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That's the fucking truth.

The moment we step onto the terrace, Bridget stops.

Nico and Elise helped me arrange tonight with the estate where they held their wedding. The gardens are quiet, the ballroom is empty, and the same stone railing overlooks the glittering lights of Los Angeles.

Exactly where I kissed Bridget Collins for the first time.

She turns toward me, her expression softening.

"Enzo?"

"Recognize it?"

"Of course I do." She looks around, smiling. "This is where you kissed me at Elise's wedding."

"Best decision I ever made."

"I thought volunteering to replace Derek was your best decision."

"That was the second-best. I was going to find an excuse to talk to you regardless."

She laughs. "You were awfully confident for a man who didn't know whether I was interested."

"I knew what I wanted."

"You always do."

"Not always." I take her hand and lead her toward the railing. "I spent years thinking I knew exactly what my life was supposed to look like. Then you walked into it, started making jokes about serial killers and cat litter, and ruined every damn plan I had."

"You're welcome."

I smile and reach into my jacket.

Bridget eyes the envelope I remove. "What's that?"

"Proof."

"Of what?"

"That I'm officially, legally, completely unmarried."

I hand her a certified copy of my finalized divorce judgment.

She stares at it before bursting out laughing.

"Oh, my God. You're giving me divorce papers on a date?"

"I thought you'd appreciate the reassurance."

"That's the most romantic thing you've ever done, Lorenzo Moretti."

"Not quite."

I take the divorce judgment from her, tuck it back into the envelope, and place it on the railing. Then I reach into my other pocket and lower myself onto one knee.

Her laughter stops.

"Enzo?"