Emelia poured the sauce over the rich Italian dish, and inhaled the delicious fragrance that wafted under her nose. It was one of her favorite meals. It was one that she could make in her sleep, which was why she’d chosen that very one to make while she was so distracted.
Dante hadn’t called in the three days that she’d been home, and her attempts to contact him had gone unanswered. His silence made her worry and caused a nervous kind of pain in her stomach. Her mind was playing tricks on her, and kept making her think that he’d had second thoughts and that their time together really hadn’t meant anything to him.
All she needed was one word from him to acknowledge that he still felt the same as her.
That she hadn’t to give up on him because he hadn’t her.
But why hadn’t he called?
Why wouldn’t he answer her calls?
“You look like you’re going to be sick,” her mother commented, and placed a hand to Emelia’s forehead. “You don’t feel hot.”
“I’m fine.”
“If you’re fine, why is your hand clenched tight against your stomach?” Her mom caressed her face with a worried look in her eyes.
“I hadn’t realized that it was.” She looked down and forced her hand down. “I’m fine.” She turned away. “Let me put the lasagna in the oven.”
Emelia busied herself with the lasagna before she cleaned the dishes she’d used. She’d just finished putting them away into the cupboard when she heard the front door open.
“They’re back early,” her mom commented, frowning.
“I’ll go see.” She wasn’t really interested in more conversation with her family, but she knew her mom was minutes away from confronting her…and, she knew, that she’d blurt all her heartache out to the one person she should have talked to in the beginning.
Drying her hands on a towel, she moved toward the front door and, when she saw who stood in the entrance, her heart stopped.
Dante looked…haggard. His face was drawn as though he’d suffered a huge loss but, as his eyes met hers, she felt her heart start to beat again. His joy at seeing her lit his eyes, and that was all she needed to move toward him.
Within seconds, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him tight against her. She needn’t have worried because Dante held her just as tightly around the waist. He buried his face in the curve of her neck and inhaled, like she did with him. He smelled of her man, the love of her life…and, home. He was hers and she would never let him go.
“I’ve been so worried about you,” Emelia whispered into his ear and felt him shudder against her.
“I’m here now…I love you, and I’ve missed you so much,” he countered.
Emelia felt close to tears that she had to blink hard so they wouldn’t fall. She stepped back slightly, her hands caressed Dante’s face before she reached up and whispered, “I love you,” and placed a tender kiss to his lips.
The gasp behind them caused Emelia to still, and Dante raised his head to look behind her. She knew it was her mom, but, at least, it wasn’t the whole family.
She slowly turned and was relieved when Dante kept a hand on her hip, but the look on her mom’s face wasn’t one of happiness.
“What is going on, Emelia?” she asked, her voice full of anger.
At nearly thirty, she still felt the same as she did at ten when faced with her mom’s anger—scared.
“Can we go into the kitchen and I’ll explain,” Dante offered while Emelia held her breath.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” her mom hissed.
Emelia felt Dante flinch at her mother’s words, and that gave her the strength that she knew she’d need for this discussion. He needed her to be on his side, and not to give in because of her mother’s anger.
“Please, Mom. We do need to talk, and it would be better if we weren’t standing in the doorway.”
Her mom hesitated and then turned her back on them while she headed for the kitchen.
“This isn’t going too well,” Dante commented. “Just remember, no matter what is said, that I love you, Emelia. Can you do that?”
She turned and quickly kissed him on the lips. “As long as you remember how much I love you, then I can do that.”