I wake up slowly, contentedness wrapped as tight around me as Dante’s arms are. Stretching, I catch a glimpse of something flashing in the morning light.
It’s the ring on my left hand, reminding me that I’m going to marry the right man this time. For real. We’d ended our little honeymoon last night with dinner on Dante’s balcony, followed by another round of lovemaking.
I keep waiting for it to become routine or less powerful, but every time we come together, it feels richer. Deeper. Like our connection just keeps getting stronger.
He’s slow to wake up as I rub his back. I debate starting something lovely with him again, but when I glance at the clock I realize it’s late—almost eight a.m. It’s time to begin my day.
“I’m going for a run,” I whisper, giving Dante one last kiss before I roll out of bed and head to the bathroom to change into workout clothes.
“Be safe,” he calls after me. “Don’t forget your phone.”
Outside, the sun is bright and brilliant as I jog down the road. I’d love to just bask in the afterglow of our little vacation, but unfortunately, the real world is waiting. I have things to take care of. Things to clear out of the way so Dante and I can get on with our lives.
Without breaking my stride, I pull out my cell and call Rico. A queasy feeling goes through me just seeing his name on my screen, but I need to get this over with. Because even though Dante promised to take care of the Rico situation, it’s my mistake. My responsibility.
Plus, I might be able to reason with him. Negotiate a deal that we can both live with. The Bellantis can pay some agreed-upon sum for Rico’s half of the Abbott Winery, and in exchange Rico can sign divorce papers and disappear.
That’s the best outcome I’ve been able to dream up, anyway.
The phone rings and rings and finally goes to voicemail. “Dammit,” I curse to myself.
I’m both frustrated and relieved as I tap out a text.
Hi, Rico. We need to speak—and soon.
It takes another mile and a half for me to clear my head and return to the house. I find Dante in the shower when I get upstairs, cleaning up after his own morning workout routine. I quickly strip out of my leggings and sports bra and join him under the steamy water.
He reaches for me, obviously pleased that I’ve chosen to join him.
“How was your run?”
I run my hands down his strong arms. “Not enough to wear me out.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He grins. “We’re already running late and we need to head down for breakfast. But I will take a raincheck.”
We content ourselves with light kisses, and then quickly towel off and get dressed. As we hold hands and make our way downstairs, I can’t help thinking that we have a whole lifetime of togetherness ahead of us. And that for once, I feel the certainty of a man’s love.
In the dining room, Armani and Marco don’t bat an eye when they see me slide into the chair beside Dante’s. Actually, Marco does bat an eye—in a saucy wink—but then he passes me the coffee pot, and I feel like I’ve been accepted into the family again.
It’s almost as if I never left.
“Good morning,” I say cheerily.
Armani glances up from his tablet screen as I pour myself a coffee. “Glad you’re here, Frankie. I’ve tracked down some more of your family’s horses.”
“That’s amazing!” I gush. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this.”
Alain appears with plates of food, including my favorite Tuscan style omelet, made extra cheesy, with rustic toast and fruit on the side. I’m touched that he prepared it my first day back, and I mouth a “thank you” to the chef as he sets my plate before me.
“I’ve managed to locate four of the Friesians so far,” Armani continues, “but I’m afraid the rest of them have been sold across the country already. They’ll be harder for me to track.”
I nod, chewing my toast slowly. It takes several heartbeats before I work up the nerve to ask, “Which ones were you able to find?”
He consults his tablet. “Let me see…we have Maeije, Ytse, Maximum…and Avina.” He taps around on the screen some more. “I may have another lead, or at least I think so, but—”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish as I all but race around the table to wrap him in a hug. Armani seems shocked, his entire body going tense, and I feel him turn his head to look across the table at his brother. The fact that Dante is smiling at us, looking pleased, is probably even more shocking to Armani than my unexpected PDA.
I pull away and pat Armani on the shoulder, composing myself as best I can after my outburst of appreciation. “Thank you. So much. You have no idea what this means to us.”
A whisper of a smile crosses his lips. “You’re welcome.”
I take my seat again and pick up my fork, but I know I won’t be able to eat anything. I can’t wait to tell Livvie the good news. Dante reaches under the table and takes my hand.
“There’s more,” he says.
“More?” I echo. “Are you serious?”
Marco digs into his bacon and eggs while watching us, as if he also can’t wait to hear the news. Dante takes a slow sip of his coffee, drawing out my anticipation just for fun.
“I’m going to have a gate installed in the property fence that separates the Abbott vines from the Bellanti vines. This way the Friesians will be safe at the stables where we keep our trail riding horses for the guests, but Livvie could easily ride over to the Abbott property to use the arenas and keep up with her training. Oh—and do you think Livvie might want to move into the guesthouse? It would make her commute to school a lot quicker and less stressful—”
This time it’s Dante who gets my arms thrown around him.
After breakfast, I check my phone again. Of course, there’s nothing from Rico. I leave him a curt voicemail and send another text to say we really need to talk, so we can “resolve the situation to our mutual benefit.” I use those specific words on purpose—Rico-speak for somebody getting paid off. I figure the implication of money exchanging hands will get him to return my call faster.
On a whim, I scroll through my contacts and try my dad’s cell number, but it goes to voicemail without even ringing. Probably shut off for nonpayment, or maybe he turned it off to hide from everyone, including his own daughters. What a piece of shit. How he ever managed to have three kids with the same woman, I’ll never know. He didn’t deserve us. Any of us.
I look down at my ring and can’t help wondering what kind of mother would have seen the kind of man my father is and then left her children with him anyway. It’s a question I’ve struggled with ever since Mom walked out on us. Because although I don’t blame her for leaving him, I can’t forgive her for not taking us, too.
And I swear to God, if I ever have children of my own, I’ll never do the same.