He sighed, and I could practically feel him rolling his eyes. He would say that he was so much more worldly and sophisticated than me that it balanced itself out. Then he’d say, “When you’re sixty and I’m fifty-eight, you won’t care.”
“But I’m not sixty. I’m twenty-four,” I’d reply, and we’d argue about it more.
“I guess Nico’s had a bigger impact on me than I realized,” he said. “He’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him, and it made me realize that I want what he has. Creating arbitrary restrictions because of age seems foolish to me.”
Maybe he really was ready to settle down. He’d definitely had a chance to sow plenty of royal oats. There was certainly enough photographic evidence of it.
Not that I cared. He could run off and marry whoever he wanted and have lots of babies and it wouldn’t affect my life one way or the other.
Yeah, I wasn’t buying the lie either.
But, forgetting about my own personal drama, he was right about one thing. He was my friend. I did care about him and his future. And I couldn’t let him be snowed by some awful reptile like Abigail. “You really think the woman you want to marry is here?”
He reached over and put his fingers on my chin, turning me to him. “I really think the woman I want to marry is here.”
His eyes were so intense, so honest. The world stopped. Time ceased to exist. The oceans had dried up for all I knew. There was only me, Dante, and that current that tugged me to him, begging me to kiss him.
Which I could never do again.
Letting out a shaky breath, I tried to joke. “Every other man is terrified of getting married, and I know the one guy who thinks it’s the best thing ever.”
I turned my face away for my own sanity. His fingers lingered for a second and then dropped.
“Does that mean you’ll help me?”
“Does a one-legged duck swim in a circle?”
He sounded adorably confused. “I don’t know.”
“It does. It means yes, I’ll help you. I’ll stay. For a little while. That’s what friends are for, right?”
I really, really hoped I wouldn’t live to regret it.
“So we are friends.”
“Of course we’re friends.”
“With benefits?” he asked hopefully.
I raise a scornful eyebrow at him. “Um, no. No benefits whatsoever. Benefitless.”
Then he laughed, and I suppressed the desire to laugh with him. Because every time I did, another one of my defenses fell down.
He took the backing off of the pin. “May I?”
All of the oxygen left the room. I was playing with fire again, and I was definitely going to get burned. But stupidly I said, “’Kay.”
He tugged my jersey lightly and pushed the pin through the fabric. He reached inside to attach the backing, and as his fingers brushed against my heated skin, I hoped that when I passed out I wouldn’t hit the edge of the counter on my way down.
Then he adjusted the pin, making sure the heart pointed the right direction. My actual heart beat so fast I anticipated a visit to a hospital in my near future.
He didn’t help the situation when he put his hand on top of mine. I could just imagine the doctors’ conversation. “She ended up here how again?”
“The prince touched her, apparently.”
“Thank you, Limone.” His voice sounded husky and full of emotion as he interrupted my ride on the crazy train. “It means the world to me that you would stay and sacrifice to help me. Grazie.”
Serious, emotional Dante again. He was making all my feminine parts overload.
“And if I get to surround myself with beautiful women in the process, what’s the harm?”
I let out a sigh of relief. This I understood and could deal with. “There’s the Dante I know and lo . . .” I trailed off in a panic, realizing what I’d nearly said.
“Love?” he finished playfully.
“The Dante I know and tolerate for a paycheck,” I responded, and he put both of his hands over his heart, as if I had wounded him, and whirled backward. It made me laugh.
“If you stay, will you have time to do your work and plan your wedding?”