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But a short while later, he returned, carrying something large at his back.
“I have a Christmas gift for you,” he addressed Portia’s parents.
“Oh,” Stephanie looked embarrassed. Naturally, they had nothing for Marco, as they’d had no idea he’d be joining them. “That’s really not necessary, Marco. The best present you could ever give us is our daughter’s happiness, and we can see how well you’ve done that.”
His eyes flicked to Portia’s and he smiled, a special, private smile that promised her the world. Curious, Portia stayed where she was, wondering what he could possibly have for her parents. Whatever it was, it was big and rectangular. A photograph? Of them?
She frowned.
Marco, though, was an enigma and she truly couldn’t guess.
“Here,” he handed it to Stephanie, then came to sit beside Portia, holding her hand.
They both watched as, frowning, Stephanie carefully removed the tape and unfurled the wrapping paper. And gasped.
“Marco—,”
Her voice shook. All Portia could see from her vantage point was a dark brown backboard. Curious, she stood at the same time as her father, each moving to one side of Stephanie.
And gasping as well.
The painting was clearly one of Stephanie’s father’s works, a well-known Richard Barry, a still-life that Portia had only ever seen on the internet.
“I had it in my private collection,” Marco said, standing then and moving to stand beside Portia. “As soon as I knew of your connection to him, I wanted to return it.”
“But this is—,” Stephanie’s eyes sparkled. “You owned this?”
He nodded.
“Marco loves to collect art,” Portia said, with a mix of pride and wonder, and so much love it almost split her apart. “He has great taste.”
“I’ve always been an admirer of your father’s work. His use of light is remarkable.”
“Yes,” Stephanie nodded, tears running down her cheeks. “Oh, Marco, I don’t know how to thank you. This means so much to me.”
He brushed aside her gratitude. “It’s right that you should have it.” And Portia suspected that from that moment on, Marco would buy any Richard Barry piece he possibly could, no matter the price, in the interest of reuniting the works with the family.
She’d never loved him more.
Finally alone,back in Portia’s flat, because they’d wanted to look at a Christmas tree on Christmas night and hers was the only option, they snuggled up on the sofa and reflected on the last twenty four hours.
It had all gone so much better than she’d imagined.
Portia’s eyes were heavy and her heart over-full, and when she dozed off, it was with a huge smile on her face.
* * *
A week after Christmas,it was New Years Eve, and Portia and Marco brought in the new year together, side by side, just the two of them. And though their wedding was still a month away, on that wintry night, on Marco’s estate, they made a pledge to one another that this was exactly how they planned to spend the start of every single year they were blessed enough to share.
* * *
A little whileafter New Years and Portia’s feet barely touched the ground when she made her way to the office for the first time in what felt like a century. She was so different now to who she’d been then. So different, and so happy.
She slid into the seat behind her desk just a moment before a knock sounded at the door and a delivery guy strode in with a huge bunch of flowers.
She blinked at the roses, her heart in her throat, as she reached out and read the card.
My always and forever, mi amore.
