Dreaming Dante (The Adamos Book 7) Read online

  “You done?” Dante says.

  I look up, startled. “Done with what?”

  “Stewin’ about stuff in your head.”

  My lips compress. “It’s all right for you. I have to worry about how everything is affecting my daughter.”

  “You’re a good mom. That’s why you’re here.”

  I can’t wrap my head around that. “What?”

  “What’s good for you is good for her. You getting what you need is what lets you give your girl what she needs. If I were bad for you, I’d be bad for her. And you wouldn’t be here.”

  My mouth drops open. It takes me a few seconds to realize there’s food in there and snap it shut again. I start chewing like an automaton, but my mind is whirling.

  Try as I might, I can’t argue with his logic. And I’ve never thought about it that way before. My whole life revolves around Sophie … but that means taking care of me, too.

  And not just at the level of keeping body and soul together.

  Raising my eyes to his, I say softly, “You’re very wise.”

  I’ve surprised him again. In an equally soft voice, but an octave or two deeper, he says, “If we didn’t have an audience, I’d show you what I’m feeling right now.”

  I squirm some more. “But we have to go to work.”

  “That, too.”

  Rising, I start to clear the table, and we work together until everything is done. When the kitchen’s clean, I ask, “Can you watch her for a minute while I get ready?”

  “Sure.”

  It’s a big step, but Dante’s right. From the start, I’ve instinctively felt safe with him. If my hindbrain considered him a threat to me, or Sophie, I never would have set foot under his roof.

  Still, I don’t waste time getting Gina’s bags and going to work in the bathroom. A minute or two later, I hear the soft, low rumble of Dante’s voice, punctuated by occasional sounds from Sophie. It sounds like it’s coming from the living room.

  Tiptoeing past the crib, I peek out the bedroom door.

  Dante’s sitting in the armchair, Sophie in his lap. He’s reading her a picture book; from the cover, it’s something about animals. Her eyes are glued to the pages, and she’s pointing and saying her own special Sophie words.

  My heart swells, my eyes get wet, and I back hastily away. In the safety of the bathroom, I have to grip the edge of the sink for support.

  I could fall for this man. Really fall for him. In a deeper, much realer way than ever happened with Chandler.

  And right now, I can’t think of a single good reason why I shouldn’t let it happen.

  “Work,” I whisper, and force myself to finish getting ready.

  When we get to the café, the morning breakfast rush is in full swing. Dante parks behind the building, and we come in the back door, where a hallway leads to the office without us having to go through the dining area.

  When the playpen is set up in the corner and Sophie’s in it with her toys, he says, “I’ll be right back,” and goes out. I sit in the chair behind the desk and swing it back and forth, not willing to touch anything until Vic gives me the all-clear.

  A couple of minutes later, Dante sticks his head in the door. “I’ll see you at lunchtime. You need anything, you call me.”

  “Okay.” I give him a little smile, and then he’s gone and Vic’s there.

  Hands on hips, he looks at the chaos. “I don’t have time to show you the ropes on this. Basically, I’d say just start sorting it into categories, like putting all the invoices in one stack, and all the correspondence in another stack. Anything you’re not sure about, put in a question stack.”

  “Easy enough. Thanks, Vic.”

  He shakes his head. “You get this mess sorted out, it’ll be me thanking you.” Crossing to the playpen, he looks down. “How’s my girl?”

  19

  I’m Scared

  “Bic!”

  Sophie holds up her arms, and he hoists her up easily. “Are you gonna help your mom clean up Uncle Vic’s office?”

  Uncle Vic. Did Dante tell him something? Or is he making assumptions?

  Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I watch as Vic kisses the top of Sophie’s head and sets her back down. “I’m right across the hall if you need anything,” he tells me, and goes out.

  The scope of the work to be done is daunting, but the office isn’t going to clean itself. Rolling up my metaphorical sleeves, I get to work.

