DANTE’S POV
“What do you mean she just left for the airport?” The words tumbled out, sharp and urgent, with each bloody syllable feeling like it might pull me out of this spiraling dread. I stared at Helena’s mother, eyes wide, pulse thundering in my ears.
She squinted up at me, her hands covered in soil as she wiped them against her apron. “Exactly what I said, Mr. D’Angelo. She’s moving back to Paris.”
“What! Why?” My voice cracked, and for the first time in years, I felt powerless, like a boy caught in the tide of a storm too strong to fight.
“There ain’t no point staying here noW, is there? Her husband doesn’t remember her, and there’s no document to prove a wedding. I don’t know what to tell you anymore, but she’s gone and according to her, she never wants to step foot in Algreen cove again” Her words were blunt, honest, digging into me like the prongs of a thorn.
I made a frustrated sound deep in my throat, fingers raking through my hair as my mind raced. Different possibilities ran wild in my head-how to stop her, what to say, how to make her stay. Before I could move, she spoke again, softer this time.
“So, I guess you remember now.”
I met her eyes, and the weight of my acknowledgment pulled a nod from me. “Everything-well, most things. But the important ones, at least. I need to see her. How long ago did she leave?”
“About thirty minutes,” she said, watching me with a mix of pity and something else-maybe a warning.
Thirty minutes. Panic surged through me like wildfire. I was already turning to dash toward my car when her dirt-streaked hand reached out and clamped down on my wrist, surprisingly strong.
“How about you just let her be?” Her voice trembled, and her eyes softened with an ache I recognized too well. “Don’t you think you’ve caused her enough pain already?”
“I-I-” My mouth opened, but the words caught like a net in my throat. How could I tell her that I hadn’t meant to forget? That I had buried what we were, not out of cruelty, but out of a twisted survival? How could I put into words that I loved Helena more than my own pride, more than my past mistakes? Yet here I was, the cause of her leaving.
“I need to find her.” My voice was ragged, strained with desperation. I gently pushed her hand away, my chest tightening with each heartbeat as I turned and ran to my car.
I pushed the key into the ignition, my hands trembling as the engine roared to life. The roads were busy, but I weaved through the traffic, my foot heavy on the gas. It usually took an hour to get to the airport, but I made it in forty-five minutes. The entire drive was a blur of red lights and honking horns, the dull ache in my head flaring with each passing second, bringing back images of Helena’s face and memories that slashed through my mind like lightning.
When I reached the airport, I barely remembered parking. My legs moved on their own, propelling me through the automatic doors. The throng of people was suffocating-voices, suitcases, the rolling echo of announcements overhead. My eyes darted through the crowd, searching, scanning, my breath quickening.
A sharp, sudden pain sliced through my skull, a memory surfacing with brutal clarity: Helena dancing in my boardroom, defiant and beautiful. The vision overlapped with the present until a familiar figure caught my attention, rolling a suitcase, her hair falling in waves down her back. Jeans and a simple T-shirt-unmistakably her.
“Helena!” I shouted, my voice a mix of relief and raw emotion that cracked at the end.
She turned.
HELENA’S POV
I rolled my suitcase into the waiting taxi, the wheels scraping against the gravel with a sound that felt like goodbye. My mother trailed behind me, her steps hesitant.
“Do you really have to go, Helena? You can’t keep running away from your home. This is your home, this town,” she said, her voice tight with emotion.
I paused, the same familiar sadness settling in my chest, tugging at the strings of my resolve. I turned to face her, the longing to stay etched into every line on her face. “I guess it’s time to find a new home, Mama.”
We stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills that softened when she stepped forward and wrapped me in a hug. I held her tight, the warmth of her body grounding me, the scent of lavender and earth filling my senses like a memory I didn’t want to forget. She kissed my cheek, her lips trembling.
“I’ll call Vivianna on the way,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady. I pulled back and climbed into the car, feeling the heaviness settle deeper in my heart as the taxi pulled away. I glanced back to see her standing there, one hand raised in a silent goodbye, eyes glistening.
The city blurred past as I tried to focus on the road ahead, but the memories wouldn’t leave me alone. A part of me didn’t want to leave. A large part of me knew I would miss him-Dante. His eyes, his touch, the way his kisses ignited fire beneath my skin. But I shoved it all to the back of my mind. I couldn’t afford to reminisce, not with Gianna’s threat looming over me like a storm cloud.
By the time the taxi pulled up at the airport, I was running later than I’d expected, but there was still enough time. I paid the driver, stepped out, and pulled my suitcase from the trunk. As I rolled it toward the entrance, I heard a voice call my name, strong and familiar, slicing through the cacophony of announcements and chatter.
“Helena!”
I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart slamming into my ribs. No. It couldn’t be. I turned so quickly I nearly lost my balance and saw him-Dante-sprinting toward me, eyes wild with something between desperation and relief. Before I could take another breath, he had me in his arms, pulling me into a hug so tight it nearly knocked the air from my lungs.
“Thank goodness. I found you. I thought I’d lost you forever.”
My heart stuttered, and I pulled back just enough to search his eyes, my own filled with questions. “What are you-do you remember?” The words were barely a whisper, and they burned my throat with hope I didn’t dare feel. I could see it in his eyes, recognition staining them.
“Don’t leave,” he said, his voice breaking with something raw, something real. “I remember everything, and I’m so sorry-please, don’t leave.”
“Dante-” I wanted to tell him it wasn’t that simple, that I couldn’t stay, that there was more at stake than just us. Our secret child. The truth that he could never find out.
“Please,” he said again, and it shattered me.
“How did you know I was leaving?” I managed, searching his face for the answer.
“I went by your house to look for you-your mother told me.”
“Oh.” It was all I could manage, the word empty, the emotions overwhelming.
“How did you remember?” I asked, my voice trembling with disbelief.
“I’ll explain everything later, but don’t leave,” he repeated, his hands gripping my arms as if he could keep me there by sheer will.
Before I could respond, a voice sliced through the fragile moment, sharp and shrill.
“I hate to break up this reunion,” Gianna said, approaching us with a predatory smile. Her eyes glinted as she met Dante’s questioning gaze. “I followed you with a taxi,” she added, her voice dripping with smugness.
“But this little reunion doesn’t mean anything,” she continued, her smile widening. “It’s not like there’s a document to prove your marriage, especially when the officiating priest is dead.”
Dante’s jaw clenched, and he stepped forward, shielding me from her venomous presence. His eyes were fierce, daring her to say more. “Well, it doesn’t really matter,” he said, his voice steady, unyielding. “Because we never got divorced in the first place.”