The Playboy of Rome

Dante shrugged. “I thought it’d make things easier for you.”

“I don’t need you to make things easier for me.” His father’s tone was resilient. “I take it you came to your senses and turned down the offer.”

Dante considered telling him that they wanted the family recipes as part of the deal but that he just couldn’t go through with it. No amount of money could compensate for giving away those family secrets. Some things weren’t meant to be shared. But that wasn’t the real reason he’d ended up turning down the offer.

Dante nodded his head. “I almost went through with it. But in the end, I couldn’t do it.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Lizzie.” Her name slipped quietly over his lips as the pain of loss overwhelmed him.

“You were planning to run the place with her by your side? Like your grandparents had done?”

Dante didn’t trust his voice at that moment. He merely nodded.

“Then why are you here alone? Why did you let her get away?”

His father always thought he failed at things. Well, this time his father was wrong. “I didn’t let her get away. I pushed her away.”

“What? But why would you do that?” His father put out his cigar in a nearby ashtray before approaching Dante. “Let’s walk.”

Dante really didn’t want a lecture from his father, but what did it matter? He couldn’t be more miserable. His father led him off toward the vines. When people wanted to be alone, the vines always offered solace.

“Son, I know you never had a chance to know your mother, but she was an amazing woman. You remind me a lot of her. I know if she were here she’d insist that I give you some advice—”

“Papa, I don’t need advice. I know what I’m doing. I won’t end up like you.” He realized too late that he’d said too much.

“You sent Lizzie away so you wouldn’t end up miserable and alone like your old man, is that it?”

Dante couldn’t deny it, so he didn’t say anything. He kept his head low and concentrated on the path between the vines, which was barely wide enough for them to walk side by side.

“I’ll admit it,” his father said. “I didn’t handle your mother’s death well. I never expected to be alone with two young boys to raise. I...I was scared. And...I took my anger and frustration out on you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it. Not at all.”

What did Dante say to that? You’re right didn’t seem appropriate. No big deal wouldn’t work either because it was a big deal—a huge deal.

“If you had to do it over again—falling in love with Mama—would you?”

“Even knowing how things would end, I’d still have pursued your mother. She was amazing. When she smiled the whole world glowed. Loving your mother was one of the best parts of my life.”

“But you...you always look so sad when anyone mentions her.”

“And that’s where I messed up. I closed myself off from life. I dwelled so much on my loss—my pain—that I couldn’t see clearly. I missed seeing what I was doing to my family.”

“Is that why you never married again?”

Papa nodded. “I was too consumed with what I’d lost to see anything in front of me.” He ran a hand over his face. “I can’t go back and change any of it. My only hope is that you boys don’t make the same mistakes. Love is like life—it’s a gift not to be squandered.”

Dante studied his father’s face, trying to decide if his father was being on the level with him. “Are you serious? You’d be willing to give love another try?”

“If the right woman came along. What about you? Do you love Lizzie?”

Dante’s heart pounded out the answer before he could find the words. He nodded. “But how do I live knowing that something might happen to her? That someday I might be alone?”

His father gripped his shoulder. “You don’t. You just have to cherish the time you have together. No one knows the future. But by running from love, you’re going to end up old and alone anyway.”

Dante hadn’t thought of it that way. In fact, if it weren’t for Lizzie, he wouldn’t be having this conversation with his father. Somehow Lizzie had worked her magic and reconnected him with his family.

His father cleared his throat. “Here’s something else for you to consider. You’ve always known you’re different from me and your brother. It’s your mother’s genes coming out in you. I know sometimes that drove a wedge between us. But that doesn’t mean that I love you any less. Sometimes being different is a good thing.”