  By lunchtime, the office doesn’t look any tidier, but there’s a pattern to the chaos. When Vic walks in, I point a finger at him. “Don’t touch anything.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Everything on this side has been sorted into categories. Everything on that side still needs to be gone through. Tomorrow, I can keep sorting, or start filing things to clear more space.”

  “Do whatever works for you, Heather. You’re in charge. Hey, bro.”

  Dante comes in. “Ready to roll?”

  “They didn’t eat yet,” Vic objects. “Her or Sophie.”

  “They’ll be fed,” Dante says, in what feels to me like a somewhat cryptic tone. “But feel free to send takeout with them if you want.”

  “Good idea. It’ll take you a few minutes to pack everything up anyway. Heather, you like French dip?”

  “It’s my favorite.” How did he know?

  “Great. And how about a grilled cheese for the little lady?”

  “Perfect.” Maybe Vic is a food psychic.

  It doesn’t take long to pack up Sophie’s toys so Dante can put the playpen in the back of his SUV, but Vic works fast. By the time we’re ready to go, he has a takeout bag to hand to me. Sophie and I each get a kiss on the cheek, and then we’re off.

  At first I assume we’re heading to Izzy’s place, since she talked about meeting again today. A few turns later, though, I’m pretty sure we’re heading in a different direction. Sure enough, we pull up in front of a home I haven’t seen before, in an older neighborhood similar to the one we went through on the way to Dante’s.

  It’s a basic ranch house, but immaculately kept. The siding has been recently painted, the roof looks new, and the yard is beautifully landscaped. If whoever lives here ever sells, their realtor will be crowing about pride of ownership.

  While we go up the walk to the front door, Dante’s hand rests at the small of my back. My heart speeds up. It’s a casually possessive gesture, but at the same time not casual at all.

  The door opens before we can knock or ring the doorbell. A short, softly rounded woman in her sixties stands back to let us in. Like her surroundings, she’s picture perfect, from her clothes to her hair to the subtle hint of perfume she wears.

  I’d be intimidated, except that her eyes are so kind.

  And then Dante says, “Heather, I’d like you to meet my mother, Carlotta Adamo. Mom, this is Heather Gardner and her daughter Sophie.”

  My smile freezes on my face. Carlotta looks from me to her son. “You didn’t tell her whose house you were taking her to?”

  Dante opens his mouth and then closes it again. Carlotta lets loose with a stream of Italian. Judging from her tone of voice, she’s dressing him down, not harshly but very firmly.

  Since he’s more than a foot taller than she is, it’s hard not to laugh, but I manage it. Barely.

  Carlotta turns to me. “Welcome, Heather. It’s a pleasure to have you in my home.” She’s gentle, gracious, and so sincere that I can’t help relaxing.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Adamo. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Please, call me Carlotta. We don’t need to stand on ceremony.” She smiles at my daughter. “And this is Sophia. What a lovely child.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be back between five and six to pick you up,” Dante says to me. Then he levels a look at his mother. “No invasions.”

  No what? I glance between them, not sure I heard correctly. Carlotta’s chin comes up. “And since when, Dante Adamo, do you tell
me what I can do in my own home?”

  “Ma, she doesn’t need that.”

  Out comes the Italian again, but this time Dante answers her, and they’re clearly arguing. It’s fascinating to listen to. Judging by her wide eyes, Sophie agrees.

  Since I don’t speak Italian, their conversation is mostly a jumble to me. One word, though, stands out. Familia.

  She lets him have the last word, but I’m not at all certain that means he won. Dante comes to me. “You want me, you call. Don’t worry about me being at work. Just call.”

  I still don’t know what’s going on, but I understand he’s making me a promise. “I will.” And that I’ve just made one in return.

  The set of his jaw softens a bit. “Good. I’ll see you soon.” He grazes the backs of his knuckles over Sophie’s cheek, very gently, then bends down and touches his mouth, feather light, to mine.

  Oh. I watch him walk away, my lips tingling, my fingers over them as if to keep him with me. Carlotta moves up to stand at my side.

