Forever with Me (With Me in Seattle, #8)(64)

I dial Blake’s number.

“If you’re calling me, it didn’t go well.”

“He’s going to Italy,” I reply, and hate the sound of tears in my voice.

“Seriously?” Blake asks.

“I can’t make this crap up. The going gets tough and he runs off to freaking Italy. He didn’t even stay and fight for me, Blake. What in the hell is up with that?”

Blake is trying to talk, but I’m on a roll, angry and frustrated and so f*cking hurt I don’t know what to do with myself.

“I mean, am I that big of an idiot? Am I so unlovable that people can just leave me without so much as looking back?”

“Alecia, stop. Take a breath.”

I do as he says and wipe angrily at the tears on my cheeks.

“He was supposed to take me to Italy with him, and instead, as soon as he thinks the very worst of me, he hops on a plane.”

I can’t f*cking believe it.

“Alecia, I don’t think this has as much to do with Dominic as it does with you and your own issues.”

“I don’t have issues,” I reply stubbornly.

“Oh, sweetheart, you have more issues than any of the Real Housewife chicks.”

“I’m going to tell Emily you watch that crap.”

“Seriously, Alecia. You don’t know that Dom has abandoned you.”

“People don’t stay in my life, Blake,” I reply softly. “They just don’t.”

I end the call and stare blindly at the freeway as I drive home. There are no more tears, just stunned silence. I park and walk up to my condo, let myself in, and stare in disbelief at the shoes Dom gave me where I left them when I hurriedly toed them off to get ready for my run with Blake. I pace around the space, stare out the window at the ferry floating by, and then pace some more.

People don’t stay in my life.

And why don’t they? I never speak to my parents. My ex-husband walked away from our relationship with barely a look back.

I’m tired of being disposable.

You’re my treasure.

God, he was a damn talented charmer, I’ll give him that.

With my mind made up, I fish my phone out of my bag and dial Emily’s number.

“Hey, boss.”

“Hey,” I reply, putting a smile in my voice, and quite proud that my voice doesn’t shake. “I’ve had something come up. Would you mind taking over for me for the next week or so?”

“Sure,” she replies, and I can hear the questions in her voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” I lie. I just have to go have it out with my parents, which is long overdue. “I just have some personal things to see to.”

“Okay. Don’t worry about anything.”

I swallow the lump in my throat and take a deep, silent breath.

“You’re the best. Thanks.”

“No worries.”





Chapter Nineteen





Gianna is fussing at the stove over our grandmother’s red sauce, humming under her breath, then pulls fresh bread out of the oven. I missed this kitchen. It makes me think of Nonna and laughter and home.

Our grandfather updated this kitchen years ago, installing an industrial stove, oven and refrigerator, and Nonna made good use of it, always in the kitchen, always feeding someone.

If we’d been smart, we would have bottled and sold her red sauce while she was alive, rather than wine. It most likely would have sold better.

But she would have had none of it.

I sip my wine, a pretty little Merlot that came from this land, and page through my cousin’s financials on her laptop one more time.

“So, he was making withdrawals of more than ten thousand Euros at a time, and you didn’t notice? Come on, Gianna, I’m not stupid.”

“He always had reasons,” she says, flailing her arms about as she paces the kitchen. I check the time, conscious that Liliana will be here soon, and I want this wrapped up before she arrives. “His car was broken. He had medical bills.”

“Marco has never been sick a day in his life.”


“Why would I question him?” she demands, her deep brown eyes on fire. “Why? He’s my brother, yes?”

“You would question him because he’s done this before.”

“But never like this!”

I sigh and push my fingers through my hair. I’m still exhausted from jet lag, from being angry at Alecia. From worrying about this vineyard.

“I’m going to go to the bank next week, Gianna. I’ll get you figured out. I’m still digging through your records, which are a mess by the way, and trying to figure out exactly how much he owes you.”

“He’s not going to pay it back, Dominic.”

“Oh yes,” I reply, my voice full of steel. “He will. And when I find him, I’m going to kick his ass.”

“That’s not why I asked you here.”

“Well, it’s happening anyway. You wanted my help, and you’re getting it.”

She stops by the table, twisting the kitchen towel in her hands and finally wraps her arms around my shoulders and hugs me tightly. “Thank you for coming right away, Dom. Thank you for helping.”