This can't be happening. Not here, not like this. This is too soon. This is too crazy.
"Dante..." I whisper. I can't make this decision with all of these people watching.
"I shredded that script," he murmurs against the backs of my fingers. "I told them to find someone else to rewrite it."
"You didn't have to - "
"I did. And I'd do it again."
Panic is rising in my chest. "Dante, if we could go somewhere a little more private..."
He brushes his lips against my knuckles. "I'll follow you anywhere you wish to go."
I pull him to his feet and lead him back through the kitchen, past a wide-eyed Mama Pat and straight into the walk-in cooler. I have no idea what I'm going to say or do. But the moment the door is shut behind us, I find myself sinking against his chest.
His arms come up around me - one around my waist, the other around my upper back, squeezing me to him as if he never intends to let me go. I press my face against his shirt.
"I'm scared," I whisper. "I'm so scared, Dante
