Page 51 of Broken Trust

His eyes don't leave mine. He could have handed them to me in the park with Rosa. I've seen him enough Sundays now for him to have done it a dozen times. But he chose today, when Matteo is here.

Matteo steps forward, wiping his hands on a towel. “We're closed, man. You shouldn't be here.”

“Gia.” Dante doesn't even look at him. “This is your restaurant. If you want me to leave, I'll leave.”

“I said we're closed.”

I take a deep breath as the air in the kitchen goes tight. Dante came in through the back, the door I once told him I always leave unlocked. It's one of a hundred little details I used to tell him when we were married, and he never seemed to take any of it in. Now, for the first time, I realize he's started listening.

Can people really change?

“No, Matteo.” I set the rolling pin down on the table. “I need to talk to Dante.”

“After everything I've done for you?” His voice stays low and reasonable, which is so much worse than shouting. “I fixed your kitchen. Your menu. You. You were a wreck when I met you, crying into your ragù over a man who slept with your sister. And now you want to run straight back to him?”

I shift away from Matteo, putting the corner of the table between us.

“Oh, I see what's going on.” His lip curls. “He cheats on you, and now he wants you back because your twin dumped him. I knew you were a waste of time. Maybe I should go look up Mia, like your husband did!”

He yanks off his apron, throws it on the counter, and spins on his heel. He doesn't give me a second to answer, but he's already said everything I need to hear.

The back door slams so hard the pans rattle on their hooks, and I jump.

For a moment neither of us moves. Then I turn to Dante, my hands still shaking. “Why did you bring them to me today?”

“Because he's no good for you.” He sets the envelope down on the steel table between us. “Even Nella came to see me. She told me to talk some sense into you.”

I shake my head, feeling like a fool. “I can't trust you.”

He nods slowly, like he expected that. Then, right there on my kitchen tiles, he goes down on his knees.

“All I'm begging you to do is try,” he says, looking up at me. “Because I know one thing for sure. I will never hurt you again. Never.”

He stays there for the longest time, flour on his knees, waiting. I think about everything we've been through, and who we've both become since.

The same question keeps circling back.

And I realize I haven't changed, even after everything. I let a man walk into my life and turn me into the woman I swore I'd never be again.

“I thought, if you're willing, we could start with therapy sessions,” Dante says.

I laugh, I can't help it. “You? Therapy?”

His voice catches. “I'm serious, Gia. I want you back.”

I pick up the envelope and slide the papers out. There isn't a single signature on them. He never signed. He's not letting me go, no matter what I tell him or what I do. Dante still wants me as his wife.

“But, Dante, if the therapy doesn't work out,” I say, “you sign these papers, and we're officially done.”

He holds out his hand. “Deal.”

I shake it, and then I keep hold of it and help him up off the floor.

“Now,” I say, wiping my eyes with my wrist, “I've got a kitchen to clean.”

“I'll help you.”

We clean the kitchen together in silence. I throw away every trace of Matteo, his apron, his knives, the list of specials he pinned over my station, knowing that tomorrow I'll be interviewing for a new head chef. And I need to stop being the person I used to be, because if Dante can change, then so can I.