Chapter Fifteen
“You’re hyperventilating,” Dante said, putting a hand on her knee. “Knock it off, or I’m gonna have to pull over, okay?” His voice was calm. “We’re almost at your house, right? Hang in there.”
Her breath was shuddering in and out at an alarming rate, it was true. Was this what they meant by “triggered”? Her feet felt weird and tingly, and her teeth were chattering.
“What’s your address?” he asked.
“Four…four eighty f-five Chequessett Neck Road,” she said.
At the light, he tapped it into his phone, as talking was not her current strong suit. She tried to slow her breathing, but it was easier to just let her head fall back against the headrest and panic. She could smell the smoke from that day, hear the crackle and roar of the fire. The feeling of Dante Santini putting his arm around her so she didn’t fall, him lifting her into the battalion chief’s SUV. His hand on her shoulder. She heard her own anguish, coming out as keening sobs.
Dante pulled into her driveway. She tried to open the door, but her arms were rubbery, so she waited while Dante came around to help her.
“Easy does it,” he said, holding her upper arm.
“This way,” she whispered, listing up the path toward her little guesthouse, glad for his steadying hand. Otherwise, she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her.
“Key?” he asked.
She handed him her bag, and he opened it, found her keys and chose the right one, then opened the door and steered her to the couch. Her legs did give out then, and she flopped against the back.
The blips and beeps from the vehicle. The siren. Sickly sweat making her shirt and jeans stick to her skin. There was a high-pitched staccato sound, here or in her memory, she wasn’t sure.
“Looks like your dog wants to see you,” Dante said.
Oh. Right. That sound was Connery barking. A second later, the dog jumped on her lap, whining, his little paws pushing against her lap. She petted him vacantly, but her arms felt weak and loose. She’d run as fast as she could from the fire chief’s car to the hospital door, but every step had been in slow motion, her legs unpredictable and weak, Theo, gray faced, waiting for her by the elevator. The rasping sound of her own breath in the here and now.
“Here’s some water,” Dante said. He pressed a glass into her hand. “Go on. Drink.”
She chugged the entire glass. Looked around. Inhaled deeply, exhaled on a sob. Another big inhale, a shuddering exhale.
“Nice and slow, nice and slow. Breathing, when done correctly, is really good for you.” He smiled at her. “You’re safe. You’re home. You’re okay.”
Those were good thoughts.
He went into her bathroom and came back with a wet facecloth. “Put this on your forehead,” he said.
She did as he instructed—it was cold—and closed her eyes.
You’re safe. You’re home. You’re okay. Connery snuggled against her hip. The painful buzzing feeling in her feet and hands slowly subsided, and her breath slowed incrementally.
Seven years was a long time. She’d had seven years since that horrible day. A lot of hours. She was safe. She was home. She was okay.
She reached up and pressed the cooling facecloth against her eyes, then set it on the coffee table and looked at Dante.
“It was you,” she said.
“Yeah.” His beautiful brown eyes were sad. “Sorry for the bad memories. I was hoping you wouldn’t connect the dots.”
“You knew? You recognized me?”
“Yep. The second I saw you.” He took her hand, and his was so nice and warm. “And since you were Lorenzo’s girlfriend, I did the math.” He looked down. “I’m really sorry for your loss, Lark.”
“Thanks,” she whispered. She inhaled slowly, calm now, then shook her head. “I knew I’d met you before. I just…didn’t want to place you, I guess.”
“Did you get there in time?” he asked, and his voice was so soft and deep.
Her throat closed. “No,” she whispered. “But thank you for trying.”
His hand tightened on hers, and he sat back against the couch, his shoulder against hers. “Well, that really sucks,” he said, and she sputtered on a surprised laugh.
“It really does,” she said. Then she started to cry. Not the ugly, heaving sobs from seven years ago, not the panicked gasping in the car…just sad, normal crying. “I was ten minutes too late.”
Dante pulled the throw blanket from the back of the couch, tucked it around her, then took her in his arms and let her cry, her head against his chest.
He didn’t feel like Justin. Didn’t smell the same way. But it felt nice all the same.
You’re safe. You’re home. You’re okay.Her hand curled in his T-shirt, and she knew he wouldn’t take it the wrong way. All these years later, and still the tears could come so fast and hard. As they should have. Justin deserved nothing less.
When she was done, she straightened up, got off the couch and blew her nose. Washed her face. Poured herself some more water, found a beer in the back of the fridge and offered it to him.
“Thanks,” he said.
“Need a glass?” she asked, and he gave her a mock scowl before twisting off the cap and taking a pull.
“What’s your dog’s name again?” he asked.
“Connery. I share him with my landlady.”
“He’s wicked cute.” Connery wormed onto Dante’s lap and licked his chin, and Dante laughed.
Lark took a photo off the wall, went back to the couch and handed it to Dante.
“Justin Dean. We met in kindergarten.”
“Wow. That’s really sweet.”
