Page 73 of That's Amore

“Go on,” I encouraged.

“I’ve spent so much time thinking about what went wrong, and I realized... it was me. It was always me. I was afraid, Elysa. Afraid of caring about you. Afraid of getting too close. Every time I felt like we were moving closer, I’d push you away because I didn’t know how to handle it. You made me feel helpless.”

I swallowed hard, his words hitting me in places Ihadn’t even realized were still tender. “And you didn’t find this out while we were married?”

“No.” He gave me a sad smile. “I…Nonno was my everything. Parent. Best friend. Companion. Playmate. I’d do anything for him.”

“Even marry me?”

“Yes. And that’s what I thought you were. A duty to make Nonno happy. But once Nonno was gone and I wasfree,so to speak, I didn’t want to let you go, and that’s when I started to understand myself better. I’m sorry that it took so long.”

We fell silent and ate quietly. That was a lot of information for me to digest. Unlike Dante, I didn’t understand myself very well. I knew I loved him—but I didn’t know how to ask for what I needed from him because I didn’t know myself.

“I thought our life was good,” I said after Sofia cleared out our plates and told us she’d be back with dessert.

“Yes, it was, and it can continue to be.”

“But, Dante, even though we spent time together and went for walks, I still always felt like a burden.” I picked up my courage to share the thing that tormented me the most. “You never took me out on a date. It was always society things where I felt you were worried I’d embarrass you. I always felt like you were ashamed of me. You told Lucia how I was just a server at my friend’s bistro. You…didn’t respect me, Dante.”

Remembering all of it, opening the wounds, mademe wonder if I was fooling myself. I couldn’t go back to Dante, not with all this hurt inside of me, which was still painful, still raw.

“I did do that,” he admitted. He took my hand in his. “It was disrespectful, as you said. I am sorry. I can’t go back and change how I behaved, but I can assure you it will never happen again.”

“Why?” I challenged him. “Is it because you found out I’m not just a server? Does that make me worthy of your attention and respect?”

The horrified look he gave me told me better than words that was not where he was at.

“Fuck no! How can you even think that? Yes, I’ve been an asshole. I get it. But…damn it, Elysa, I respected how you wanted to work and didn’t just want to spend our money. Every woman who’d wanted to be my wife knew that meant she’d live a life of luxury. Instead, you come along, and you want to fucking work. I didn’t know what to make of it. You didn’t want to spend my money—you worried about buying truffles. You had access to one of the biggest fortunes in Italy, and you were worried you spent three hundred euros on fucking mushrooms.”

People were now looking at us because his volume had gone up as he spoke.

“I respected you, and I do so now. How I behaved was…well, it was because I had my head up my ass, and I wanted to be a jerk.”

I let out a small laugh, borne out of embarrassment but also joy at his words.

“I can’t lose you, Elysa. You’re the only thing in my life that feels real.”

I let out a shaky breath, my emotions swirling in ways I wasn’t prepared for. “Are you sure you don’t feel this way because I walked away?”

“I do feel this way because you walked away,” he informed me. “If you’d stayed, I wouldn’t feel like I lost you because I wouldn’t have.”

I sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“No,” he said emphatically. “You think that I only want you because you want to leave. I’ve been wanting you throughout our marriage. You really think that I liked spending Friday nights at home watching shit television with you?”

“But you always had your laptop with you,” I accused.

“On the couch, sitting next to you,” he pointed out. “Because I wanted to be with you, but there was no way I could watch the crap you do.”

“You know it would help you to pretend you like the things I do.” The nerve of the man.

“But that would be lying to you, and I don’t do that.”

The way he said that so easily and confidently, I knew he meant it, really, really mean it.

“Look.” He refilled my wine glass. “I know I’vefailed you. I thought being distant would protect me, but all it did was hurt you.”

I grabbed his hand when he put the bottle of wine down. “You didn’t just hurt me, Dante. You broke me. You made me feel invisible. You made me feel like I wasn’t enough. I wanted to be your partner, your equal, but I felt like a friend when it was convenient to you and like an albatross around your neck when it wasn’t.”

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