“Did you ever think you’d fail when you first started La Dolce Famiglia?” he asked, settling back into the pine chair.
Mama Conte smiled and sat next to him. “Of course. But I had a partner at my side, and knew if I failed, at least I tried. There is no shame in dreams or hard work or failure. Only not trying.”
He nibbled on a cookie. “Like Sawyer’s dreams for Purity.”
“Sì. And the way Michael began his own dream with La Dolce Maggie. He wanted to be a race car driver when he was younger.”
“No way.” He couldn’t imagine Michael as a young, brash race car driver. The tall, elegant Italian man ruled with a booming voice and incredible charm, and was one of the sharpest businessmen in the country. “I can’t picture it.”
“Ah, it was hard to give that part of himself up. When my husband passed, Michael took it upon himself to run the business and never looked back. I am sure he had regrets, but his path has led him to Maggie and a new life. We never realize at the moment what our futures hold. Sometimes we must go on a leap of faith.”
He sifted through her words, his brain clutching the theory like a Bible to the heart. How wonderful to think each moment, good and bad, has purpose. He never really thought of his life like that before. And after losing Genevieve, there was a gaping hole he couldn’t fill, a haunting emptiness that no food or water could ever satisfy.
“Do you remember what I told you that Sunday years ago? When you first visited me?”
Wolfe blinked. The afternoon of their initial meeting was carved in his brain as one of the turning points in his life. He’d dined with Sawyer and Julietta, and she’d asked to speak with him in private for a few moments after dessert. “Yes, of course. You said I was always welcome in your home, that I was part of your family. You said I had worth, and one day I’d see it.”
She smiled faintly. “Good. Do you remember the last thing I said?”
He played back the conversation in his memory. “You said I was searching for something, and that one day I’d find it. But I’d need to be brave enough to think I deserved it.”
“Yes, my sweet boy. I’ve watched you grow up into a man I’m proud of. You’ve become a son to Julietta and Sawyer, and a grandson to me. You are the heart and soul of Purity, and you have a wisdom and gentleness that humbles me. The last time you visited, I knew you’d changed. I didn’t know who it would be, but once I met Genevieve, everything made sense.”
He shifted in his chair while his defenses rose. “Gen and I are friends.” The words stuck in his throat and the lie burned his tongue.
She threw her head back and cackled. “Started as friends, yes. But you are soul mates. Meant to balance each other.”
“Mama Conte, I don’t want to talk about this right now. It’s not going to work between us. It’s for the best.”
She kept talking as if he wasn’t even there. “If only there was a way I could make you marry each other. But alas, it won’t work this time.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Have you figured out what you’re searching for?”
The change of topic was hurting his head. “Nothing. I have everything I want.” Another lie.
“Wolfe Wells. This is important. Don’t be flip—tell me the truth.”
The demand came like a whiplash. He stared at the elderly woman gazing at him with eyes of steel, and the answer surged from within, poised on his lips, and spilled from his very soul. “Beautiful. I’m searching for something beautiful out there.” The emotions snuck from under the wall, took root, and began to bloom. He was used to chopping off the flowers with the weeds, but this time, he stopped himself.
Her smile was pure joy and comfort and goodness. She reached out, wrapped strong fingers around his wrists, and lifted them up. “Yes. And you have finally found it, my sweet boy. It’s love. Genevieve is your answer, but sometimes the hardest, bravest thing in the world is to let someone love you.” She slowly slipped off the wrist guards, releasing his scarred skin to the light. “Allow yourself to be happy. This boy who tried to take his life, the one with all the hurt and loss, is part of you. But he does not have to take over. Not anymore. You must go to her and give her the truth. Do you understand?”
Wolfe stared. Her voice echoed to a place inside his soul, back to the dirty bedroom where the men had used him and he’d tried to escape. But then another image took hold, one of Gen’s face, open and laughing, her eyes full of love as she kissed him, held him, and showed him something that was possible.
Something beautiful.
An odd stinging hurt his eyes. “What if I fail?”
She squeezed harder and stroked his cheek with tenderness. “It doesn’t matter. When you try, you win.”
He began to shake. When he was little, and he desperately craved someone to hug him, tell him it was okay, soothe the tears away, there was no one. But right now, in Mama Conte’s kitchen, he felt safe.
He felt loved.
She took him into her arms and held him tight.
“I NEED A PLAN.”
Nate remained quiet as he set up his shot on the golf course. The air hung thick and heavy for the October afternoon, and a slight dampness still clung to the grass from the morning drizzle. It hadn’t stopped either of them from their normal Wednesday morning golf game. Wolfe’s swing was clean, with a perfect arc and trajectory. “Nice, dude.”
“Thanks. Good to know I haven’t lost my edge. You canceled twice this past month. Losing interest in me? Or is jetting off to Italy on a whim more important than the game of champions?”