Epilogue
CHANTEL
“Hey.”
Cristian turns at the sound of my voice, warmth flickering in his gaze as it sweeps up my bare legs to the shirt I stole from him last night. I don’t feel remotely sexy right now, but I’ve come to realize it doesn’t matter how much of a hot mess I am because he loves every version of me.
I could have zero makeup on, a rat’s nest for hair, or baby spit-up all over my shirt, and he still wants me just the same.
Even at the end of my pregnancy, when everything was puffy and I was cranky, he’d tell me how beautiful I was.
He never took for granted what my body was going through growing an entire human.
Every day, he spoiled me with massages, made sure I had drinks and snacks, and washed my hair for me when I was exhausted. He arranged spa days for me and the girls, made my dream nursery a reality, and shouldered every burden so I was never stressed.
Long before the baby arrived, he’d tell me what a good mother I was already, and he’d never leave the house without kissing me and our bump goodbye.
I didn’t think it was possible for me to love him any more than I already did, but he proves me wrong every time I see him with our little girl.
He’s so gentle and attentive to her, I get emotional watching them together.
At night, when she wakes, he tells me to rest while he takes care of her. But sometimes, I sneak out of bed anyway just to observe as he rocks her in front of the window and tells her about all the stars in the sky.
We named her Thalia Rose Vitale—a nod to both our mothers—though Cristian commonly refers to her as la nostra piccola stella. Our little star.
It didn’t take long after her arrival for us to carry on the Vitale tradition with a symbolic name.
Much like her father, she’s constantly watching her surroundings, her eyes bright and curious about the world around her. She’s incredibly vocal, always making happy little noises, and she melts all of her uncles’ hearts with her easy smiles and affectionate nature.
They’ve deemed her small with a mighty heart, and a natural songbird who loves lullabies.
For all these reasons, it was easy for us to decide that she is la passerotta, the little sparrow.
It’s a theme we incorporated into the nursery after her arrival, in addition to the things we’d already added. While it may not be traditional, it only seemed fitting that we’d give her a galaxy of stars, since we knew she’d be our entire universe.
So we painted the walls midnight blue and hired an artist to create a mural of the night sky with soft nebulae, silver-leafed constellations, and tiny phosphorescent stars all over the walls and ceiling.
In the daylight, it looks like a watercolor dream of blue, pink, and silver.
And after dark, it emits a soft, ethereal glow that feels nothing less than magical.
My favorite detail is the raven perched on a crescent moon—a sign that fate will always be there to guide her way, just as it brought us together.
I want my daughter to inherit my strengths, but not my trauma, and I only want her to feel surrounded by love and light.
This room is a representation of that. The safety and peace her father provides.
The legacy of family—from my mother’s music box to the thoughtfully chosen gifts from all our closest people.
It’s the promise of a beautiful life, and a new beginning for all of us. Cristian sees that hope in my eyes, and sometimes he still has to remind me it’s real, but it grows every day as another part of me heals.
For the first time in my life, I feel whole in a way I never thought I could.
I can come home without checking for monsters around every corner, secure in the knowledge that I’m finally safe. And while some of the worst-case scenarios will never go away, particularly now that we have a child of our own to protect, they don’t rule my life like they once did.
Our world is the same as it’s always been. Chaotic, unpredictable, and dangerous at times. But Cristian is my anchor, and my trust in him is absolute.
Our family is everything to me, and while our path to get here may have been messy, I know our love will always endure.
I watch him as he lays a now-sleeping Thalia back in her crib, and when I join him, he wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses the top of my head.
“Good morning, gattina.”
“Good morning.” I lean into him with a happy little sigh as I study our daughter’s face. “Did you ever think we could create something so perfect?”
“Yes,” he answers without question. “Because she looks just like you.”
I turn in his arms, melting as he picks me up and carries me back to our room. It isn’t long before I feel his erection pressing against my belly as his hands start to wander.
“Sore?” he murmurs the words against my lips, reminding me of all the filthy things he did to me last night.
While he might treat me like a princess most of the time—I still love it when he doesn’t. And last night, he was far from a gentleman when I brought him a drink in his office, and he bent me over the desk and fucked me hard.
It took a while for us to get back to our usual routine, but now that we have, I can’t stop craving those stolen moments with him.
“We have guests coming in a couple hours.” I slip my hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants and stroke his cock.
He winds my hair around his fist and angles my head back as he pushes his fingers between my thighs.
“No underwear, Mrs. Vitale?”
I bite my lip and smile. “Are you complaining?”
“Someone woke up and decided to be a brat this morning.” Amusement flashes in his eyes.
“Mmmhmm. And your point is?”
“You know what happens when you get mouthy.”
“Not really.” I shrug. “Must not have been that memorable.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to remind you.”
He flips me over on the bed, smacks me on the ass, and reminds me thoroughly—fucking me until I can no longer form a coherent sentence.
We collapse in the aftermath, and my head lolls to the side as my gaze wanders over his handsome face.
