Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“You are not weak. You’re practical,” Gabby was arguing in the office the next morning.
“I’m hopeless. And too busy. Can you clone yourself? Please?” Honesty tried to smile, but her lips refused to move in an upward direction.
She’d gone back to the hotel room with Dante. And while she’d assured herself that a night of incredible sex wouldn’t lead to him saying those three magical words and changing his plans, that’s what she’d been hoping for.
Had he rolled over, pressed her breasts against his bare chest, and recited a sonnet? Not exactly.
“I’m going to miss this most of all.”
That’s what he’d said. Out of everything they’d shared, he’d miss having sex with her most of all.
She hadn’t told Gabby that part, only expressed that she should be creating distance between herself and Dante before he left. Then she’d tacked on “in case I start developing feelings for him.”
So, she’d told a white lie that she hadn’t fallen for him “yet.” Surely that was a forgivable offense.
She’d managed to pull Chloe aside at the restaurant and had sworn her to secrecy. Chloe had promised not to tell anyone—even Jaylyn—about Honesty’s feelings for Dante. Honesty had then reiterated what she’d said earlier—that he could do whatever he pleased and she’d be okay.
So far, so not-good.
“Who wouldn’t want a few more sexual romps with him before he leaves town?” Gabby stacked the papers in her hands, her eyes going wide. “I mean, not me. Just generally speaking.”
“I know what you meant.” Gabby was a good friend. But if Honesty hoped to survive this sequel she’d nicknamed Dante Leaving, Part Deux, then she needed to focus on work and not her own feeble heart and questionable decision-making skills.
“Live it up, girl. I just don’t want to see you in a situation like the one with Boyd.”
Boyd, her most recent ex-boyfriend, had existed on the fringes of her life for the better part of two years. “I don’t know if it’s fair to call what Boyd and I had a relationship.”
“That’s why I used the term situation.” Gabby dropped her papers and hopped up on the corner of her desk. She patted the empty spot next to her.
Honesty sat facing the glass front door. The sunny day and the city’s ever-present breeze were reminders of the company—the life—she’d built. She took a deep breath and tried to relax, but made a mental note to water the potted plants on the stoop. An entrepreneur’s work was never done.
“I was the one scheduling your dinners around his deadlines,” Gabby said. “And then rescheduling them, remember?”
Oh, Honesty remembered. She and Boyd hadn’t been much more than availability and good intentions.
“He never met your parents. Or Christian.”
“He never wanted to.” Honesty had loved her brother more than anyone on earth. But she’d convinced herself that she was an adult in an adult relationship and didn’t need her big brother’s approval or input. She suspected Christian would not have approved of Boyd.
She sighed. Was she doing that with Dante? Keeping him from the people in her life who might not approve of him?
“Dante makes time for you,” Gabby said as if intuiting her train of thought. “Think about it. He has spent a ton of time with you. And who can blame him? You are one hot momma. Boyd was only interested in himself. A genuine asshole.”
Gabby wasn’t wrong.
“When Christian died, I needed Boyd. But he wasn’t around.” He’d made a million excuses about why he couldn’t see her during those long, hard weeks. She’d gone to the funeral without him. Only then had she understood how little she’d meant to him. “He sent flowers.”
“To the office,” Gabby said flatly. “The card that read thinking of you was in his assistant’s handwriting.”
Honesty cringed. “I can pick ’em, can’t I?”
“Me too, girl. My last boyfriend was in love with his ex. Found that out the hard way.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” That had been a rough patch for both of them. They’d eaten a lot of tacos together during that dark time.
“Not the point,” Gabby said, steering them back onto the topic at hand. “We’re talking about you.”
“It wasn’t that Boyd didn’t care. He did.” Honesty wasn’t defending him, but she wouldn’t lie and say he was a total narcissist. “His way of caring was in that distant, but well-meaning way. Which was the way he cared about everything.”
“Including you.”
“Including me,” she admitted. “He didn’t take the time to be entrenched in anything. I’m not sure he was capable of it.”
And now that she’d said that out loud, she saw the parallels between Boyd’s and Dante’s behavior.
While not as disconnected as Boyd, Dante had his own way of caring about surface-level things when it came to her.
The charity. The magazine. The upcoming launch dinner.