“It was. He was.” She sat down next to him again, grabbed another tissue and wiped her leaky eyes. Connery stood against her chest and tried to lick her face. “Thanks, puppy. You’re a good boy.”
“You look happy,” Dante said, studying the picture. It had been taken in Venice, the day they got engaged. The gondolier had taken probably a hundred photos of them. He’d hugged them both goodbye.
“We definitely were.” She gave Dante a watery smile.
“So tell me about him,” he said, and she did. Oh, she did.
Once she started talking, she couldn’t stop. Their fateful kindergarten bonding. The science fair project about photosynthesis when they were eight. Fourth-grade gym class, where the gym teacher had them hold on to the edge of a parachute, raise their arms and then slide underneath it as the fabric billowed and floated above them. She and Justin lay next to each other, and it seemed like they were the only ones in the room. How Joey Weiner had chased her at recess, trapped her against a tree and was trying to kiss her in fifth grade, and Justin had shoved him away.
She got out her photo albums, kept meticulously since grammar school, and showed him pictures of her, her family, Justin, Heather and Theo. She couldn’t seem to stop talking. He didn’t seem to mind.
“How are his parents doing?” Dante asked.
“Well…they’re still here on the Cape. I see them a lot. But he was their only child.” Her voice turned into a whisper on those last couple of words.
“So tough. I don’t know how people handle it, losing a kid. Worst thing ever.”
“It really is.”
“And who’s this? Miss Trunchbull?” he asked, pointing to a picture of her mom’s mother.
“That’s my grandmother.”
“Oh, shit,” he said. “Sorry. I meant to say, ‘Who’s this beautiful older lady?’?”
She laughed. “No, it’s okay. She’s kind of…sour. When Justin died, she told me I was too young to get married, anyway. That was it. Nothing else.”
“Wow. Did you punch her?”
“I wanted to. Also, how do you know who Miss Trunchbull is?”
“I’m not illiterate, Dr.Smith, no matter what my brother may have told you.” He paused. “Also, Izzy came to a Halloween party dressed as her last year.”
“Please tell me you were Matilda.”
“I admit nothing, but Izzy might have pictures.”
She laughed again. “Hey, are you hungry? I should make you lunch, or gosh, dinner, I guess. Dante, I’m so sorry. I’ve taken up your whole day.”
“You hear me complaining? Sitting here on the Outer Cape with a pretty girl? I’m doing just fine. But yeah, I’m also starving.”
“Let me make you a sandwich.” She got up, opened the fridge and sighed. “Let me take you out for dinner. Or no! Hang on.” She sent a quick text to Joy, asking if she could use her kitchen and cook dinner for a friend.
Of course! Make yourself at home. Your mom and I are at Mahoney’s. Just sat down.
“Even better,” she said, smiling at Dante. “I’ll cook you dinner at Joy’s. She’s my landlady, and she’s out right now, but I know she’d love to meet you. My mom’s staying with her for a little while, so you might meet her, too.”
“The more the better. Older women love me.”
“I bet they do. My mom just kind of appeared here a couple weeks ago. I mean, she knew Joy, but all of a sudden, she’s living with her, and I’m not sure my father’s okay with it. I guess he has projects to work on, but I can’t ever remember them being apart.”
It was like something had been…dislodged, because Lark could not stop talking. She brought him over to Joy’s house and opened the fridge. Steaks (which she’d replace, of course), salad fixings, a nice loaf of French bread in the pantry.
“Will this be okay?” she asked.
“It’s fantastic,” he said. “Let me help. You want me to man the grill or make the salad?”
“Salad, please.”
It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t weird. She didn’t feel like she was betraying Justin, or that Dante shouldn’t be here. It felt…natural. Like she was with a friend. And yes, he was a good-looking guy, and she’d blubbered all over him, and yes, she could admit that she felt a little something for him.
But knowing he’d been with her on the worst day of her life, and he’d been kind, and he’d done his best to help her…well, right now, she almost loved him. The man definitely deserved a steak.
They were washing the dishes when the door opened, and Connery began his crazed song of love. Mom and Joy were laughing as they came in.
“Hello, hello!” Joy called.
“Oh! Your friend is male,” Mom said. “I didn’t expect that. Hi, I’m Ellie Smith, Lark’s mother.” She offered her hand, and Dante took it, and oh, holy heck. She had failed to mention just who Dante was. She should’ve warned them.
“And I’m Joy Deveaux, Lark’s friend and landlady,” Joy said, tilting her head. “You are a beautiful human!”
“Takes one to know one,” he said, taking her hand with a cheeky grin. “Very nice to meet you, ma’am.”
“Don’t you dare call me ma’am. I’m Joy.”
“This is Dante Santini,” Lark said. “Lorenzo’s brother. You know. My boyfriend?”
“Is that right? Lorenzo’s brother. Well, it’s lovely to meet you,” Mom said. She smiled at Lark and winked, and Lark relaxed. “Are you a doctor, too, Dante? I love your name, by the way.”
