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She laughed softly. “I got that.”
“And you’re saying…”
“Yes, of course.” She laughed, her heart fully at ease, happiness pervasive. This was nothing like with Jack. Every instinct in her body was shouting at her to agree, assuring her that she was accepting the proposal of the man who’d been placed on this very earth just for her.
“Ti amo,” he said as he slid the ring onto her finger and then kissed her, before she could even see it in place.“Ti amo per sempre.”
And she nodded, because she knew, absolutely, that it was the truth.
* * *
She had metthem all before, but this was different.
Now, she wasn’t here at Dante’s side, in a professional capacity, taking notes and keeping her opinion to herself. Instead, she was with Marco. Really with him.
It was the first thing that was mentioned, after they’d walked in. Well, almost the first thing.
“Portia?” That was Rafaelo, greeting them at the door. “You’re here? With Marco?”
Her eyes flew to Marco’s, looking for confidence. She found it in spades when he smiled down at her.
It was Rafaelo’s girlfriend Marcia, American and always confident and loud, who spoke next. “Holy shit. And you’re engaged. Seriously?” She reached out for Portia’s hand, the colour draining from her face as she stared at the monumentally beautiful engagement ring.
“Wow.” That was Rafaelo. “Congrats, man,” he said, not missing a beat. Portia waited for Marcia to say something similar, but the blonde simply stared at the ring, as if frozen to the spot. Portia frowned, but a moment later, she was bundled into a huge bear hug by Rafaelo, held tight against his body and all she could feel was happy. Sublimely happy.
Marcia pulled herself together. “Congratulations,” she said, her smile not reaching her eyes. “That’s great news.”
Portia took it at face value. They’d only met a handful of times. She didn’t really know the woman, couldn’t guess at her reason for the strange reaction. Besides, she had more important things to worry about, like the rest of the evening.
In the end, there was no need for worry.
No need for anything but happiness.
Marco’s family were wonderful—the entire, big extended group, that included his parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and siblings, all gathered together to celebrate Christmas eve in classic Santoro style. With way too much food, lots of laughter and talking, and then, afterpanettoneand coffee, Gianni Santoro took to the piano, playing a selection of carols, and the family sung along. By now, they’d had enough to drink not to worry about small matters such as singing in key, and the noise was almost deafening.
Portia couldn’t stop smiling. Marco kept an arm around her shoulder, holding her close, not because she needed to be by his side, but because it was what he wanted, more than anything in the world.
“So,” Maria, Marco’s mother, joined them later, while the carol singing continued, but more quietly now, as some of the Santoros had gone to bed. “When will you marry?”
Portia smiled at Marco, and before she could answer, he said, “If I had my way, as soon as legally possible.”
Maria’s eyes sparkled. “That doesn’t leave much time to plan a big wedding,” she pointed out.
When Portia had been marrying Jack, she’d planned the wedding for over a year. She thought all the details mattered. From the flowers to the cake to the musicians to the photographer, nothing had escaped her radar. She planned the wedding with the same degree of precision a four-star general might rely on when planning a military strike. She was meticulous and focussed. More focussed on the wedding than the marriage.
With Marco, everything was different. Sitting beside him on Christmas eve, with snow beginning to fall outside the windows, she realized she didn’t care what she wore, nor ate, nor which music was playing or evenwherethey married. She cared only that it was Marco who took her hand in his and promised to love her for the rest of his life.
No detail mattered more than that.
“We don’t need a big wedding,” she said, smiling with the force of a thousand Christmas stars. “We just need each other.”
Maria wiped at her eye and nodded with what Portia thought might have been approval. “Okay. We will make it happen. Portia, you have family?”
Portia nodded but the ache in her belly when she reflected on her small, quiet family didn’t eventuate.
“I have parents,” she said simply. There weren’t even any uncles or aunts, cousins, that she’d need to invite.
“Well, I cannot wait to meet them, to welcome them here.” She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. “You’ll let me know when you’ve made your plans?”
