Soon
1027 Words
Dante POV
Dante closed his eyes, letting the hot water wash over him, trying to clear his thoughts. To say he was doing well would have been a lie. He’d started to spiral since seeing Gia, and every day a new memory would pop up in his mind.
Isabella was even starting to notice his absence, asking him if everything was alright. It wasn’t. But of course, he couldn’t tell her that. It would hurt her, and that was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.
So he kept his mouth shut and pretended that everything was alright.
Suddenly, the shower door opened, and in stepped Isabella. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and placed his cheek against his back. Dante turned around and pulled her against his chest. He was trying to be a good husband. Maybe if he put in more effort with Isabella, he would get Gia out of his mind.
He could feel himself getting harder. s**t. He shouldn’t have thought about her… but he couldn’t help himself. His mind suddenly drifted to her naked body. She’d been so perfect.
Not that Isabella wasn’t easy on the eyes. She was a very beautiful woman and he had no problems getting turned on by her. But it was just s*x to him. He didn’t love her—not like he’d loved Gia.
Isabella stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, her mouth soft and eager against his.
Dante let her.
He slid his hands over her waist, cupping her curves. She arched into him with a pleased little sound that normally would’ve made him smile.
This morning, it just made him feel hollow.
He kissed her back harder, more out of habit than passion, pushing her gently against the warm tiles.
Isabella moaned, threading her fingers through his wet hair.
He shut his eyes and let instinct take over, pretending—just for a moment—that the ache in his chest wasn’t there.
It was quick. Needy. Over before either of them could pretend it meant more than it did.
Dante pressed a kiss to Isabella’s damp forehead and murmured something he didn’t even hear.
She smiled up at him, satisfied, her eyes shining with devotion he didn’t deserve.
Dante swallowed hard and reached past her to turn off the shower.
As he grabbed a towel, a thought flickered through his mind, dark and fleeting:
At least he'd made sure there would be no accidents.
His stomach twisted.
Guilt was becoming a second skin these days.
After kissing her goodbye, Dante dropped Aria off at school and headed to the office, hoping that today, he would actually get some work done.
Dante sat at the edge of his desk, a half-empty tumbler of whiskey dangling between his fingers.
The city lights glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, cold and far away. Everyone else had gone home hours ago. Even Fabio had stopped lingering outside the door, finally giving up and heading out for the night.
It should have been peaceful.
But the manila folder sitting in his desk might as well have been a bomb.
He hadn't touched it all day. Had buried himself in meetings, in numbers, in anything that would keep his mind from straying. But it hadn’t worked.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her.
Gia.
Smiling. Laughing. Looking at him like he was the only man in the world.
He took another sip of whiskey, feeling the burn slide down his throat.
What was he even hoping to find in that file? Evidence that she'd moved on? That she'd built a happy life without him? That she didn’t think about him the way he thought about her?
He should leave it closed. He should move on.
Instead, Dante pulled out the key to the drawer and opened it, placing the folder on his desk, the crisp sound of paper against wood far too loud in the quiet room.
For a long moment, he just stared at it.
Then, slowly—like a man opening his own grave—he flipped it open.
The first page was dry:
Gia Costa.
Married to Leonardo Costa.
Residence: Listed.
Known affiliations: Listed.
His jaw tightened as he flipped to the next page.
Photos.
The first was of Gia coming out of a grocery store, sunglasses shielding her face, a paper bag clutched to her chest.
The second, her exiting a restaurant, hand in hand with—Leonardo. They were both smiling and laughing, his hand around her waist.
Dante clenched his jaw. What was he doing? He was just causing himself even more pain. He should throw it away and never look at it again. But he couldn’t. Something was pushing him forward—urging him to keep going.
He flipped to the next photo and froze.
It was another one of Gia—but in her hand—
Dante froze.
Her son.
A small boy with dark, unruly hair and bright, mischievous eyes.
He stared at the picture, at the shape of the kid’s jaw, the stubborn tilt of his chin.
Dante’s heart stopped.
No.
His hand trembled slightly as he flipped to the next photo — a closer shot. The boy laughing, one dimple peeking out on the left side of his cheek.
The same dimple Dante had stared at in the mirror his whole life.
He sat back hard in his chair, the world tilting around him.
She never left. She has a son. Alessandro's words from the restaurant echoed in his mind.
Dante squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the wave of emotion threatening to crush him.
He's mine.
There was no doubt. No maybe. No question.
Gia had been pregnant when she left. Pregnant with his child. But why hadn’t she said anything? Had she—not known?
She had been pregnant, and he hadn't been there. Not for her. Not for him.
Slowly, he set the photo down, staring at the photo.
His son.
He had a son.
And Leo Costa had been raising him.
He knew there was no going back now. He needed to see her.
Soon.
- Writer
