’s like the last few days have vanished. We walked the streets hand in hand, grabbed coffee, and danced. We acted like a couple. Just two people living life and enjoying each other. Here, it's the opposite.
Part of me knows it’s only a matter of time before he’s going to show up at my door because, well, it’s Dante. And sure enough, less than half an hour later and he’s banging down the door.
I swing the door wide open. “What?” I’m pissed off but feeling much more awake.
He barges straight past me and into the house. “Don’t what me."
“Hey,” I slam my door shut. “I agreed to plenty at the beginning of this, but nowhere did it say you’d speak to me like trash.”
“I don’t want to take you out around here.”
“Why?” I challenge.
“You know why.”
“So, you don’t want to be seen with me? Are you embarrassed?” My voice stays firm, and I hide the fear my reasoning might cause.
“No.”
“Then what? Because I seem to remember something about being all in. Well, I’ve messed up at work, dropped everything and done everything you’ve asked, or more like demanded, even when I’ve been unsure. Where is the all in from you?” I stand and wait.
He doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he’s a hair-trigger away from reacting.
“You can’t pick and choose, Dante. If we’re all in, we’re all in. That means going to grab something to eat around the corner or going to a bar. It’s not all about out-of-town dirty clubs. That’s not a relationship. I’m fine with exploring and testing boundaries, but there’s more to this.” I motion between us. “More to us than that. Or so I thought. If I got that wrong, then you better tell me now.”