He had kept his distance, not getting too personal, despite the many, many personal moments they’d spent together over these past weeks.
And after seeing him show up for his family and tuck away his personal pride to be there for Reagan and Brody, it was apparent he was capable of caring deeply.
Just not about her.
“I can’t do this again.” Honesty watched a pigeon land and peck at the welcome mat.
“This is not a repeat of the past,” Gabby said. “Dante shows up. Whether or not he leaves again is a separate issue.”
But was it? It was almost worse that Dante showed up—with his plans and timelines and a grant proposal—instead of with a ring or a promise or a glimpse of their shared future.
“I have no right to expect him to flip his world upside down because I’m sleeping with him.”
Gabby was quiet for a beat. “Do you want him to flip his world upside down for you?”
Honesty shook her head but her answer betrayed her. “Yes.”
“Then tell him. Go tell him exactly what you want and what you deserve—beyond a comrade in charity. You are allowed to speak your mind, Honesty. And frankly, you usually do. But with Dante…”
Honesty turned toward her friend. “With Dante… Go on.”
“It’s not my place.”
“Gabby.”
“If we were having wine together, I could, but here at the office—”
“Gabby.”
“Fine! With Dante you’re more cautious than usual. You’re accepting less than you deserve from him, which is like mistreating yourself.” She winced like she regretted saying that, but then said more. “There’s still time to say something before it’s too late.”
“Say what?” She lifted and dropped her arms helplessly, which was most of the problem. She’d never been helpless and she wasn’t going to start now.
“Tell him what you want. Give him an ultimatum if you have to.”
“Like the one he gave me eight years ago?”
“Well. Why not?”
“You’re right.”
Gabby had laid out the exact problem. Honesty should have said what she was thinking on Brody and Reagan’s wedding night. But then she’d gone to Dante’s penthouse and they’d started kissing. Once they were in the shower, well…it was hard to think straight when his tongue was between her legs.
But that was over now. Or it would be soon enough. Everything between them—the charity, the sex—would wrap up soon.
“I can handle anything you need regarding Long Live Food.” Gabby was nodding. “And I can handle communications with him if you want to cut him off.”
“No. I won’t do that.” Honesty wasn’t afraid to face him. It was more that she’d been afraid to face herself and her own mixed feelings about him. “I’ll meet with him this evening. Over drinks. Somewhere neutral.”
“I’ll set it up. Seven o’clock? Do you have a preferred location?”
“Anywhere except the Crane Hotel bar.” She wasn’t going to step foot in that place tonight.
Maybe never again.
Dante’s feet pounded the pavement, his mind on whether or not today would be the day he died from overexertion. The sun was high in the sky, the lake was sparkling, and the faint but present breeze wasn’t enough to cool the sweat beading on his brow.
“You’re quiet.” Zander, who kept pace next to him, wasn’t even breathing hard.
“I’m trying not to die,” Dante panted. Brody had warned him that Zander was a running nut, and not to exercise with him. But Dante was only in town another week and right now was the most open window for both their schedules.
Zander slowed his pace, allowing Dante’s flagging steps to regain a more natural and steady rhythm. “You’re out of shape.”
“Am not. I lift weights all the time.” Dante glanced down at his arms—muscular, fit.
His lungs were apparently another story.
It’d been at least six months since he’d run, and that had been at the airport, sprinting for his life to catch a first class flight to Dallas.
Now, fifteen minutes on this lakefront path was about to drop him to his ass.
“It’s the Chicago air. It’s, you know, thicker. ”
Zander tilted his head. “Thicker than LA smog? I highly doubt that. Everything good? Since the wedding?”
“Fine.” His brother was fishing, but Dante didn’t want to talk about their dad.
“How’s the charity dinner shaping up? Honesty doing okay with everything?”
Dante narrowed his eyes. It was out of character for his pragmatic brother to prod him for answers. “What are you getting at?”
Zander looked pained when he admitted, “Chloe told me to ask about Honesty. She refused to give me context. I’m doing my best.”
This morning with Honesty at his penthouse, he’d felt a niggling of…
something. She hadn’t seemed upset, smiling easily over coffee while chatting about what the week would bring.
The night before had been a blur of soapy shower orgasms. While he’d washed her hair in the shower, she’d shared how happy she was for Reagan and Brody.
