Chapter 42
42
GIANNA
I take a deep breath and thank the driver as I ease my swollen body out of the cab, one protective hand cradling my belly. The twins shift restlessly inside me, as if sensing the gravity of this moment, this choice. My eyes flick to the invitation in my hand, making sure I’m at the right place.
The address is correct, but I hesitate, glancing around.
The venue before me is breathtaking—an enormous, stunning garden—but it’s also eerily quiet.
I’m not second-guessing myself. I love Michael, and I’m ready to marry him again—properly this time. But this quiet… it makes me nervous.
A woman walks up to me with a warm smile. “Mrs. Hart? We’re waiting for you inside.”
My stomach clenches. How did she recognize me?
The question flashes through my mind even as I know the answer—Michael would have made sure everyone involved could identify his precious runaway wife.
I swallow down my nerves and follow her inside. She leads me past rows of beautiful flowers towards a big, arched glass building, its windows blacked out to conceal whatever waits within.
The woman stops at the double doors and gestures. “You may go in, ma’am.”
I murmur a soft thank you and push the door open, stepping inside into… another world entirely—and I’m instantly mind-blown.
The glass ceiling must have a wallpaper or some kind of fancy tech-y illusion because instead of showing the bright day outside, it displays the infinite expanse of a midnight sky, complete with soft, twinkling stars.
Beneath this fabricated cosmos are huge, sparkling tree canopies crafted from bright flowers intertwined with cheerful lights. The isle stretches before me adorned with more of the lights, framed by stunning floral archways and lush greenery.
The soft, romantic lighting and elegant florals weave together to create an atmosphere so enchanting it feels like a dream.
If I ever allowed myself to imagine a magical wedding—which I never did, having learned early that dreams were dangerous luxuries—this would surpass even those forbidden fantasies.
It’s breathtaking. It’s perfect.
And it’s empty—except for Michael standing at the end of the aisle.
“You made it,” he says, sounding a little surprised, as if he’d prepared himself for disappointment, for me to reject this gesture. He stretches his hand out towards me.
I glance around the surreal venue in awe as I walk towards him. “Where is everyone?”
“You think I wouldn’t give you time to properly prepare?” His smile lights his face when I slip my hand into his. “Everything has to be perfect for you. The wedding is actually in three hours. I have a tailor and a seamstress here with the most perfect wedding dresses—all curated with you in mind. But if you don’t care for any of them, we can move the wedding until you have the best dress. That is… if you’ll marry me.”
I squeeze his hand tightly. “Why the hell do you think I’m here?”
“Gianna.” He tugs me into him, his voice thick with emotion. “I promise I won’t make you regret this.”
“You better not, or your kids and I will make you suffer so much, you’ll wish you never married me,” I threaten as I slowly wrap my arms around his neck.
“Never,” he repeats emphatically, lifting my hand to kiss the back gently. “And did I hear you mention kids, as in plural? Does that mean you’ll have more children for me in the future?” A complex swirl of emotions darkens his beautiful blue eyes—hope, desire, vulnerability—as he slowly lowers his head towards mine.
“Maybe,” I murmur against his lips. “But right now, I’m actually carrying two babies.”
He frowns at me, obviously confused. “You’re carrying two babies? Two– twins ?” His eyes go wide, and he stumbles backward, his gaze dropping to my huge belly.
And then he just crumbles to the floor.
“Michael!” It takes me an embarrassingly long time to maneuver my pregnant body down beside him, and I’m panting with exertion as I slap at his chest. He blinks his eyes open. “Did you just faint ?”
He stares at me blankly for a moment, then he grins. “Of course not. I don’t faint .” Before I can argue, he tugs at my hands until I’m unceremoniously sprawled on the floor beside him, his powerful arms enveloping me in a cocoon of warmth and security I’ve missed more than I care to admit. “We’re having twins,” he says dazedly.
The hall’s door opens before I can remind him that he absolutely, undeniably just fainted at my feet and can’t rewrite history that quickly, and a familiar soft voice says, “Are we interrupting?”
I turn to the sound, joy surging through me at the sight of my friend. “Elira!” I exclaim, struggling ineffectually to regain my dignity and vertical position. With a triumphant whoop, Michael jumps up, carrying me up with him.
“We’re having twins!” he announces to the room in general. Behind Elira, Romero drops the drink in his hand, and it shatters to the floor.
“What?!” Elira’s shriek of surprise cuts through the moment of stunned silence, and then the room descends into joyful chaos, every single one of Michael’s brothers circling us and hesitantly placing their hands on my belly in excitement while I field about a million questions.
Then the rest of the guests start arriving, and it’s finally time for the wedding.
I fall in love with the first dress the seamstress shows me—a fairytale ball gown that somehow manages to float around me while perfectly concealing my burgeoning belly and accentuating my figure in all the right places. I couldn’t imagine sealing this new beginning in anything else.
And the wedding itself is enchanting, filled with lots of love and laughter. And best of all, bright hope for the future.