“I’ll tell my mom,” he said. “And no, I’m not a doctor. I’m one of Boston’s bravest.”
“Bravest what?” asked Joy.
“He’s a firefighter,” Lark said.
“Oh, my heart,” Joy murmured, fluttering her false eyelashes.
“I get that a lot,” he said, grinning. “Makes up for the crap hours and smoke inhalation. But I’m afraid I have to be on my way. Lark, let me know if you need help figuring out your car situation, okay? And thanks for dinner. Joy, thank you for letting us eat here. This is a beautiful house.”
“Oh, please come back anytime,” Joy said. “Really. I mean it. Anytime.”
“Mrs.Smith, great meeting you. I can see why Lark is so pretty.”
“And he’s an excellent flirt, too,” Mom said. “We like you, Dante.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said, flashing another killer smile. “Lark promised I could marry one of her sisters, so we’ll be family soon.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Lark said. “Back in a flash, ladies.”
It was fully dark now, and the fireflies were twinkling over the beach plums. The shell driveway crunched under their feet, and the salty, comforting smell of low tide hung in the air.
“Thank you for the ride, Dante. I…I’m sorry I took up your whole day.”
“Weirdly enough, this has been one of the best days in a long time,” he said. “For me, anyway, if not for you. No apology necessary.”
They looked at each other for a minute, and though she’d talked so much today, there was a lot more she wanted to say. “Thank you, Dante,” she whispered. “For that day, and for this day, too.”
She was the one who kissed him. Without thinking, without knowing she was about to do it, she was suddenly standing on her tiptoes, her hands on his warm, strong shoulders, her lips against his.
A fleeting kiss, almost platonic. Almost. He looked at her a long second, face unreadable, and she remembered that as far as Dante knew, she was his brother’s girlfriend.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I…um…yeah. Sorry.”
He cleared his throat. “No, I…yeah, it’s been an emotional day for you. Don’t worry about it. I…I’ll see you soon, I guess.”
“Yes! I’m sure you…yeah! Drive safely, okay?” Her face was burning, and she was glad for the dark.
“Good night,” he said, and he got into his truck and backed out onto the street. She waved as he drove off, then stood there a second, her head swimming.
She’d kissed him. And though the kiss had lasted less than two seconds, the impression was that it had been…amazing.
Except that she probably had just made him wonder what kind of person she was, kissing her boyfriend’s brother. Not cool, Lark. Not classy.
But it had been amazing just the same. With a sigh, she headed back into Joy’s.
“I love him,” Joy said. “Come on in, your mom and I are too full to go to bed. Ellie, didn’t we love him?”
“We loved him,” Mom confirmed. “Too bad you’re fake dating his brother.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Joy said. “Can you ditch the doctor and just swap in the firefighter?”
“Uh…no, not really,” Lark said.
Connery leaped up, barking, and ran to the door.
“Hello?” came Addie’s voice. “Can I come in? Calm down, doggy.” She appeared in the living room. “I knew you were having a party without me,” she said. “Hi, Mommy. Hi, Joy.” She sat next to Lark. “What’s up with you? You’re flushed.”
“Oh. Um…the heat?”
“I’ll say,” Joy said, and she and Mom sputtered in laughter.
“I’m glad you two are getting along,” Addie said. “And one of these days, you’ll tell us what exactly you’re doing here, Mom, since you and Dad are usually welded together.”
“I’m staying with Joy because your father has some messes to clean up, and I’m tired of watching,” Mom said. “Ask your twin how she spent her day.”
“Tell me, twin.”
“Oh! I, um…well, I went to Sofia’s engagement party last night.” Addie looked confused. “The sister of my fake boyfriend?”
“Right, right.”
“And I stayed at his place afterward.”
Addie gasped. “You did not!”
“In the guest room. He barely speaks to me. Trust me, there’s nothing rom-commy about him. And then my car got towed, and his brother gave me a ride home.”
“And she cooked him dinner here,” Joy said. “The extremely good-looking firefighter brother.”
“And we met him,” Mom added.
“Cool,” Addie said. She looked at Lark. “Oh. Oh! Really?”
“No, no,” Lark said, feeling her cheeks burn again. “He’s just super nice. And we actually met once before, turns out. He was at a fire in Boston way back when, and he…gave me directions.”
“And you like him.” It was not a question. Addie didn’t need to ask questions.
“He’s very nice. Cute. He’s sweet. A good guy.” She clammed up before she sounded more idiotic than she already did.
“Got it,” Addie said, lifting an eyebrow. “Does anyone want to hear about my day, and how cute Imogen was at her little pal’s birthday party?”
“Do we have to?” Joy said at the same time Mom said, “Of course!”
And so Addie gave her a little grace period, and she listened to the tales of her niece sharing pre-chewed bites of carrot with the other three-year-olds.
But while Lark smiled in the right places during Addie’s adorable and disgusting story, Imogen’s antics didn’t blot out the image of Dante looking at her the second before she kissed him.
She had the impression the kiss was not unwelcome.