Dante’s POV
I sit on the edge of the bed, waiting.
I wait for about an hour or two but she doesn’t show up. She’s probably in the guest room.
I understand why she’s angry, but I can’t undo what has already been done.
I only kept the truth from her because I was terrified she would leave.
And now she’s down the hall and I can’t even knock because what the hell i’m I supposed to say?
Sorry, I let your father die? Sorry, I lied? Sorry, I’m in love with you?
I stand up from the bed. I need a drink.
I scatter my cabinet until I find the right drink for how I’m feeling. 1978 vintage bourbon.
I pour myself a glass and sink into the bed.
I’m 32 years old, I’ve killed men, I’ve burned businesses to the ground. And here I am sitting like a kid because a 24-year-old girl won’t talk