When they’d dried off and crawled into bed, her final sleepy words were, “You and your dad are going to be okay. Give it time. At least he’s still here. ”
Unlike Christian, she had implied. He’d fallen asleep feeling like his chest had caved in. He wished he could have been there to comfort her when her brother had died. Or at least attended the funeral.
“I’m fine. Honesty is fine,” Dante told his brother.
“You sure about that?”
“No,” he grumbled. “Everything seems fine, but I’m not sure it is.”
“Ah.” Zander picked up the pace again.
When Dante caught up, he managed around labored breaths, “What do you mean ‘Ah’?”
“Nothing.”
“Something.”
“What did you say to her that is making you worried things might not be fine?”
“I’m not worried… I…” Dante paused to suck in a much-needed breath. “It’s irritating that you can talk…” Breathe. “While running.”
“Fine, grandpa. We’ll walk and talk.” Zander slowed to a stroll.
Insult or not, Dante didn’t argue as he matched his brother’s pace.
“Do you remember what I was like after Emily died?”
“I remember you nearly lost your business.” Zander was an art curator and Emily had been a painter. After she’d passed, he hadn’t shown much interest in the art world—much interest in anything.
“Dad didn’t let that happen. Neither did you. You flew out there determined to help with whatever I needed.”
He’d forgotten about that—or maybe he’d filed it away so he didn’t have to revisit that painful time. Emily had been a bright, colorful addition to their family—her personality as vibrant as her paintings. Emily and Zander together? Forget it. Their marriage could have been fodder for fairy tales.
Dante had been, what, twenty-six at the time?
He’d been firmly established with the foundation by then.
Back when problem-solving had been a way of life for him.
In the face of his brother’s unfathomable grief, Dante had done the only thing he’d known to do.
He’d stepped in and helped with Zander’s flagging business.
“I owe you for that,” Zander said now. “I’m not sure I ever properly thanked you. I’m the big brother. And my younger siblings were forced to rally around me while I—” He shook his head and didn’t say more.
“You didn’t force us, Zan. We’re family. We’re Cranes. That’s what we do.”
Zander stopped walking and met eyes with him. “Is that what you’re doing with Honesty? Rallying. Fixing things, when she’d rather have you around in another capacity?”
That question threw him. Dante shook his head. “I’m finishing what I started. Rather than leave her to do it alone. My team is in contact with her assistant Gabby. Eli and Isa are on board with the launch—”
“And what about after the launch. After you go back to California?” Zander started walking and talking again, forcing Dante to keep up to hear the rest of it.
“You don’t owe me an answer, brother. But you owe yourself one.
Are you sure the old version of you will be there to go home to?
The women in our lives change us, and sometimes there’s no going back.
The version of me before I fell in love with Chloe”—his eyes on the lake, Zander shook his head—“nowhere to be seen.”
“You and Chloe are good together,” Dante said rather than unpack what his brother was implying. Zander didn’t know Honesty. Hell, he wasn’t sure Zander knew Dante all that well. “As big of a love as you and Emily had, I have to say, you and Chloe are fated.”
Zander wore a small smile that revealed nothing. He likely had more to say, but he didn’t. Instead, he picked up the pace again. “One more mile and I’ll treat you to ice cream.”
“Pass!” Dante called out. But as he watched Zander running with perfect form, he felt the pinch of challenge. Tragedy would be letting his older brother outperform him. “Fuck.”
He had to double-time his steps to catch up. Once there, he met Zander’s pace while ignoring one mother of a side stitch. Afterwards, they opted for smoothies instead of ice cream.
As Dante drank his protein-packed chocolate-cherry concoction, he received a text from Jennifer. Honesty wanted to meet for drinks tonight. Apparently she’d arranged the date through their assistants instead of asking Dante directly. What the fuck was that about?
“Something wrong?” Zander asked.
Yes.
“No. Just scheduling drinks with Honesty.” He texted his assistant that he’d be there.
Zander’s eyes snapped to Dante’s phone and then back to his face. “If you need me to rally around you at any point, let me know.”
“Not necessary, but thanks.” Dante tried to sound aloof, but his throat caught when Zander put his hand on Dante’s shoulder.
“We’re Cranes,” his brother said. “It’s what we do.”