  I’m not aware the words are there until they come out. “I’m in love with your son.”

  “I know, dear.”

  Slowly, my head turns until I’m looking at her. “I’m scared.”

  “Love is a powerful and frightening force.” She smiles. “And the only thing that can heal the world. Shall we go and sit down?”

  20

  Hold On

  Over the course of the afternoon, I learn what an invasion is.

  Women drift through the house, Adamos all, whether by birth or marriage. They come in groups of three or four or five, stay a little while, and then slip away again. Some of them are outgoing by nature, others more reserved, but all of them pull me into their greater whole.

  Familia. Family. Old and young and in between, they weave invisible bonds among themselves and me and my daughter. Gentle strands, of solidarity and understanding and support.

  Sisters. Grandmothers. Cousins. An unbreakable network of love, forged over a lifetime ... and over an afternoon of tea and cookies and cake.

  By the time the last of them kisses me goodbye and goes out the door, I know my life has been changed forever.

  I’m awed, humbled, grateful — and absolutely terrified.

  I’ve never had a family. I don’t know how. What if I mess this up? Destroy the priceless gift I’ve been given?

  Dante and I aren’t a sure thing. We’ve barely met. Anything could go wrong.

  When Dante arrives to pick me up, he takes one look at me and says, “You’re stewin’ again.”

  I can’t deny it. He gives his mother a kiss. “I need to get my girl home.”

  My girl.

  Home.

  Something sharp inside me fractures … but in the wake of the stabbing pain comes a sudden wave of peace.

  Taking care of Sophie means taking care of me. Suddenly, I know what I need. When Dante starts to usher me toward the door, I stop him. “Can you just …”

  Tentatively, like a child learning to walk, I edge toward him. When I’m close enough, I put my arms around him. Lean against his chest.

  And hold on.

  As soon as I touch him, he pulls me close and bends his head to mine. I’m sheltered in his arms, completely protected by a fortress of warm flesh and solid muscle. We stand there a long time, as the broken pieces of my past knit themselves together.

  Finally, I turn my head toward Carlotta, who’s standing nearby holding Sophie. “You were right.”

  She comes to us, hands my daughter to Dante, and folds me into her arms. “I am so very glad my son met you.”

  Now I’m about to blubber like a baby. I can’t speak, but words aren’t needed. Carlotta reads what’s on my face and smiles her benediction. A kiss for Sophie, and she sends us out into the golden summer evening.

  We don’t speak on the drive home, but Dante holds my hand the whole way. At the house, BeeBee greets us with frantic barking that sounds like more than happiness to see us. “She seems upset. Is she warning us about something?”

  Dante watches her dance in frenzied circles around my daughter, somehow accomplishing this without ever bumping into her. “I think she’s unhappy that we all went away — especially Sophie — and left her here.”

  My heart squeezes. “Could we maybe bring her with us tomorrow?”

  “I suppose. Hell, Rico brings his dog, because she has separation anxiety; she wrecks the house if she’s there by herself. If BeeBee’s at home, she can go outside whenever she wants, and all we have at work is pavement. But maybe she’d rather be with her people.”

  Her people. I get another warm glow, but his comment reminds me that I still haven’t met his other brother. “Is Rico older or younger than you?”

  “Older. By two minutes.”

  I gape at him. “You’re twins?”

  “Yep.”

  “There are two of you?”

  He grins. “We’re different in a lot of ways, but physically, Rico and I are pretty much a matched set.”

  “Holy cow.” I make a note to take BeeBee over to the garage tomorrow as an excuse to meet Rico.

  After dinner and Sophie’s bathtime, after she’s asleep in her crib, Dante and I pick up where we left off this morning, me on top in the big bed. He lets me ride him until I come, and then he rolls us over and powers into me until we come together.

  Later, snuggled in his arms, sleep wrapping itself around me like a warm blanket, I wonder how my life could have gotten so perfect in less than forty-eight hours.

  As if.

