“And this is what you want?”
She nodded. “This is what I want.”
“You are sure?”
She nodded again.
He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “Okay, then.” He turned to the door. “I will see you at Mancini’s.”
Mic cursed the cruelties of fate when Lily arrived at Mancini’s a few hours after him. He had, it seemed, lost his chance. For one shining moment in time eight years ago, his path and Lily’s path had synced. But because he’d gotten hurt rather than investigate why she refused his marriage proposal, he had lost her. After the sacrifice she’d made so that he could live his dream, he could not deprive her of hers by asking her to forget university and move to Paris with him.
But it was hard to work with her, to watch her happily go through the day as if nothing was wrong when his heart was broken. So he was glad when the call came in from his aunt, telling him that her condo had sold.
Not wasting a second, he thanked Rafe for giving him something to do for the weeks that could have been long and boring. Then he walked into the dining room to find Lily.
When he called her name, she faced him with a smile.
“My aunt’s condo sold.”
Her happy smile faded. “Oh.”
He shrugged into his jacket. “I am leaving.”
“You’re leaving now?” She blinked. “I thought maybe you could come by again tonight.”
He couldn’t handle the pain of it. He especially couldn’t trust himself not to beg her to give up her dream and follow him to Paris.
“I must leave now.”
He turned and walked out of Mancini’s, his heart hurting, but proud of himself for not asking her to give up her dream for him.
He drove to the condo and packed his duffel bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he walked to his car, got in and headed for Paris.
Lily fell to a chair in the dining room. Mila raced over. “Are you okay?”
“He’s gone.”
Mila glanced at the door. “You mean, Chef Mic?”
“Si.” Seeing the confused look on Mila’s face, Lily bounced out of her chair. She hadn’t played such a good role in the bedroom that morning for Mic, only to ruin it this afternoon by falling apart in front of her friends.
She pasted a smile on her face as she fought the sting of tears. “I am fine.”
But she wasn’t fine. Losing him the first time had killed her, but letting him go this time had a ring of finality to it. He would never be back … and even if he did come back to visit Rafe, neither of them would be so foolish as to let their heart get involved again.
Mic only got five miles before he cursed and slapped the steering wheel. He could not believe fate was so cruel to bring them together only to tear them apart.
But he also knew he could not ask her to sacrifice for him one more time. She had a life, dreams …
Hell, she had a right to her dreams. God knew, he was living his. There were no fewer than eight restaurants that wanted him. He could—and had—named his price. While she’d been stuck in Monte Calanetti, he could go anywhere he wanted—
He stopped his thoughts. He could go anywhere he wanted. Including Florence. He might not be able to ask her to give up her dream for him, but he sure could give up one little restaurant for her.
He turned his car around with a screech of tires.
Lily pulled herself together as best she could, but it wasn’t good enough. She needed to go home and cry this out.
She walked into the kitchen to ask Chef Rafe if she could have the afternoon off, but the back door opened and Mic walked in.
Her heart sped up, then slowed to a crawl. He was probably back for something he forgot. She turned and raced out of the kitchen just in time to see Gino escort customers to a table. She grabbed her order pad.
She got as far as saying, “Today’s specials are …” when she was lifted off her feet and swung around.
She blinked a few times and Mic’s face came into focus. “Mic?”
“Si.”
“What are you doing!”
“I’m taking you with me.”
“To Paris?” At first the idea thrilled her. She couldn’t bear to be without him. Then the whole thing sunk in. He was taking her to a city she didn’t know with no promise of a future. No mention of love.
“Put me down!”
“No. I lost you once. I’m not losing you again.” The words were nice, sweet, and filled her heart with such hope it almost burst, but they weren’t enough.
“I’m not going to Paris.”
“Good because I’m not going to Paris either.”
By this point, they were at Gino’s Maître D podium. He reached behind him and slid her coat off its hanger. Handing it to her, usually gruff Gino grinned. “It’s cold out there. You’re going to need this.”
She caught the coat as they whipped by Gino. “Mic!”
He set her down beside his car. “Eight years ago, you gave us up so I could live my dream. Now, I give up one measly restaurant so you can live your dream.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I can work anywhere I want!” He waved his arms as if to indicate the world. “I have two offers in Florence.”
“And you’re coming with me?”
“No. We’re going together. We’re getting married. And then we’ll both live our dreams.”
Her mouth fell. Her head spun. Her heart almost believed him. “But we don’t know each other.”
“We’ve always known each other.” He paused, stepped closer. “Always loved each other.” He laid his hand on her chest. “Your heart tells me.”
Her lips trembled.
“You don’t believe me?”
When she said nothing, he shook his head. “What is wrong?”
“I need to hear you say it.”
“Say … that I love you?” He laughed. “I love you. I adore you. I have always adored you. And I will not let you tell me no this time.”
A laugh broke through her tears. She bounced to her tiptoes and threw her arms around him. “Then I say yes. Yes. I love you. Yes, I will marry you.”
She barely got the words out of her mouth before he kissed her and for the first time in eight years Lily Norelli was whole again.
A Bride for the
Italian Boss
Susan Meier