Page 226 of Anti-Heroes in Love Duet
Six hours later, when I woke, the feeling had started in my chest.
There was no reason for it yet.
We were on our way to start a life in Costa Rica. Dante had even bought me a Spanish phrase book from a tourist stand in Naples.
But something felt off.
I used the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, surprised when I looked in the mirror to see how much I’d changed during my three weeks in Italy. My hair was threaded with gold from the sun, my skin warmed with a tan. But it was my eyes that seemed so very different.
I blinked at the dark gray orbs, noting the smile lines pressed to their corners, the wakefulness of my expression. In New York, I’d been so unhappy and constantly exhausted from work and spiritual melancholy that it had reflected in my face in a way I hadn’t even noticed at the time. My eyes were clear of dark circles and bags, my pale, indoors-only skin was rich with color and a healthy flush, my cheeks weren’t as gaunt, and my hair looked shockingly nice in its natural wavy state.
I was even wearing something different than my usual neutral suits and silk blouses. The Dolce & Gabbana dress was cut simply, sleeves with an A-line skirt, but it had a bold pattern of bright flowers I’d chosen because it reminded me of Italy, and I wanted to take a piece of that with me when we left.
I looked like a new woman as much as I felt like one inside my soul.
My smile hooked one cheek and then the other until it dominated my entire face.
Momentarily, I forgot about the tight feeling in my chest and exited the bathroom into the hallway leading to the main seating area of the plane.
“You should tell her.”
I froze.
“Stai zitto,” Dante ordered blandly.
Shut up.
“No,” Frankie insisted. “You’re being astronzo,so I won’t shut up. This is the woman you just made your wife, D. You exchangedfede. You know what that means?”
“I may not have been born in Italy, but I speak the language better than you,” he countered, still mild but with a current of agitation threading through his tone.
“It means ‘faith,’” Frankie continued, unperturbed. “Those rings are a symbol of faith in each other and your relationship. Don’t make her doubt it when you’ve just begun. She’s stubborn. She might not forgive you.”
There was a noise like someone moving and then Dante’s voice, all passivity lost. “You think you know her better than I do?”
“I think I knowyoubetter than you do sometimes. You’re setting yourself up for failure like some goddamn martyr.”
“Basta!” Dante snapped.
Enough.
My heart was a lead weight in my belly as I pressed myself against the wall and tried to breathe.
What the hell were they keeping from me?
After Cosima’s reveal about Salvatore being her father, I truly hadn’t thought Dante would lie to me again, even by omission.
Where was hard-hearted, skeptical Elena?
Had she been buried alive by love?
I sucked in a deep lungful of recycled plane air and moved into the living area.
Neither man looked up from their work.
I moved to Dante, who sat in a big chair facing the back of the plane working on his computer. Without asking, I moved the laptop, closed the screen, and placed it on the table beside him. He watched me with curiously flat eyes as I got into his lap and pressed my nose to his throat.
His citrus and musk scent would forever remind me of Italy now, and that wasn’t a bad thing.
