Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
We didn’t name what we were doing. We didn’t need to.
He stayed. I didn’t ask him to leave. That felt like enough of a truce for two people who had spent most of their lives bracing for impact.
On Monday morning, I logged into work from my dining table, hair pulled back, blazer over a soft T-shirt like I could fool the world into thinking everything was exactly the same. I told my supervisor I would be remote for the week, family situation, complicated but contained.
It wasn’t a lie.
Dante existed in the periphery of my days at first. Coffee already made when I emerged half-awake. Quiet presence behind me while I took calls. The steady weight of his hand on my lower back when he passed, grounding without demanding.
By the next Wednesday, he was woven in. We fell into an easy rhythm that surprised me. Mornings slow. Afternoons separate but connected. Nights were deliberate. Sometimes heated, sometimes just quiet conversation stretched thin by exhaustion and comfort. He didn’t push.
That was the thing that kept undoing me. This was a man who could bend rooms to his will by simply standing in them, and yet with me, he waited. Watched. Adjusted.
I never had that before. I took a call from Char on Thursday while Dante was out grabbing groceries. Her name lit up my phone, and for half a second, I considered letting it go to voicemail. Secrets had a way of rotting from the inside. I needed to tell her. I just wasn’t sure what the words were to explain.
I answered.
“Hey,” I greeted.
“You sound different,” she replied immediately.
I smiled. “Hello to you too.”
“No,” she pressed. “Different like, relaxed. Where are you?”
“Home,” I replied. Then, because I wasn’t going to do this sideways, I added, “Dante’s here.”
Silence. It stretched on for a beat. “Dante as in, Dante Verdone?”
“Yes.”
Another beat. “Like staying-with-you here?”
“Yes.”
She exhaled slowly. “Well. That’s not what I expected to hear today.”
“I didn’t want there to be secrets,” I shared. “Especially not with you.”
“I appreciate that,” she replied honestly. “I just, wow. I’m not sure what to say. I know you have always held him in a high regard of sorts. I assumed it was because he saved my life or it was his connection to Lamonte. But Nita, it’s been years. Why would he visit you now?”
“I know.”
She laughed softly. “Does he know you’re terrible at relaxing or slowing down?”
“He’s learning,” I stated, smiling again despite myself.
There was a pause, then her voice shifted, lighter, but with purpose. “Eli and I were actually talking about dinner this weekend. You should come. Both of you.”
I hesitated. “Char—”
“Nita,” she interrupted gently. “I want to see this with my own eyes.”
Dante came back just as I agreed, grocery bags in hand, eyebrow lifting as I mouthed dinner Saturday. He nodded once. No questions. He was simply in.
Saturday came too quickly. Char and Eli’s place was warm in the way homes became when people chose each other deliberately. Soft lighting. A lived-in couch. The smell of garlic and something roasting that made my stomach growl the second we stepped inside.
Eli opened the door. He took one look at Dante and didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward and held out his hand. Eli was the opposite of Dante. Short, but mighty in stature. Softer features compared to the sharp lines of Dante’s face. Eli had this ease about him where Dante carried himself in an unspoken way of posing a threat without even meaning to.
Dante blinked, then took it. “Thank you,” Eli began, voice steady. “For protecting her all those years ago. My life is better because she’s in it and that wouldn’t be without you.”
Dante swallowed, grip tightening just slightly. “I didn’t do anything special.”
Eli shook his head. “You did enough.”
I felt something tighten in my chest. Char came in behind him, eyes bright. She hugged me first, long and tight, then turned to Dante. She studied him for a moment, really looked, then smiled before wrapping her arms around his waist pulling him in close for a hug while he raised his arms up in surprise before finally settling in and patting my sister gently.
The mutual respect of two people who cared once for each other, but knew they weren’t ever meant to be more.
Dinner was easy in a way I hadn’t anticipated. Stories flowed. Laughter came quickly. Dante stayed mostly quiet, but when he spoke, everyone listened. Eli asked thoughtful questions. Char watched us like she was seeing a picture come into focus.
At one point, she set her fork down and looked directly at me.
“Nita,” she leaned over and whispered gently. “You relax when he’s around.”
I opened my mouth to deflect. She turned to Dante instead. “You’re a good man. Too much man for me.” She smiled softly. “I wasn’t, and I’m not a strong enough woman for a man who lives under the kind of code you do. I knew it then, I know it even more now.”