Like a little pup with its tail tucked between its legs, he half bows and retreats into the shadows.
“Is this chicken?” Elizabeth asks Donatella.
“Branzino roasted with fresh herbs, served with a side of saffron risotto,” she replies in stilted English.
Using her phone, Elizabeth types something in. “Il cibo…era delizioso. Complimenti allo chef.”
Donatella eagerly nods. “Sì,grazie.”
Elizabeth waits a beat after she leaves before saying, “I hope I didn’t massacre that too badly. I’ve noticed that I get weird looks from people here when I say stuff. Probably the Southern accent doesn’t help.” Taking a small bite of fish, she says, “You really outdid yourself.”
“I didn’t make it.”
She gives me that fucking adorable eye roll again.
“You know what I mean.” Her expression tempers into something almost wistful. “I haven’t had a night out like this in…I don’t know how long.”
From what everyone has told me, she hasn’t done much of anything for the last three years. Her life is all about her children and nothing for herself.
For a moment, we sit in silence, enjoying our food, the night around us alive with the quiet magic of theSerenissima.
“Venice is so beautiful,” she says softly. “He would have loved coming back. There was a lot we missed the last time we were here.”
An invisible hand reaches inside my chest and chokes my damn heart.
“I’m sorry I’m here instead of him, Kitten.”
“Dammit, Fallon, that’s not what?—”
Elizabeth bolts out of her chair and pulls me out of mine before I can take my next breath. Her trim body crashes against me, her arms wrapping around me like she never plans to let me go. I hold her just as fiercely. Dear god, she feels like heaven in my arms. A heaven that a devil like me shouldn’t touch because she will never be mine. Her heart will always belong to Ryder.
Not able to stop myself, I bury my face in her fragrant hair, the blunt nails of my fingers digging into the silken fabric of her dress.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Shut up,” she rasps against my neck, her tears soaking into my collar. “Don’t ever think that your life means nothing. Thatyoumean nothing. Because to me, you meaneverything. You saved me when I needed you. It’s my turn to save you. No more running away. It’s time for you to come home.”
Chapter Eight
ELIZABETH
Butterflies but Not Goodbyes
At the sudden bounce-drop,I’m startled awake.
“Turbulence,” Fallon reassures me. “Nothing to worry about.”
I loosen the white-knuckle grip I didn’t realize I had on his forearm and roll my head on his shoulder to look at him. His eyes are closed, but he’s not asleep.
Slightly embarrassed that I used him as a pillow, I sit up and try to finger-comb my hair into submission.
Fallon’s private jet is different from the one I flew in before. It’s more like a luxury motorcoach with wings. There are sleeping quarters in the aft with a king-size bed and a mid-sized bathroom. The middle of the plane where we’re sitting is more like a living room with a comfortable U-shaped sectional piled high with throw pillows, and the rear galley next to the bedroom has a small kitchen and a service bar.
“How long was I out?” I ask, glancing over at the row of small windows. Nothing but sunny, blue sky.
“We’ve got another half hour before we land.”
I slept for almost the entire eight-hour flight? Did he even move during that time while I was practically draped over him?
