look. “Are you sure about this? I mean, I could put the wedding off. You know...until you finish grad school.”
And the truth was that Lizzie would do that if Jules asked her to make the sacrifice. She just hated how insistent Lizzie was on her going to grad school. Maybe now was the time to tell her that she’d changed her mind. That she wasn’t up for any more school at this point in her life, and that after doing an internship at the social services office, she knew that she wasn’t cut out to be a social worker. She just couldn’t stuff her feelings in a box and do what was expected of her.
As it was, she’d spoken up one too many times and was asked not to return. But she just couldn’t stand by and watch as government guidelines overruled common sense. It was frustrating. Infuriating. There had to be another way to help deserving children in this world, and she hadn’t figured out how yet. But she would. One way or another.
“Lizzie, listen. About grad school, I was thinking—”
“That we haven’t thrown you some sort of celebration.” Lizzie smiled, and her eyes sparkled with happiness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to steal your thunder with the wedding and all.”
“You didn’t. Honest.” The wedding was the best thing to happen as far as Jules was concerned. Her sister had more things to worry about than just her. “Getting married was something you and I never thought would happen for us. This is your chance to have a real family. You have to make the most of this—for both of us.”
Lizzie hugged her tight, and Jules blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from splashing onto her cheeks. She’d been kidding herself. Sure, gaining the freedom to make her own choices would be great, but the price of giving up this close relationship was almost more than she could bear.
Lizzie pulled back. “Does this mean that we’re okay?”
Jules nodded while stuffing down the torrent of emotions churning inside her. She wouldn’t ruin this for Lizzie. After all Lizzie had done for her, she deserved every bit of happiness she could find in this life.
“We’re perfect. Now let’s go see what the men are up to.”
“Knowing those two, we might have to break up a sparring match.”
Jules gaped. “They don’t get along?”
“Oh, no. They get along. But when Stefano starts his big-brother routine, Dante takes matters into his own hands. They end up acting like two-year-olds.” Lizzie smiled and shook her head. “If only Stefano would realize that Dante is all grown up now and not in need of his brotherly advice.”
Jules wanted to say that it was like the pot calling the kettle black, but she refrained. She knew it all came from a special place in Lizzie’s heart. And now wasn’t the time to delve into that messy subject. It could wait until later.
THIS COULDN’T BE HAPPENING.
The next day, Stefano stood in the office of Ristorante Massimo while Dante took a business call. They’d just returned from getting measured for new tuxes while the women were out shopping. He figured with his one and only brother getting hitched, it was time to pull out all the stops. After all, it was his duty to look his best with Jules on his arm—for the ceremony, of course.
From the disgruntled tone of Dante’s voice, the phone conversation wasn’t going well. And the way his brother was frowning told him that his brother was losing the argument.
Dante slammed the phone down and turned to him. “Lizzie isn’t going to like this. At all.”
“She isn’t going to like what?” Lizzie glided into the room and into Dante’s arms as though they’d been together for years.
Stefano’s gaze moved to Jules, who stood hesitantly in the doorway. He imagined what it’d be like for her to rush into his arms. He longed to pull her petite form to him. He inwardly groaned imagining her soft curves pressing against him.
Jules’s eyes met his. Was that a questioning look? Was it possible she had caught on to his wayward thoughts?
Impossible. His guilty conscience was just getting to him. He had no business fantasizing about her—or anyone.
He turned to Dante and Lizzie, who’d drifted apart. The smiles had faded and a serious undercurrent ran through the room. He wished Dante would just spill the news instead of letting the tension mount. Then again, maybe Dante was waiting for some privacy to talk with Lizzie alone.
“Maybe we should go,” Stefano said to Jules.
“Uh...” Her glance swung back and forth between Lizzie and Dante. “Okay. Call me.”
“No, wait. This involves both of you. Might as well tell everyone at once. Close the door, Lizzie.”
Without a word, she did as he asked, closing out the noise of the kitchen staff. Stefano straightened. This wasn’t going to be good. Maybe this was the last straw for Dante. Perhaps the setbacks had made him realize that the DeFiore men weren’t meant for marriage.
The bad part about all of this was that Stefano had grown to really like Lizzie. She had spunk and a fire in her that you just couldn’t help but admire. And she was good for his brother. Just like Gianna had been good for him. She had been good for him, hadn’t she? At some point, they had been good together...hadn’t they?
The memories stuck a sword of guilt through his gut. Her death was on his hands. He may not have done it, but he was the cause of it. If only he had kept his mouth shut. If only they hadn’t argued—
“Dante, you’re worrying me.” Lizzie stepped up to him. “What is it?”
“That was the studio on the phone.”
“But didn’t we just talk to them yesterday? I thought everything was settled.”
“It was. And then the execs looked at the footage we filmed this past week for the upcoming series.” Dante ran a hand over the back of his neck. “They don’t like it. They say that it isn’t fresh enough. They want to change the backdrop and the menus.”
“What?” Lizzie stepped back. Her mouth fell open, and her eyes widened. “They can’t do that.”
“They can. And they have.”
Well, this certainly wasn’t the news Stefano was expecting. And he was surprised to feel a huge wave of relief. Though he believed his brother was headed for trouble, he didn’t want to see him get hurt. It wasn’t his place to say anything. Dante would have to make his own decisions—for better or worse—all by himself, just like Stefano had done with Gianna.
He relaxed and settled on the couch in the office. He didn’t know why his brother had wanted him and Jules to stick around. She moved to the couch and sat down, too. Even at this respectable distance, she skewed his thinking. His only tangible thought was how her gentle floral scent reminded him of sunny days and grassy fields. And that was not good. He’d forfeited his right to enjoy a woman’s presence the night Gianna had died.
“Do you have any idea why
