Page 3 of Promise Maker

I don’t even know the guy, and hearing that makesmy soul ache.

“It was great seeing you again, Mr. Brigham.” Heshakes my dad’s hand. “You too, Solari.” A hot stream slithers down my spinewhen I slip my hand into his warm palm. He gives my fingers a tight squeeze,eyes sincere as he says, “I hope you’ll love Sicily when you get there.”Beneath his words, I hear the reminder of his promise, and I feel a great senseof loss when he lets me go.

Undoubtedly, I must be out of my mind.

That would explain why, as Domenico walks away andDad and I leave the luncheon, I vow to wait for him.

Six years isn’t so bad.

I can do it.

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Eight years later

The fucker never came back.

I still pine for him like a damn fool, even thoughhe lied to me.

I never dated anyone, not in high school norcollege. Instead, I focused on my studies and waited for the guy like an idiot.

Domenico Martelli never returned after six years.

He didn’t keep his promise.

Meanwhile, I kept mine.

It’s been eight years now, and I still wonder why.

Good thing I never told anyone and avoidedembarrassment. I haven’t even told my best friend. It’s as if I wanted to holdDomenico in my soul and not share our promise with anyone.

Ugh.

This summer, I swear I’ll forget the Italian liaronce and for all and find myself a sweet nerd like I initially planned.

Jazmine finished grad school and is celebratinglater. So maybe luck will be on my side, and I’ll meet a nice guy.

“Dad?” I peer into the office and flash him mycutest expression. “About that dinner tonight….”

He pinches his thick brows. “No, Solari. You’renot backing out. You need to learn how to move in this business.”

I expel a prolonged sigh and plop down in thechair. “I thought you didn’t want me in that world. You said it could bedangerous.”

“I’ve long left the dangerous side, way before youwere born.”

Hearing the mention of my birth no longer propelsme to that guilty headspace over my mom’s death.

After the garden, I gave up cigarettes anddiscovered my love for photography, which became a healthier form of escape.

At least one good thing happened following myencounter with that liar.

“I want you to take over the business when Iretire,” Dad adds. “To avoid disasters, you need to know how to read people.That’s all I’ve tried to teach you.”

“I understand, but….” I pout innocently. “Dad, Itold Jazmine I’d celebrate her completing grad school. She’s my best friend. Iwant to have fun.”

“There’ll be other times,” he says, refocusing onthe papers on his desk.

I huff. “Dad, I’m twenty-four. I don’t need yourpermission. I could just go.”

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