Marriage Made In Monte Calanetti. Susan Meier

other waitresses had finished before Lily, who was busily counting her tips. The kitchen lights went out and Mic knew they were alone.

      “I think I’m going to have to walk you to your car.”

      Her brown eyes met his. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

      “Maybe you should be.”

      She shook her head. “You think you are funny with your macho words and your stupid tricks.”

      “I’m just trying to figure everything out.”

      The look she gave him was soft with pain. “Don’t. Please. Let it alone.” She raced to undo the door and left before he could even grab his coat.

      He stared after her. The woman had hurt him. The pain she’d inflicted had almost cost him his dream. He shouldn’t be curious about why she was still in the town they’d loved.

      He shouldn’t care that she was sad.

      But he was.

      And maybe he was approaching this all wrong?

      Maybe there was a better way to uncover the secrets she kept?

CHAPTER EIGHT

      The next day, Rafe had an afternoon appointment in Rome and Mic took over the kitchen for dinner. He didn’t have time to think about squelching his feelings for Lily. But at the end of the night, when he went into the dining room, expecting to see it clean and quiet, he found a couple dallying over their meal and Lily sitting at the bar, obviously waiting for them to leave.

      He didn’t have to keep her company as she waited, but part of him couldn’t let her sit alone. And maybe if they had a normal conversation, his old feelings for her would go.

      He ambled to the bar, walked behind it, pulled out a bottle of wine. “Interested?”

      She glanced down at her hands.

      “Look. I’m sorry about kissing you. Sorry about pushing you the other night. Let’s share a glass of wine and make peace.”

      Her eyes met his. “Okay. Maybe a glass while the customers finish.”

      He brought two wine glasses from beneath the bar, opened the bottle and poured.

      She said, “You did pretty well tonight.”

      He laughed. “Mancini’s is a jewel, but I’ve actually worked bigger.”

      “Ah.”

      He leaned back against the shelf behind the bar. He didn’t want to be tempted by sitting beside her, but the view from across the bar might actually be better. He could see her face, her flowing hair, her full pink lips.

      “You don’t want to hear about the places I’ve been?”

      Her gaze jumped to his. “Actually, I do.”

      “Though I thoroughly enjoyed every post in Europe, I had a real love for one of my U.S. jobs.”

      Her eyes brightened. “Really?”

      “Yes. I spent a year at a restaurant in Las Vegas.”

      “The place they gamble?” She frowned. “And you liked that the best?”

      “The city is full of energy. Life. Lights.” He shook his head. “There’s a party atmosphere everywhere. It spills onto the streets, weaves into the restaurants. The whole town is entertainment.”

      “Quite different than the subdued streets of Paris.”

      He leaned across the bar, studying her, unable to stop the stirrings of emotions from the past. He’d never really been able to confide in anyone the way he had Lily. And he’d missed that. He’d missed having someone who cared what he did.

      “Paris has its nightlife.”

      She smiled sadly and glanced down at her wine. “I’m sure.”

      Her sadness hit him like a punch in the gut and he was twenty again, simultaneously being offered the adventure of a lifetime and losing the woman who’d been his other half. The confusion of her rejection filled him.

      “I would have loved to show you.”

      Her serious brown eyes met his. “You couldn’t have shown me.”

      He frowned.

      “Mic, we didn’t have any money.”

      He batted his hand. “There are lots of things you don’t need money for.”

      She shook her head. “And there were lots of things that we did need money for. I was uneducated. The best job I could have gotten is what I’m doing now. Waitressing. We would have been cold, hungry.”

      A horrible realization rose in him. It coated his mind like smoke in a brush fire, and awakened memories he’d forgotten.

      “You were angry that we were broke?”

      “I was concerned that you would give up your dream to support me and Melony.”

      He stepped back. “Oh, my God. You dumped me because you believed I couldn’t support you?”

      “I ended us because I knew I was dead weight. Especially since I came with a little girl. Not just an extra mouth to feed, but two.”

      His muscles hardened. His words, when they flowed out of his mouth, felt like dry chips of wood. “You didn’t trust me.”

CHAPTER NINE

      The pain on Mic’s face seeped into Lily’s soul. She’d known it would hurt him if she admitted the truth, but tonight she saw it was unfair to make him live with a lie that also hurt him.

      “I’m sorry.”

      He straightened to his full six-foot-four height. “It’s fine.”

      But it wasn’t fine. She could see it on his face.

      “Why don’t you go home for the night? I’ll clean up after this customer.”

      “No. I’ll stay. It’s my job.”

      “No.” His eyes met hers. “It is my job. And I do my jobs. I always do my jobs.”

      Tears flooded her eyes at the humiliation in his voice. “Please, Mic. That’s exactly my point. You would have taken your responsibilities seriously. And you would have lost your dream.”

      “So you felt it was better to take the decision out of my hands?”

      His righteous indignation finally got the better of her. “Oh, please. You were in the situation every bit as much as I was. You knew I was responsible for my sister. You knew I was still grieving my parents’ deaths. You knew I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, yet when I said no to your proposal you never argued. I said, ‘I don’t love you’, and you left. You never asked why. You didn’t remember my passion for you. You didn’t think that maybe my troubles might have put me in a bad emotional state. You simply got hurt and left.”

      He gaped at her. “You’re pinning this on me?”

      She rose from her bar stool. Her chin lifted. “Maybe I am.”

      “Well, that’s convenient.”

      “Maybe.” A horrible chill enveloped her. The memory of how he’d left raced through her brain. The feeling of abandonment. The knowledge that he hadn’t thought enough of her to even question what she’d said. The memory of the sweeping fear when she realized she was alone and responsible for her ten-year-old sister. “Think back, Mic. You never fought for me. You never fought for what we had.”

      “You