All In (Firsts and Forever 2)

I smiled at that. Dante Dombruso seemed like the kind of man that did everything intentionally. And this seemed like a way of asserting a little of his Italian-American self into my home. I really didn’t mind that. On the contrary, I liked having a bit of Dante around.

When I was again alone in the kitchen, I went and sat at the little table and ran a fingertip over the cool glass surface, tracing the tidy, regular pattern of small brown and gold and sand-colored pebbles beneath the glass.

A few minutes later, Delivery Guy Number One stuck his head into the kitchen. “We’re all done here. We’ll be back later in the week, just as soon as your living room furniture arrives in the warehouse.”

“Thank you,” I said and followed him to the front door, closing and locking it behind him. And then I went and took a look at the bedroom.

The bed was absolutely enormous. It took up most of the room, and was made up with new sheets and blankets and several pillows, all in tranquil shades of green and blue. And it all nestled in a big black wrought iron bed frame that looked expensive and elegant and really, really heavy. I wondered what I’d possibly do with that when Jamie’s lease was up in a few months and I had to move into a cheaper apartment.

I wondered what I was going to do with any of it when I had to move. In addition to the massive bed, the room now also contained a dark wood dresser and a matching set of night stands, topped with attractive lamps. Missing from the room was the flat air mattress.

I went and checked the closet. My thin blanket was folded up on the shelf, the flat pillow on top of it. The gym bag was in there on the floor, and a nice new set of wooden clothes hangers lined the dowel. Ok, now that was attention to detail.

The workers had stopped short of hanging my things up, thank goodness. I pulled my clothes out of the bag and put them on hangers, and stuck my socks and underwear in the top drawer of the dresser. I’d tackle the garbage bags with the rest of my clothes later. For now I climbed up on the bed and stretched out on top of the thick comforter and stared at the ceiling.

Talk about mixed emotions. On one hand, I was incredibly grateful to Dante, and so happy to have a comfortable bed. But on the other hand, I felt really guilty about accepting this stuff. It was just too much. It didn’t feel right, him spending this kind of money on me.

Never mind the fact that he just met me. Obviously I’d made quite an impression on him on our first date. And apparently, the impression was that I was a pathetic kid that needed lots and lots of care.

I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and drummed my fingers on the plastic case for a moment, then typed: Thank you again, Dante. The deliverymen just left. Everything is incredibly beautiful. It reminds me of you.

He soon replied: I’m so glad you like it. And thank you for the compliment.

Maybe I should have just been gracious and left it at that. But instead I wrote: Am struggling a bit to come to grips with all of this. Wish you were here with me. Would feel better if we could talk about it.

The phone rang in my hand, and I answered it with a soft, “Hi.”

“Hi angel.” Dante had a rich, deep voice that I found incredibly soothing. I closed my eyes and let the sound of it wash over me. “You doing ok?”

“I’m overwhelmed,” I told him honestly. “It’s just so much, Dante. No one’s ever done anything like this for me.”

“I know it must seem really over the top. But please just enjoy it, Charlie. Like I said, I own a furniture store, so it was really easy to do this for you. And it gave me so much pleasure.”

“That part I really like,” I said softly. “Giving you pleasure, I mean.”

“Same here, angel. I wanted to do this for you to make you feel good. I want you to be happy.”

“Thank you, Dante. I appreciate it so much. I do. But it also…it also makes me feel really guilty,” I admitted, and curled up on my side.

“Why would it make you feel guilty?”

Someone knocked on the door then, and I sighed and ignored it. “I don’t know. I just do. I feel like…I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“Aren’t you going to get the door?” Dante asked.

“No. It’s probably just someone selling something.”

“Get the door, Charlie,” he said gently.

I sighed and did as I was told, bringing the cell phone with me as I left the bedroom and said, “Ok. Hang on. Please? I’ll only be a minute.”