“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
He blinks, a single tear trickling down his cheek that he quickly wipes away. Then he takes my hand and slides the ring onto my finger. It fits like a dream, like it was always meant to be there.
He pulls me into a kiss. The sky is a brilliant orange as Amanda’s jet takes off, the sound of the engine fading until it’s gone.
“I love you,” he says.
“Right back at you,” I reply with a wink.
EPILOGUE I
Thea
December…
Lev Gabriel Moretti is only eleven days old, and already he has his father wrapped around his tiny, adorable finger.
I watch him from the bed, propped up on a thousand pillows—Gabriel’s idea. He’s always looking for something to do, some way to help. And for some reason, his default move is always to bring me another pillow.
“Alright,” he says, Lev on the changing table in front of him. “A little wipe, then the diaper goeson.”
He’s done this every morning since we got home from the hospital. He gets up before dawn, checks on Lev and me, then does the first diaper change of the day with the sort of focus and precision that you’d expect from someone diffusing a bomb.
He doesn’t know I’m awake. And that’s fine; I love watching him.
Diaper changed, he gently places Lev against his shoulder and makes his way over to the window. This is the other part of the morning routine—he looks out over the backyard, speaking with his little boy. Sometimes it’s in Italian, sometimes English.
But it’s always loving.
“You’re going to spoil him,” I say sleepily. “All this attention.”
He glances over his shoulder, gently patting Lev on his tiny back.
“One of my philosophies of parenting so far is that you can’t go overboard with love.”
My heart tingles, and I can’t help but smile.
“I like that. You should write a book.”
“A mafia don’s guide to parenting,” he says with a chuckle. “Might be good. Or incriminating.”
I watch Lev, his eyelids drooping until he’s back asleep. Gabriel strokes his back with his huge hand, and once again, I’m struck by just how gentle he is with this tiny, perfect little human.
“He’s out,” I say.
Gabriel nods, making his way slowly over to the bassinet where he sets Lev down like he’s made of glass. Gabriel’s eyes don’t leave our son. He watches him with wonder, like he always does.
I step over to the bassinet, resting my head on Gabriel’s shoulder as I look down at our boy.
He’s perfect.
The doorbell rings at noon, and I know just who it is. I hurry to the balcony and look out over the entrance just in time to see Oscar approach the big front doors and open them. The hallway is adorned with garland and lights for the Christmas season.
“Miss Liza,” he says. “Welcome back. May I take your coat?”
“Oh, that’s okay, Oscar. I can put it away myself.”
“Nonsense. Please.”