I force myself instead to think of the pain - of that night when everything fell apart. The years have done little to dull the hurt, to make me forget."Ash," Dante says, the rumble of his voice drawing me back into the present. He's still touching me - in fact, his hand has curled around the side of my face, and his eyes have softened just enough to make my insides go weak.I turn my face away from him."I don't know what you want," I say, "but I have nothing to give you.""Because of Jack.""Among other reasons."I don't have to be any more specific than that - I can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows I'm referring to how things ended between us the last time around. But he doesn't rise, doesn't look away."Ash.""Don't," I say, holding up a hand. "It doesn't matter now."He presses his lips together. That's another thing he always did when he was working through a plot issue in one of his scripts.And then he leans toward me. And though he doesn't touch me this tim
Dante's fingers freeze on my neck. His eyes are as deep and as vibrant as the ocean. "You were always a puzzle to me, Ash. As passionate as they come, quick to laugh and quick to anger, and at the same time so determined to bury your deepest, truest emotions way down inside." His thumb slides in a soft, slow arc against the front of my throat."I don't have to share everything with the world." I already seem to share way more than I'd like."No." There's a hint of a smile on his lips. "But you can't hide your emotions, Ash. Never completely. It's not in your nature. They shine out of you. Gleam through the cracks. Dance in your eyes and affect every move of your body. You fight them, but they find their way out."My eyes are stinging again, and even though there aren't any tears, if he's telling the truth, then I guess it doesn't matter whether my eyes are dry or wet or anywhere in between - either way, he can guess exactly how I'm feeling. I don't like it. It makes me feel too bare
It will never be over.The words haunt me. Torment me. Two days later, when I'm bent over a birthday cake in my bakery, they still bounce around in my head, still make my stomach twist and my breath quicken and my heart stutter.Because he's right, isn't he?It's been three years. Three years should be more than enough time to get over someone, even the guy who took your virginity. Even the first - and only - guy you've ever loved. Three years should be more than enough time to get on with your life - assuming you're a normal, well-adjusted person.I chew on my lip as I apply a scalloped band of frosting along the top edge of the cake. I'm perched on a stool today - a necessary adjustment, considering my ankle - and it feels unnatural. Normally I can lose myself in my work - hands-on vocations are wonderful for such things - but today I can't seem to find my zone. I suppose I should be grateful that it was my left wrist, not my right, that was hurt - that would have restricted me e
A week after my conversation with Mama Pat, I'm preparing for my first date in... well, way too long.I survey myself in the mirror. After much debate over what to wear, I settled on a flowy, emerald-green dress that matches my eyes. It has a sweetheart neckline that shows just the right amount of cleavage - and the scattering of freckles on my chest - and the skirt floats out away from my thighs. It's a great dancing dress, the kind that twirls up around you when you spin, but I won't be doing much dancing tonight. My ankle is still in a brace, but at least my doctor has told me I don't need to use my crutches anymore. I'm wearing the only pair of ballet flats I own that fit over the brace. They aren't especially cute, but they'll do. And with some luck, Dean won't be staring much at my feet.I run my fingers through my hair one more time - my wrist, at least, is nearly back to normal - and smile at my reflection. My lips sport a delicate coat of pink lipstick, and my eyes a less de
The date doesn't get better. But it doesn't get worse, either. It's just... fine. A pleasant meal with a pleasant man. But as we prattle on about general, innocuous things, Dante's words about what I need keep coming back to me. My conversations with Dante have never been just pleasant. They aren't always good - some of our recent interactions spring to mind - but they were never just conversations. They were always something more - a startling connection, a sharing of energy, a meeting of two sparks of life. I never really thought about them in that way when Dante and I were together, but it's hard not to recognize it now, when all of it is missing with Dean.But I'm not with Dante, and I don't want to be with him - in any way - ever again. I was lonely when I met him - so unbearably lonely that I'd hidden it even from myself - and he'd been there. He'd started to fill in the empty spaces inside of me. I became dependent on him. If it hadn't been him, it would have been someone else.
Dante is here.Dante, who I'm supposed to be forgetting. Dante, who's supposed to be on a press tour right now. And not just Dante, no - he has someone else with him, too, and as I examine the second figure more closely, I realize it's his brother Luca. They're both covered up - sunglasses, layers, and in Luca's case, a baseball cap, and though both disguises would probably fool any casual observers, they don't get past me. My body is immediately on alert, fully aware of him even across the room.For a split second my heart stops, half expecting Emilia Torres to walk in behind them, but - thank God for small mercies - it's just the two brothers.That's still two more Fontaines than I wanted to see tonight.They stop just inside the door, glancing around. Most people in the bar don't seem to be aware that two of Hollywood's hottest celebrities have just walked through the door, but I can't tear my eyes away. Dante always captures my full attention. And this is the first time I've ev
Dante stands over me, staring at me with an intensity that makes my insides go all twisty."Maybe you should let me walk away," I tell him, and my voice sounds ragged. "Did you ever think of that?""Yes." He places a hand against the bricks on one side of my head. "A hundred times."My heart is tumbling over itself. "Then why don't you?" Why are you still here, making this even harder on me?His other hand comes up on the other side of me, effectively pinning me against the wall. But he still doesn't touch me, even as he leans closer. He's so close I can feel his breath on my face."I've never stopped regretting the last time I let you walk away from me," he murmurs.I can't breathe. But I can't escape from him, either - not from his arms or his words or that look in his eyes."What happened to Jack?" he asks, his voice lower with every word. "Tell me, Ash."I don't know what to say. Part of me wants to continue the lie, to hold on to the one last protective barrier I have betw
"How did it go?" Mama Pat asks.It's two days after my date with Dean - the first time Mama Pat is working since that dramatic evening - and she's nearly bursting as she pulls out her ingredients for a batch of strawberry cupcakes. I'm guessing from her grin that she hasn't spoken to Dean yet."He's very nice," I say. "And you were right - he's really cute."Her eyebrow rises. She knows me too well. "But?""But there wasn't any chemistry," I say, then add, "Sadly. Because he seems like a sweet guy." I still feel a twinge - okay, more than a twinge - of guilt over how I handled things. Because even though I know Dean and I don't have a future, he still deserved better. I still have no idea if he guessed what happened between Dante and me against the side of the bar - he didn't ask where I'd been when I returned to the table, and he didn't ask about Dante at all - but it was clear he knew that there was no point in dragging things out any longer. When he dropped me off at my house, h