Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
The ballroom looked the way it had the first night she’d spotted Dante at the back of the room. The tables were neatly set with candles and flowers in the center. Programs and place cards rested on top of clean white plates.
Except tonight there was no Dante at the back of the room. She hovered at the edge of the stage, trying not to search for him but doing it anyway. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t hope he’d come, but here she was: hoping.
She was beginning to resent hope.
But she wasn’t here for Dante. She was here for Christian.
Thanks to Dante, Long Live Food had made the trek from her head into the world.
Her mother had reminded her of that when Honesty had called to ask if she and Dad would be in attendance tonight.
With everything happening around her, Honesty had flat out forgotten to tell them about it.
But her mother and father were already on the road for vacation—a spur-of-the-moment trip. Honesty was sad that they wouldn’t be here, but she couldn’t blame them. They had been tirelessly supportive—her mother had offered to turn around and come back. Honesty forbade her and promised to be fine.
She would be. But that hadn’t changed how badly she’d wanted to see their smiling faces in the front row.
“Just you and me, bro,” she whispered to Christian. He was here somewhere. She could feel him. That would have to be enough to get her through the speech.
Michael Tillsbury had called her back this morning, apologizing for not calling sooner. He’d told her that he wanted to be a part of the program and was ready to start. He also agreed to be more communicative in the future.
She’d invited him tonight and was surprised when he’d said yes. He was here now, his remaining hand wrapped around a water glass. He dipped his chin when she waved. It was working out.
When he’d taken a step in her direction, she’d mirrored him. And that had been all that was required.
The notecards in her hands shook. Not because she was nervous about speaking. She loved speaking. But after very little sleep and a tiresome morning, she didn’t trust herself to remember the words she needed to say. She had also woken up still in love with Dante. Which was a bummer.
She still loved him. And his sister and his sister-in-law, and given enough time, probably his whole damn family. She wondered how long it took to heal from a heartbreak this consuming, or if she ever would.
She was introduced by the emcee, a veteran named Rick with PTSD and a prosthetic foot.
He told his story and shared how Refurbs for Vets helped him feel more like himself—a better version of himself than before.
Then he said some very nice words about Honesty, and about Long Live Food, and how valuable it was going to be to their community.
Honesty stepped onto the stage, the applause buoying her heart, and the hug from Rick strengthening her resolve. She packed away the fatigue and the doubt and her own heartbreak and then began to speak.
She spoke about Christian, and how much she loved him. How she wished he was there tonight. The irony was not lost on her that if he had been, this charity wouldn’t exist. She rested her hands on the podium and squeezed it with her palms. She allowed her gaze to sweep the room while she spoke.
“After Christian came home, I wanted to protect him. My older brother didn’t want to be protected.
He was the protector. But he did let me cook for him.
And teach him a few easy kitchen tricks that would help him in his recovery.
We bonded over those simple meals and we ate them together at his kitchen table. ”
She swallowed thickly, the memory in stark contrast with the dinners she had eaten without him. Now that Dante had left, she’d once again set a table for one.
She skimmed her notecards but the words she wanted to say weren’t on them. So she set them aside on the podium and spoke from the heart.
“We always talk about losing loved ones. Experiencing a loss in our lives when they pass away. But what we fail to acknowledge is that they are here in spirit. We are all energy. Nothing is created nor destroyed. Christian is here with us tonight, just beyond our five senses.
“And then there are people in our lives who are not geographically here, but very much alive. Like my parents, who have loved and supported Christian and me every moment of our lives. Instead of grieving that they aren’t here tonight”—she smiled at the table in front of her—“I am grateful for you lovely people sitting in those seats. Loving people means letting go of our own expectations for them and letting them be who they are truly meant to be.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she said those words. She thought of Dante and how she’d let him go. A hard pill to swallow knowing he was here, but not here here.
“Christian taught me that healing is a journey. One without a final destination. Even now, he lives on. Right here. In this room. If we’re lucky, we will cherish the journey we are on and spend less time looking for the end of it.
We must enjoy the people whose paths we cross.
And if they step onto a path we can’t follow, we can carry them with us in our hearts instead. ”
She sniffled but held her smile. She hadn’t followed Dante the first time he’d gone to California because she hadn’t been able to follow him. This time she’d been able, but unwilling. She had to walk her own path.
“Tonight, I am dedicating the launch of my nonprofit Long Live Food to my brother, Christian. Not because he’s no longer here, but because he was here.
And he walked the path with me as long as he could.
I was lucky to walk side by side with him for a while.
Now that the path has forked, he’s where he is and we are here.
And we are going to make a difference in as many lives as we possibly can until those paths inevitably fork as well. Thank you.”
The applause was exuberant and overwhelming. Many guests stood from their seats. She waved as she stepped from the stage, taking the hand that appeared to help her down the stairs. Careful not to become tangled in the long skirt of her dress, she navigated the steps.