I love him when he’s like this. But I also love him when he takes care of me, or when he slows things down and spends hours reminding me who I belong to.
I just…love him.
When my brain finally comes back online, I tell him so, and he kisses me while he hauls me into the shower.
He takes his time with me in there, until eventually, we hear the baby starting to wake on the monitor.
Cristian leaves me to get ready while he dresses Thalia in the outfit I picked for the day. It’s the fourth of July weekend, otherwise known as Rafe-the-Pyro’s favorite holiday, and we’re having a barbecue before he puts on a fireworks show.
When we emerge from our wing and join the family in the courtyard, all our guests have already arrived. It’s a strange mishmash that I never would have expected a year ago, but I couldn’t be happier that these parts of my life have collided.
Jackson and Kenzie are both here, along with Andreas—who, oddly enough, has formed a quiet bromance with Cristian.
Neither of them will ever admit it, but they have such similar personalities, and they found common ground as they spent more time together.
I think Cristian also developed a sense of gratitude toward him once he learned that Andreas saved me from Damian.
Now, I often find them talking over whiskey and Andreas’s budding interest in astronomy.
Kenzie and I share a secret smile whenever we see them together, and they’ve been here more frequently now that she’s pregnant. Andreas helped Cristian assemble the furniture in the nursery, and I suspect it was in preparation for his own plans of fatherhood, but I’m just happy it all worked out.
Jackson, of course, is still Jackson, always a little extra, and we love him for it.
Once it was safe to go back to the city, Cristian and I did pay a visit to Black Velvet so I could give the other dancers a proper goodbye.
It was emotional closing that chapter of my life, but I have no regrets, because I love this chapter the most.
Before Thalia was born, Cristian came home one day, handed me a set of keys, and told me they were for my new dance studio in the city, whenever I was ready.
My priority right now is Thalia, but in my downtime, I’ve been planning for the spring opening.
I want to do pre and postnatal classes to help women prepare for birth and recover in an environment that connects them with other mothers.
I also have plans for a mommy and me jazz class, and of course, burlesque.
I’m looking forward to it, but for now, I’m also content to enjoy this transitional time in my life. Because it’s the moments like today that matter the most, when we’re surrounded by all the people we love.
Naturally, as soon as we step onto the patio, Rafe steals Thalia.
A minute later, Nella wriggles out of Angelo’s arms to come greet her Uncle Cristian and Auntie Tantel, as she calls me now.
There’s no shortage of love to go around as we take a seat at the table, and the babies make the rounds between everyone.
Michele mans the grill while Nonna directs him, and loud, chaotic chatter fills the patio as it usually does.
Lucia’s gaze lands on my cropped T-shirt, the words Good Girl emblazoned across the front, and she arches a brow. “Are you, really?”
“Not this morning, she wasn’t,” Cristian answers dryly.
Lucia laughs, and Jackson smirks.
“I’m sure he made sure to correct that real quick.”
“He always does,” I muse.
“If Tiffany could see you now, she’d keel over dead,” Jackson says.
“Let’s not pretend you didn’t tell her all about it so you could collect the money she owed you for the bet.”
“Oh, I did,” he huffs. “She still hasn’t paid up.”
“Not a surprise,” Kenzie chimes in.
Abella passes Thalia along, and she ends up in Kenzie’s arms next.
Her gaze softens as she observes our daughter, and I know she’ll be an amazing mother. Of course, Andreas can’t stop staring at his wife, and God help anyone who ever upsets her or his child.
“You’re never going to guess who’s here,” Angelo grumbles as he returns to the table and glances at Mariella.
“Seriously?” She rolls her eyes.
A second later, Ares appears, looking weirdly out of place here, yet still perfectly at ease with himself.
“So sorry to interrupt.” He raises a brow at Mariella. “I didn’t realize there was a party, and I wasn’t invited.”
“Why do I get the impression you aren’t sorry at all?” Abella snorts.
“Because he’s not,” Mariella answers.
“Yes, well—” His gaze rakes over her shorts and tank top. “I’m in need of your services.”
“You do realize this is what phones are for,” she says. “They have this magical new feature called texting. It doesn’t even require you to come all the way over here just to communicate your nonexistent needs.”
“I wouldn’t say nonexistent.” He pulls back his suit jacket to reveal a bloody red stain on his white dress shirt.
“Jesus.” She stands up and glares at him. “Did you get yourself stabbed again just so I would have to touch you?”
“Please, Mariella,” he drawls. “That would be…insane.”
“Come on.” She sighs. “Let’s go see what you’ve done this time.”
They disappear into the house, and we all look at each other before everyone laughs and shakes their head.
“It will be a miracle if she doesn’t kill him before all these new wounds do,” Gabi says.
“Either that, or they’ll find a way to get that fiery tension out of their systems,” Val remarks.
I smile as Abella and I share a look.
Our lives—and the men in them—are without a doubt unhinged. But when I glance over at my husband, I know I wouldn’t have it any other way.
He might be a little murder-y and crazy protective, but he’s perfect.
And he’s all mine.
THE END.