  21

  I’m The Destination

  The next morning, we pack up the dog’s food and water bowls along with Sophie’s supplies. When the harness and leash come out, BeeBee goes nuts. She sits at my feet during the drive, vibrating with excitement.

  Dante holds my hand again.

  I arrive at the café feeling on top of the world and as soon as Sophie’s taken care of, I launch into the office project with renewed energy. By midway through the morning, I have put every single piece of paper in the office into either a category stack or a question stack, the latter relatively tiny.

  So when Vic comes in to suggest I take a break, I’m ready to take him up on it. With Sophie on my hip and BeeBee on her leash, we head across the parking lot to the garage.

  I spot Rico right away. It’s easy; I just look for Dante, and there he is, dressed in oil-stained coveralls. Even knowing what to expect, it freaks me out a little bit to see him.

  The bays are all full, with more vehicles waiting their turn — the garage is as busy as the café. I spot Gilda, torn to pieces. What on earth are they doing to her? It looks like a lot more than some hoses and a water pump.

  The garage doesn’t look like a safe place for a dog, so I angle toward the office door to the side of the bays. I’m almost there when the door opens.

  A young woman stands smiling at me. She’s around my age, with curly golden-brown hair and a pixie nose. “You must be Heather. I’m Mickey, Rico’s wife.”

  Oh. Wow. “I didn’t know Rico was married.”

  “Just a few months.” She holds the door open for me, and I go inside. A dog around BeeBee’s size, with a shaggy coat, gets up from her bed under the counter and greets her canine visitor.

  “That’s Valiant,” Mickey informs me. “We call her Val. Rico rescued her when she was a tiny puppy.”

  Her gaze goes to Sophie. “Can I hold her?” There’s something a little eager in her eyes, her voice, that makes me examine her more closely.

  That glow to her skin, the overall air of vibrant health … “Are you pregnant?”

  She beams at me. “Rico and I wanted to start a family right away. We just told everyone last week.”

  A dull buzzing starts in my head as I watch her bounce my girl on her hip and coo to her. Dante’s twin brother … recently married to a much younger woman. And now, even more recently, expecting a child.

  And just in the nick of time, here I come, a much youn
ger woman with a young child.

  Instant family.

  All the bonds that grew yesterday, during the invasion, seem to wither away, crumbling to dust inside me. It was all an illusion. One big lie.

  I should have known a man like Dante couldn’t have wanted a girl like me. Not for my own sake.

  He’s just using me, the same way Chandler used me. I’m a means to an end. Nothing more.

  “Hey.” Mickey’s peering at me, a worried expression on her face. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” Automatically, I reach out and take Sophie from her. “Could you, um, keep BeeBee with you for a minute? I need to go see about something.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I don’t answer. Pushing the door open, I start back across the parking lot. All I’m aware of is an urgent need to get away from here.

  I’m a hundred yards from the street when the squeal of tires on asphalt sounds nearby. A nondescript sedan makes a sharp turn into the parking lot, and I watch it with a kind of detached curiosity, wondering where they’re going and why they’re in such a hurry.

  The car tears around the parking lot in a big loop, and not until it’s almost upon me does it dawn on me that I’m the destination. It screeches to a stop next to me, and the driver leaps out.

  He’s in a different vehicle than the one he used to chase me around near the daycare center, but I recognize the flat eyes, the thin, cruel mouth, and the ill-fitting suit. I take a step back, but it’s too late. He’s on me.

  “You’re a difficult gal to find, missy.” His hand closes around my arm so tightly that I know I’m going to have bruises. “You’ve caused me a lot of trouble.”

  He hauls me toward the car and shoves me in, Sophie in my arms, straight across the seat to the passenger side. I reach for the handle on that side, but it’s been stripped. There’s no way to get the door open.

  As the PI scrambles in next to me, I hear frantic barking. BeeBee is racing toward us, trailing her leash. Behind her, running flat out, are Mickey and Rico and all the mechanics.