“Thank you so much, I—” She choked on the rest of that sentiment when she met eyes with Dante Crane. He was here, her hand in his, his dark eyes tired but intense.
“You— You’re in California.”
“I was. I came back.”
She blinked out of her stupor when the rational part of her brain reminded her of the reason he was here. This was his grant money in action. There were photographers. This was business, plain and simple.
She gave him a measured smile. “I appreciate you showing up. Your support means a lot to Long Live Food.”
“No.” His eyebrows met over his nose. “I came back for you. I came back…for us.”
She shook her head, unwilling to believe that he would show up for her. He had left without saying goodbye, and he hadn’t given her any clue that he would ever come back.
“Um, excuse me for a moment.” She turned toward the exit where lots and lots of cameras and smiling people were watching her. She froze in place, unsure where to go next.
“The magazine cover and article have been the talk of the town,” Dante said from behind her. “They expect a statement.”
“Because you’re here,” she turned her head to whisper. Dante’s presence had a way of tilting the world on its axis. “I don’t want to give a statement.”
“You don’t have to. Come on. This way.” He took her hand again and steered them toward the same balcony where they’d stood that first night they reunited.
She dropped his hand and inhaled the chilly night air. As goosebumps rose on her skin, she blew out that breath. She hadn’t had a drop to drink tonight, but Dante made her feel like everything was spinning.
“I was wrong,” he said.
“On that we agree.” She elevated her chin.
“I was wrong to offer you less than what you deserve.” He took a step closer but didn’t touch her. “You didn’t need me to do any of this—the charity launch, the magazine. You would have found your way. I’m not here to rescue you. I’m here to be chosen by you. If you’ll have me.”
His face was etched with pain, his lips pressed tightly together. He’d pushed his hands deep into his pockets, making his shoulders pull forward. He looked different. He looked…like he had when she’d met him. A little lost. But very determined.
“I offered to stay and see the launch through because I couldn’t believe something this good could happen to me twice.
That you would love me again. That we could last. I know I blew the second chance, and probably don’t deserve a third, but…
” He licked his lips. “I guess I’m hoping you’ll be…
well, you. And that you’ll forgive me for being a selfish prick who offered logic instead of love. ”
She couldn’t move. She was Han Solo encased in carbonite. A still life.
“I love you,” he said, proving that she wasn’t dreaming.
“I want to be with you. Not because I want to help or because of the grant. I mean, I do want to help, but that’s not the reason I came back.
I was afraid that walking away from the life I built in Los Angeles would be giving up.
Running out on the people who needed me.
“Then when I went home, and it was like stepping into a stranger’s life. I didn’t want to be there for one simple reason: you weren’t there. Eight years ago, you changed me. It took me a while to realize it.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
He lifted his hands to touch her but then dropped them at his sides. “You know me. Better than I know me. I won’t waste another eight years lying to myself.”
“About?” she couldn’t help asking.
“I resigned from the Moretti Foundation. My place is here, in Chicago. You’re at the top of that list, but I need you to know one thing.” He took one step closer to her, forcing her gaze upward to meet his eyes. In them, she saw love. So much of it, her knees weakened.
“I want a life with you,” he continued. “I love you. And I know that loving you means holding you up when you need me and stepping aside when you don’t. I am putting down my shield. There are no dragons to fight. I made them up in my head out of some sort of misplaced need to be needed.”
“That’s more than one thing,” she whispered.
“I know.” He finally touched her, his palms warming her cool arms. “What matters most is you. Us. Our future. I will work hardest on that because no one matters more than the woman I love.”
It was everything she’d wanted two nights ago when she showed up at the bar with her heart on her sleeve.
“So? That’s my pitch.”
A smile pulled her lips as fresh tears flooded her eyes. “That’s it, huh?”
“That’s the whole thing.” He lost his smile. His throat bobbed as he swallowed before he said, “I love you, Honesty. I never stopped. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“I love you too,” she said through a laugh.
The relief on his face was priceless. He looked to the heavens, blinked a few times, and then scooped her against him. He buried his lips in her neck and breathed with her. When he emerged, he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her until her toes curled in her shoes.
There was no wall around him. No rules or boundaries or caveats. There were only the two of them, kissing as it started to rain. First one drop, then several, until they were forced to run inside and out of the downpour.
Once there, hand in hand, they were greeted by what felt like a million pairs of eyes. Then came the cameras and shutter clicks. And the questions.
So many questions.
“How long have you been in love with him, Honesty?”
“Dante, is it true you’ll be moving to Chicago?”
They looked at each other in the midst of the melee, silently agreeing on their escape. He guided her around the photographers, veterans, and a pleased-looking Isa and Eli Crane.
When they reached the exit, someone shouted, “Where are you taking your Cinderella, Mr. Crane?”
“That’s up to her.” He smiled down at Honesty and asked, “My place or yours?”