Life had settled into a rhythm. Predictable. Safe. Lonely.
And then Beth invited me to her engagement party.
"You have to come," she insisted. "You're my only friend who doesn't live within the town gossip network."
So I went.
The party was at a local bar, filled with people I vaguely recognized from around town. Music, laughter, warmth.
I was nursing my second drink when I saw him.
Not Dante. Someone who looked enough like him to make my heart stop.
Tall, dark hair, similar build. For one impossible second, I thought—
But no. It wasn't him. Just a stranger who happened to trigger every longing I'd been suppressing.
"Sarah!" Beth appeared at my elbow. "This is my fiancé's brother, James. James, this is my friend Sarah."
James smiled. Extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Sarah. Beth's told me a lot about you."
"All lies," I said automatically, shaking his hand.
He laughed. Had a nice laugh. Kind eyes. Was objectively attractive in a non-threatening way.
And I felt absolutely nothing.
---
James asked me out two days later.
I said no.
He asked again a week after that.
I said no again.
"You know he's a good guy, right?" Beth said, cornering me in the library. "Stable job, nice family, actually reads books. When's the last time you went on a date?"
Three years ago. With a mafia boss in his study after I'd served his breakfast. Not exactly dinner-and-a-movie material.
"I'm not interested in dating right now."
"You're not interested in dating ever. Come on, Sarah. One dinner. What's the harm?"
The harm was that it felt like betraying Dante. Even though we weren't together. Even though he was in prison and I was in witness protection and we had no future.
It still felt wrong.
But Beth was persistent. And I was tired. And maybe—just maybe—I needed to at least try to move forward.
So I said yes.
---
The date was fine. James was nice. We talked about books and movies and completely mundane things that didn't involve murder or criminal enterprises.
It was the most normal evening I'd had in years.
And I hated every minute of it.
Because he wasn't Dante. Didn't make my pulse race. Didn't understand the darkness in me. Didn't look at me like I was both his salvation and his destruction.
"You're not over him," James said at the end of the night. "Whoever he is."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have agreed to this."
"It's okay." He smiled sadly. "Must have been one hell of a guy to have that kind of hold on you."
"He was. He is."
"Will you see him again?"
"In two years. Maybe."
"That's a long time to wait for a maybe."
"I know."
But I'd wait anyway. Because some loves don't fade just because they're inconvenient.
---
I told Dante about the date in my next letter. Felt like I had to.
**My letter:**
*Dante,*
*I went on a date. His name was James. He was nice and normal and completely wrong.*
*I spent the entire evening comparing him to you. It wasn't fair to him, but I couldn't help it.*
*You asked me to live. To be happy. To not wait for you.*
*I tried. I really did.*
*But I can't imagine being with anyone else. Can't imagine hands that aren't yours, a voice that isn't yours, a future that doesn't include you.*
*Is that pathetic? Am I just holding onto something that can never work?*
*Sometimes I think I should let you go. For both our sakes. You'd be free to rebuild your life without the woman who killed your parents hanging around. I'd be free to find someone uncomplicated.*
*But then I remember the way you looked at me in your study. The way you held me at night. The way you forgave me even when you shouldn't have.*
*And I know I'll never love anyone else.*
*Two years. We're almost there.*
*Love,
E*
---
**Dante's response (took three weeks to arrive):**
*Elena,*
*Don't you dare let me go.*
*I don't care if you went on a hundred dates. I don't care if you tried to move on. I get it. You're trying to live like I asked.*
*But here's the truth: I don't want you to move on. I want you to wait for me, as selfish as that is.*
*Because I'm waiting for you. Every single day. Every single night. You're the only thing keeping me sane in here.*
*When I get out—and I will get out—I'm coming to find you. And we're going to build that normal life you talked about. The apartment, the dog, the boring grocery shopping conversations.*
*I don't care about the past. Don't care that you killed my parents or that I'm a convicted felon or that we met in the worst possible circumstances.*
*All I care about is you.*
*Two years. And then I'm yours forever.*
*Wait for me, Elena. Please.*
*Love always,
D*
---
I cried reading that letter.
Then I wrote back immediately:
*I'm waiting. Always.*