is over." He left before she could respond, letting the front door slam behind him in frustration. He was a man who got what he wanted. But he couldn't have her—not now, probably not ever—and he didn't know how to just accept that. But he was going to have to figure out a way.
Chapter Eleven
Dante didn’t sleep well, and his rehab session on Thursday was brutally rough. He was tired. He was in a bad mood, and his patience was thin. By noon, his therapists had seen enough and suggested he either call it a day or take a two-hour break before the afternoon session. He'd opted for the break, not wanting to lose any valuable time in his recovery. He just needed to get his head together and remember why he was in Whisper Lake. It wasn't to romance Keira. He just wished he could stop thinking about ways to see her again, even though they'd both agreed to stay apart, not just for the sake of avoiding a photograph, but also because he was still attached to Nikki, and he was just passing through.
When he walked into the inn, he gave Lizzie a nod.
"Dante," she said with a welcoming gaze. "I'm glad you're back. You have a visitor."
His gut tightened. "Who?"
"Nikki Voltari."
"What?" His gaze swept the entry and adjacent living room. "She's here?"
"Yes. She said she was exhausted from her early flight, so I gave her a room. I didn't feel right putting her in your room. She's on the second floor in room six."
He couldn't believe Nikki had come to Whisper Lake.
"Thanks."
He moved up the stairs, feeling a mix of emotions, none of them good. He knocked on Nikki's door. A moment later, she threw it open. She wore a cropped top and wide-legged pants that did little to hide how thin she was. Her straight blonde hair reached halfway down her back, and when she came toward him, he almost choked on the strong scent of her perfume.
"Dante," she squealed, then threw her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. "Are you surprised?"
"I am," he admitted, as she pulled him into the room and shut the door. "I just talked to you last night. You didn't say anything about coming."
"I decided after we spoke. Craig let me use his plane this morning. There's a private airfield about twenty minutes away."
"You didn't have to come."
"I did have to come. I need the press to see us together, so I can reframe the story on my social media pages."
"Reframe the story? What does that mean?"
"Don't worry about it." She sat down on the end of the bed and pulled him down next to her. "It's been so long since I've seen you. You look good."
"Thanks. You look as beautiful as always." He wasn't lying, but he also didn't feel any chemistry anymore. She was too much: too made up, too styled, too perfumed. She was right in front of him, but he felt like he was looking at a photograph.
"The innkeeper insisted on giving me my own room," Nikki added with a roll of her eyes. "But I can move my stuff to your room now that you're here."
"Uh, how long are you planning to stay?"
"I'm not sure. Why?" She sat back, giving him a disgruntled look. "You're not happy to see me, are you?"
"I told you that I'm focused on my rehab. I'm on a break now. I have to be back at the center for an afternoon session."
"Can't you take some time off?"
"No, I can't. You shouldn't have come."
Hurt filled her eyes. "Dante, I'm your girlfriend. Why don't you let me help you?"
He would have felt more touched if he thought she actually wanted to help him, but she had not pressed to be with him at any point since his injury. She'd been happy to wait until he was completely back to normal. She'd never wanted to sit in the hospital with him or even hang out in Denver, where he'd done his initial recovery. It was only because of the story the press had made up that she'd felt compelled to come and see him. She was worried about how she was looking, not how he was feeling.
Maybe he was being too cynical, but he didn't think so. "You can help me by going back to LA," he said. "My whole career is riding on this rehab."
"I understand that, and I want you to get better. I want you to go back