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“Thank you for coming after me.” I sit up slowly, reaching out for him, looking at the handsome man across from me. It’s hard to believe that not so long ago, I thought I hated him. Now, looking at him, I can’t think of anyone I love more in the world.
“I would do anything to keep you safe, Gia.” Salvatore pushes open the door, helping me out into the sunlight, his arm around my waist. “I always will.”
“I love you,” I whisper, turning towards him, and he tips my chin up, his lips brushing softly against mine. He holds me there, in the warm sun in front of our home, the safety of his arms encircling me as I feel all the fear vanish.
“I love you too, Gia Morelli.” His hand slips into my hair, and he bends down, kissing me more firmly this time. And then, with one swift motion, he sweeps me into his arms, holding me against his chest as I squeak with surprise.
“What are you doing?” I ask, and Salvatore smiles down at me, a hint of mischievous humor in his grin.
“What I should have done a long time ago. Carrying my bride over the threshold of our home.” He raises an eyebrow. “If that’s alright with you, wife?”
“Always,” I promise him, and I mean it.
I never could have seen it coming, but Salvatore is everything I want. Everything I could need.
My lover. My husband. My protector.
Now, and for the rest of our lives.
Epilogue
Gia
Three months later
All day long, I’ve been looking forward to the night Salvatore has planned for us. We had a checkup today for the baby, and the doctor gave me the envelope that would tell us if we were having a boy or a girl. I promised Salvatore we’d find out tonight, when he said he’s taking me out to dinner.
I stand in front of the mirror, touching the soft swell of my stomach, still just beginning to show. I picked the black dress that he gave me for our first dinner out for tonight, and it still fits, although the silk shows the curve of my belly. I don’t mind, and I know Salvatore won’t, either. I have a feeling, if anything, he’ll like it enough that we’ll come home earlier than expected.
I’ve made a full recovery, physically, since the attack at the wedding. The baby was completely fine, and so was I. Emotionally, it’s been more difficult, but Salvatore has been at my side through all of it, soothing me when the bad memories re-emerge and holding me close when I wake up from nightmares. And they’ve been fewer and fewer, recently, all of my anticipation for the future outshining my lingering hurt from the past.
My phone buzzes, telling me the driver will be ready soon. I slip on my onyx and diamond bracelet and earrings, grabbing my clutch, and head downstairs to meet Salvatore.
He’s waiting for me in the foyer, in charcoal suit pants and a dark red button-down, and my heart leaps a little when I see him. His face lights up when he catches sight of me, love and desire in his expression in equal measure, and I feel a flood of happiness as I walk down to meet him.
I feel lucky to have him, lucky that things worked out the way they did, lucky that he loves me, and I love him in return. And I know he feels the same way.
“You have the envelope?” Salvatore asks as we slip into the car, and I tap my clutch.
“Right in here.”
An hour later, the car pulls up in front of our destination, and I can’t help but smile. It’s the restaurant Salvatore took me to for that first dinner—the small, rustic Italian bistro that he owns. He opens the door for me, giving me a hand out, and smiles at the look on my face.
“Our first date as husband and wife wasn’t what I hoped it would be,” he says, his hand on my waist as he leans down to give me a light kiss. “I wanted to recreate it. A second chance.”
“I love it,” I tell him honestly, and he smiles, taking my hand as he leads me inside.
The restaurant is empty except for us, and Salvatore leads me to a table near the kitchen, the same one we sat at that night. He pulls my chair out for me, and then sits opposite, waiting for the server to bring us water and red wine for him, sparkling cider for me before he speaks.
“Do you want to find out now, or wait until the end of the night?”
“Now.” I reach for my clutch. “I don’t think I can wait any longer.”
Salvatore laughs. “Me, either.” He leans forward, moving the plate of olive oil and the basket of bread out of the way. “Put it here, and we can look at the same time.”
I slip the paper free of the envelope, laying it face-down on the table between us. Our hands touch it at the same time, and I look at Salvatore, at the eager anticipation in his face. It feels like a light, loving moment, one that, once upon a time, I could never have imagined having with him.
But that’s how our marriage is, now.
