38. Epilogue
Epilogue
Sienna
One year later
I lean against the door frame, allowing my gaze to drift over the enchanting panorama of our small private beach. The day is nothing short of idyllic, with the kind of weather that feels almost too perfect to be real. The sky is a vivid, uninterrupted expanse of blue, punctuated only by a few fluffy, cotton-like clouds that lazily drift by, casting gentle shadows on the golden sand. The ocean itself is a mesmerizing shade of turquoise, its gentle waves lapping rhythmically against the shore, creating a soothing, almost hypnotic soundscape. A soft, balmy breeze whispers through the air, ruffling my hair and carrying with it the unmistakable, invigorating scent of the sea, mixed with the faint aroma of salt and sun-warmed earth.
A huge smile spreads across my lips as I watch the twins splash around in the turquoise water. I thought that months after our move their excitement about living at the beach would have died down, but that didn’t happen. Their shrieks of delight as they engage in a vivid water fight are just as loud and vivid as they were when we first came here. They dart in and out of the waves, their movements a delightful blend of chaos and grace, their faces alight with happiness and wonder.
In my arms, Hanna coos in rhythm with their older siblings. Her tiny fingers clutch at my shirt, and I can feel the gentle rise and fall of her breathing against my chest. My gaze wanders from Maddy and Flynn to the tiny miracle resting her head on my chest.
At this moment, I can’t recall a time when I felt more at peace, more content. It’s as if every worry and stress has melted away, leaving only pure, unadulterated joy.
It’s well past midnight when Fabrizio quietly slips into our bedroom. The room is cloaked in darkness and silence, save for the faint rustling of his clothes as he starts to undress. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” he asks softly as I reach out to turn on the lamp on the nightstand. The room is instantly bathed in a soft, warm, yellow glow, casting gentle shadows that dance across the walls and ceiling.
“Your daughter has inherited your love for midnight snacks,” I reply with a smirk, stretching languidly in bed. “I just got back to bed a few minutes ago.” Our daughter, a lively bundle of energy, often finds the quiet stillness of the night the perfect time to satisfy her little cravings. Tonight was no exception, and I had just returned from indulging her with a bottle.
Fabrizio, a fine specimen of a man and the one I am fortunate enough to call my husband, effortlessly strips down to his boxers with a practiced ease. He slips into bed beside me, his arms wrapping around me in a comforting, warm embrace.
I reach out, trailing a finger along his strong jawline, feeling the roughness of his evening stubble. My fingers glide up his cheek, until they become entangled in the thick, black strands of his hair. Almost instinctively, his mouth finds mine, and he kisses me with a fervor that suggests he’s been away for weeks, not merely an evening. The kiss is intense, filled with a passion that reignites the deep connection we share, even in the quiet moments of the night.
When we finally pull away from each other, breathless and smiling, I ask, “How was your meeting?” His meetings often stretch late into the night, filled with the complexities of business negotiations and family obligations.
“Interesting, to say the least,” he replies with a deep chuckle that rumbles through his chest. “My brother is getting married, apparently.” His voice carries a mix of amusement and disbelief, hinting at the unexpected nature of the news.
“What? Romeo?” I ask, utterly dumbfounded. It’s hard to imagine either of his brothers with a wife and settling down. Romeo, with his carefree spirit and aversion to commitment, seems the least likely to tie the knot.
Fabrizio chuckles again, shaking his head. “No, the other one.” His response leaves me momentarily puzzled.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around his words when, with a tantalizing slowness, Fabrizio begins to move down my body, his touch igniting a trail of fire on my skin. He positions himself between my legs, his eyes never leaving mine, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips.
“I-I don’t understand,” I manage to say.
“You can ask him all about it tomorrow,” he responds, his voice a low, seductive murmur. His smirk deepens, eyes twinkling with mischief and promise. “But right now, I believe I heard someone mentioning a midnight snack.”
As he speaks, the tip of his tongue flicks out, wetting his lips in a deliberate, provocative gesture. My breath hitches as he lowers his head slowly, the anticipation building with every passing second, until he finally disappears between my thighs, leaving me breathless and yearning.