from himself?
It was all true. But he couldn’t take back his words. She’d never believe him. And if she did, where would that leave them?
His temples started to throb. Oh, it didn’t matter what he felt for her. Just speaking the words that she meant something to him would only spur her on to stay here, and then what? One day she’d wake and realize that she’d sacrificed everything for him, and then she’d leave. She’d go off to follow her dreams.
It was best to let her go now before they got in too deep. He knew that she cared for him, but it wasn’t as if they’d made promises to each other. The exit door was still wide-open for both of them. By giving her a healthy shove through it, he was doing her a big favor. She may not realize it now, but in time she would understand.
She’d return to her life in New York—to grad school—and she’d soon forget about him. His gut churned. With her beauty, she could have her choice of men.
At last, the women stepped into the waiting area. Each was carrying a white zippered garment bag. They were chatting back and forth. Neither even seemed to notice him. He didn’t know why it should bother him. He was, after all, just the chauffeur. And this was what he wanted—Jules to forget about him—wasn’t it?
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, not sure if they were leaving or if there was more that needed to be done. When Lizzie’s phone buzzed, she held up a finger to Jules to wait a moment.
Jules glanced over at him. When she didn’t move, he did. He strode over and held out his hand. “Let me take that for you.”
She didn’t say a word as she handed over the dress. Once she’d adjusted it so that it wouldn’t wrinkle, she turned and picked up a bridal magazine. As though he wasn’t even in the room, she thumbed through the glossy pages.
He’d been privy to all the other stuff for the wedding except the dresses. He had to admit he was really curious to see what Jules would be wearing. Would it be purple like the paper flowers he’d helped her make? Or would it be another color? Was it short, showing off her legs? Or was it longer on the bottom with the top scaled back and showing off her bare shoulders and that butterfly on her chest?
He cut off his thoughts. They were only going to get him in trouble. What Jules wore to the wedding made no difference to him. He inwardly groaned, wishing that were the case.
“Are you ready to go?” He hoped so. The tension was starting to give him a headache.
She glanced up. “Are you that anxious to get away from me?”
“Of course not.”
She turned back to the magazine. “I could take the train back. You don’t have to wait if you’re that anxious to go.”
“Would you stop putting words in my mouth? I just wanted to know if I should take the dress to the car.”
“Oh.” She glanced down at the earth-tone swirls of the plush carpeting.
How in the world had they gone from laughter and kissing among other delicious things to this awkward silence? Agitation churned in his gut. He knew the answer, and he didn’t like it one bit. He’d let things get out of hand. When he’d tried to fix it, it was too late. And he’d only made things worse.
Lizzie approached them. “That was Dante. He needs me right away at the restaurant. Something’s come up. Do you think you could handle picking out the candles for the tables? I’m really sorry about this.”
More time together. More stress and tension. Stefano’s body grew rigid.
“Sure.” Jules wore a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Do you need anything else?”
“Not that I can think of.” Lizzie gave her a hug. “You’ve been great. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. I’m really going to miss you when you leave for school.”
“I’m sure you’ll be so busy being a newlywed that you won’t even notice.”
Lizzie beamed. “I think you’re right. Oh, there is one more thing. Would you mind stopping by the florist? They called and said that one of the flowers they ordered is out of stock or some such thing. Anyway, they said they had a suitable replacement, but I haven’t had a chance to stop by. Would you mind?”
This was the last straw. Stefano just couldn’t take it anymore. Everyone was acting as if everything was perfect, and it wasn’t. Nothing about this was right. Jules was hiding the truth from her sister, and her sister was taking advantage of Jules’s guilt and generosity.
“Yes, she minds,” he heard himself say. “She’s been running herself ragged for you because of that television show, and she can’t do everything. You need to stop taking advantage of Jules and listen to what she needs and wants.”
Both women gaped at him as if he’d just sprouted another head. But he didn’t care at this point. Lizzie didn’t know how much it was costing Jules to spend time in the car with him. He could tell that she just wanted to get away from him.
Jules stepped up to him and poked a finger at his chest. “You’re the pot calling the kettle black. Who are you to tell Lizzie that when you refuse to hear what I’ve been telling you? You are so caught up in trying to make up for the past that you can’t see what’s right in front of you. You’re squandering your future, and it’s for nothing. You did nothing wrong.” Her shoulders hunched as she shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m wasting my time. You refuse to accept anything I say.”
He wanted to object, but he couldn’t. Was she right? Was it time to let go of the past? Could he move past the guilt?
Jules snatched the dress from him and turned her back to him. “Come on, Lizzie.”
At the sight of her retreating back, he once again found his voice. “Jules, wait.”
She stopped and turned, giving him an icy, pointed stare that stabbed straight through to his heart. “Lizzie, I need someplace to stay tonight.”
“Umm...sure. Whatever you need.” Lizzie frowned at him. When he went to approach Jules, who was already pulling the front door open, Lizzie held up her palm, stopping him in his tracks. “Let her go.”
He blew out a pent-up breath as he raked his fingers through his hair. He’d blown it. He’d meant to help Jules and instead he’d opened his mouth and inserted his size-twelve shoe. Once upon a time he’d been good at talking to the ladies, but lately he just never seemed to say the right thing. At least not where Jules was concerned.
Still he couldn’t stand the thought of her hating him. He had to say something. Whether or not it would help things he didn’t know. “I’m sorry.”
The glass door swung shut, and his words were lost in the warm breeze. Oh, man, what had he done? He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to gather himself. How had things ended up in such a jumbled mess? The truth was he’d ended up causing Jules the very same pain he’d been trying to save her from.
He had to stop them. He had to try again to apologize. But he was too late. He stopped on the sidewalk and didn’t see the women anywhere. It was as though they’d vanished.
When Dante heard about this he’d be lucky if he didn’t drive to the vineyard and kick him around the villa. And, frankly, he couldn’t blame his brother. He’d utterly screwed up everything.
* * *
Late the following morning, Jules strolled to the living room of Dante and Lizzie’s very spacious apartment. She hoped that she’d slept late enough that her sister would be downstairs at Ristorante Massimo.
“About time you woke up.” Lizzie’s voice echoed across the room. “I was starting to get worried about you.” She held up a mug. “Would you like some caffeine?”
Jules yawned as she nodded her head. She’d been up most of the night thinking about Stefano and wondering what his outburst at the bridal