I roll my eyes, but he just grins.
“No, instead you said, and this is the Cliff’s Notes version, but as a man, this is what he heard, fuck you. I don’t have to justify anything to you. Get the eff out.”
“Shit.”
“I have dinner with Emily tonight, so I’m going to go. I suggest you go to the vineyard and apologize, Leash.”
I wrinkle my nose, but I know he’s right.
“I hate the taste of crow.”
“Take a salt shaker.”
***
I try to call Dom’s cell phone, but there’s no answer. In fact, it goes straight to voice mail.
He’s so angry he shut off his phone?
Shit.
I pull into Dom’s driveway and walk inside without knocking.
“Dom!” I poke my head into the playroom, the dining room, the kitchen.
No luck.
“Dom!”
I’m walking briskly down the hallway to his office when Celeste sticks her head out, surprise written on her pretty face.
“Alecia.”
“Hey, is Dom in his office?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” I turn toward the back of the house. “Is he out in the barn?”
“No, he’s on his way to Italy.”
I blink and turn back to her, sure I’ve misheard her.
“Excuse me?”
“He’s on a plane, Alecia. He got called home.”
This is his home.
“When?”
“Not long ago.”
He’s on his way to Italy, and he didn’t tell me?
“When will he be back?”
“He didn’t know. It could be a few weeks. Maybe a month.”
“He’s going to Italy for a month.” I sound like an idiot, repeating everything she’s saying, but I can’t help it.
Italy is going to love you.
“It could be less.”
I nod and then shake my head, trying to clear it. He left for Italy without telling me.
“Are you okay, dear?”
“Oh, I’m fine.”
“Do you want me to give him a message?”
“No.” I shake my head and offer her a bright smile. “No message. Thanks.”
I turn and walk as quickly as I can out of Dominic’s house, to my car, throw it in drive and speed away, barely feeling the tears running down my cheeks. I try to call his cell phone again, but it goes straight to voice mail.
He’s on a motherfucking plane.
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 fucking 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 fucking 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.”