Page 12 of Beneath the Dawn

She could say reading. Her choice had been thriller novels until her life became a thriller of its own. Still, she had to say something and selected a sport that she enjoyed. “Pickleball.”

“I play, too, although I grew up with soccer. I got awarded a soccer scholarship from Berkeley and turned it down. I wanted to go to Harvard, which doesn’t offer athletic scholarships.”

“Any particular reason you wanted to attend Harvard?”

“Generations of Averas graduated from there. I felt it would be an honor to carry on the tradition.”

She nodded. “On the beach today, you wore a San Francisco 49ers shirt. I take it you’re a fan.”

“Can’t help it. I was born in San Francisco.”

Marti blinked. She hadn’t known that. “You were?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you were born in Italy. I remember Nana once saying that both you and your father were full-blooded Italians.”

“We are, since both my parents and my grandparents, and all my ancestors before them, are one-hundred percent Italian. However, since my father and I were born in the United States, we are also Italian Americans. I have a lot of family in Sicily on both of my parents’ sides,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

He held her gaze and smiled. “I’m curious about something, Marti.”

“What?”

“How did you and your sister come to have gray eyes?”

She chuckled. “That’s an easy answer. It’s a very strong trait on my father’s side of the family. His grandmother, who had silver gray eyes, was originally from Finland. His grandfather was from Jamaica.”

“How did they meet?”

“According to Dad, his grandfather was a Jamaican sailor onboard a British vessel back in the 1920’s. His grandmother was traveling abroad as a domestic worker. They met and fell in love. All her kids and grandkids…including my dad, inherited her gray eyes. So far, the trait continues. Kara and I have them, and so do Kara’s two daughters. Chances are her son will be born with gray eyes as well.”

She took another sip of her coffee. “By the way, I was born in San Francisco, too, and also a 49ers fan.”

“Just something else we have in common,” he pointed out. “I’ve discovered we like or dislike some of the same things. Neither of us is interested in a committed relationship. We both like our steaks cooked medium rare and drink our coffee black with sugar--the espresso way, which originated in Italy, I might add. We enjoy pickleball, and we were born in San Francisco and are 49ers fans.”

She smiled, finding it amusing that he evidently had been compiling a list. “You find that interesting, Dante? All the things we have in common?”

He returned her smile. “Very much. Now I have another question for you.”

“What is it?” she asked, picking up her fork to resume eating the last of her pie.

“Do you have any regrets, Marti?”

Wow, he was definitely getting to the real nitty-gritty, Marti thought. Of all the questions he’d asked, that one hit home. Mainly because she didn’t have to think about her response.

“Yes. Two, actually,” she said, going for complete honesty. “The first is falling in love with a man I thought I could trust. I told you about that on the beach.”

He nodded, and when her pause was longer than normal, he asked, “And the second?”

She drew in a deep breath and then confessed something several people living in Charlotte now knew. “I intentionally lied to my sister about the guy she had fallen in love with. I wanted to break them up.”

CHAPTER 5

Dante stopped eating and stared at Marti, finding her words hard to believe. Of course, his curiosity was piqued. He studied her, wondering what she’d say about that. Her silver-gray eyes appeared a muted ash gray, as if shrouded in something deeper than regret. More like remorse.

“I can only assume you told the lie because you thought you were protecting her,” he said.

She placed down her fork, as if surprised at his words. “Why would you assume that?” she asked in a soft voice.