Chapter 28
ROMI
The last person I thought I’d bare my soul to was a monster.
Most of last night was a blur; him bathing me, wrapping me in a towel, and soothing me into bed.
Dante didn’t ask any more questions; he was simply there. Silently listening to me wail like a child. I’d held on to all of this for so long that it physically took everything out of me.
When I wake up, Dante isn’t there. The fire is crackling, which means it’s only recently been relit, and I miss the warmth of his body, which had been tightly wrapped around me until I fell asleep.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt at peace.
The exhaustion has been constant, but upon waking this morning, it feels like something has finally shifted.
That I've finally started mourning Lorraine the way I was supposed to from the start.
It was never your fault.
Dante said that more than once, and my mother had said the same thing to me.
I’d even tried to rationalize it within myself, but the self-loathing turned into its own twisted entity.
How could I not feel guilty when I'd stared at her blue, lifeless body?. It’s like I took on all her fights and struggles because it just wasn’t fair.
She had so much to live for, so many extraordinary stories to tell and adventures to take.
And I felt like I was the only one who saw her shining star.
The cabin door opens, and I shoot straight up in bed, but I relax when I see Dante. He’s wearing a flannel shirt that I can’t help but smirk at. It’s very much not him, and yet somehow, he still pulls it off.
“You look like a lumberjack,” I joke.
“I do enjoy anything with a blade,” he replies, and a shudder runs down my spine.
It’s strange to be attracted to a man I know I shouldn’t be. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you saying things like that.”
He comes over to the bed with two coffee cups and a brown bag. When he leans over and kisses me on the forehead, I’m surprised by his gentleness as he says, “You’ll get used to it, Cattivella. I will never pretend to be something I’m not. Not with you.”
I swallow hard, the constant reminder of the dark force that is Dante Moretti, is stifling. But he’s right. If I do dare to pursue this, there are so many things I’ll need to accept about him.
He goes to sit on the edge of the bed, but I point at him. “You’re not putting those muddy boots on the bed.” He glares over his shoulder at me as he removes them.
“As if I’m the one who needs to be lectured about tidiness or cleanliness.”
I’m smiling as I open the bag and see an assortment of croissants, muffins, and donuts. When I take a sip of my chai tea, he takes a seat beside me, cross-legged, and pulls me in so he can wrap his arm around my shoulder, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Don’t start pulling away from me now, Cattivella.”
I elbow him in the ribs, and he doesn’t even flinch. My gaze goes to the wound on his leg, but I can’t see it beneath the new jeans. Fuck knows where he got them from, maybe it's clothing that was already here?
“How’s your leg?” I ask, suddenly starved as I pick at one of the pastries. Sometimes I wonder if he simply hovers like a mother duck, ensuring I eat. What’s even more terrifying is that all of these pastries are my favorite. When the fuck did he learn these small things about me?
“Be careful, Cattivella, you almost sound like you care.”
“I was just wondering if I should shoot you in the other leg to even it out.”
He chuckles. “All stitched up. It’ll heal just fine. Trust me, sweetheart, I’ve dealt with a lot worse.”
I think about the scars on his back. Before I can ask about them, his other hand comes to stroke my arm as he says, “You’re not really going to let Lorraine’s mother win, are you?”
A harsh breath whooshes out of me. Of all the things he was going to say, I wasn’t expecting that.
“Do you want me to kill her?” he asks.
“What? No. And that’s not ever an option with me, okay? You can’t just go killing people because I dislike them.”
He shrugs. “It’s always worked for me.”
My jaw drops. “No. I just—” I exhale again.
I’ve been running away from this like my life depended on it, but I’ve reached the point of exhaustion.
I have to face this head-on now, I know that.
But to do that, I truly have to begin saying goodbye to Lorraine.
And it hurts coming to this conclusion, but the tighter I hold on to her, the more suffocated I become, and it’s not the way to honor her.
“My mother is getting lawyers involved for a defamation case against Meredith, but honestly, I don’t want to deal with any of it.
I don’t want to focus on her mother, when it has nothing to do with her.
I want people to remember Lorraine for her, not because her mother is trying to capitalize on my growing fame or my parents' money.”
I think about my poor agent, who’s been dealing with this on her own for so long. I’ve been selfish by putting her on edge, but everything up until now has been so foggy.
“I don’t want to set out to destroy Meredith. I don’t want to take from her. I just want Lorraine’s memory to be cared for, not dragged out in this ugliness. I need to continue living, even without her.”
He continues to trail his finger over my arm, as if transfixed by soothing me.
“What about your exhibition coming up?” he asks carefully, and I’m surprised he even remembers it. I wonder how trivial my career as an artist must be to someone who literally thrives on the blood and suffering of his enemies. “You should start there first.”
“Why do you think that?” I’m curious, yet again trying to gain insight into the way this man thinks.
“Because you need to find yourself again. Painting makes you happy, so maybe you should use that platform to remember your friend.”
My mouth opens and then closes again. “How do you know my art makes me happy?”
“I might be a monster, but I can appreciate art, sweetheart. And also, because I’ve seen your work. This is just another story to express, isn’t it?”
I narrow my gaze. When did he get so clever with words? So endearing in his presumption of knowing me, even though he's scarily accurate. How would I express this grief, encompassing a way to remember Lorraine, even when I’ve decided to continue living without her?