Epilogue
About three years later
GIANNA
The sun is starting to set over the ocean in the distance, the first hints of gold in the sky promising a majestic display. Not as majestic as the sight of my whole family and Matteo’s whole family gathered in the garden, laughing, eating, drinking, talking, being happy.
I had to take a step back, look at it from a distance, set it into memory like a photograph, one that will need no frame because it will forever hang in my mind, never fading. I have so many such photographs already hanging up.
My sisters and I, happy and smiling, gossiping like in the old days. One with my mom and dad, both tanned, both smiling at their little baby grandson, Antonio Ricardo Codelli Rovina named for my brother and Matteo’s. We call him Ricco, he omits the R himself, but he’ll grow into it.
My sister Chiara feeding her husband Angelo a spoonful of chocolate cake topped with so much whipped cream he had no hope of swallowing it whole.
That one is from earlier today. As is the one of my sister Lidia and Rafaelle, kissing behind the magnolia tree, thinking they’re well-hidden and that no one knows they’re together.
Everyone knows. But even my dad and my mom are letting them tell us the news in their own time.
Then there’s the image of Matteo’s sister Isabella inking the most gorgeous golden rose I’ve ever seen onto his chest. Along with my name.
And the name of our first-born son. And all the important dates of our happy moments.
And more pretty pictures to cover all the symbols of death on his body.
Three years of good memories to wipe away the bad. With so many more to come.
That is my prayer every night before I go to sleep and my life every morning when I wake up.
We all gathered today to celebrate our son’s third birthday.
Chiara and Angelo, the husband she very clearly does not hate anymore, came all the way from New York.
They’re expecting twins in a few months, which is why they drove rather than fly here, doing so in a luxury camper van that’s like a palace on wheels.
Isabella and Blade are here too, along with their baby daughter Vivian—named after Matteo and Isabella’s mom. Vivi can barely walk, but insists on running around after Ricco all the time anyway.
Then there’s Lidia and Rafaelle trying to pretend they’re not madly deeply in love.
I hope they stop soon so we can all celebrate it with them.
And Matteo’s cousin Nico and Bianca, the Sarge of Rogue Angels MC.
She looks as gorgeous in her light summer garden party dress as she looks badass in her biker outfit.
And Nico looks happier than I’ve ever seen him.
They’re like brothers, Matteo and him, and he’s been invaluable in helping Matteo rebuild the Rovina family empire here in LA.
Not just rebuild… make it better than it was before, according to Nico and everyone other than Matteo, who is too modest about all he has achieved as far as I’m concerned.
Caputo, who is no longer Ferro’s, but Matteo’s right-hand man is here as well.
But he’s still as serious as ever, and even though he’s talking and smiling at all the right times, he barely ever laughs, and I think he’s only here to keep an eye on Matteo.
He’s very protective of him and has saved his life three times in the last three years, even taking a bullet for him once.
I will never stop thanking him for that.
And he will always be welcome in my home and at my table.
Even if he never looks like he’s having any fun.
Maria has baked the most amazing looking cake for Ricco—a huge mac truck made of chocolate and cream, because chocolate and mac trucks are Ricco’s favorite.
She spoils us like that every day, and she is more grandmother to Ricco than just a housekeeper.
I’m naming my daughter after her, she just doesn’t know it yet.
“What are you doing here all alone?” Matteo asks as he hugs me from behind, resting his hands over my belly. Our second child, a girl this time, is due in a few weeks.
“I’m just making sure I remember this day for as long as I live,” I tell him as I lean back against his strong chest and let him support me.
“You and me both,” he says and kisses the top of my head.
“Mommy, mommy, mommy, here, here,” Ricco is shouting as he runs towards me, my mom barely keeping pace with him.
He hands me a daisy. “For you, Mommy. I picked this for you.”
“Oh, thank you, baby,” I tell him, bending down as well as I can to take it from him. “What did I do to deserve this?”
He kisses my hand as I take the flower from him. “Because I love you.”
And then he’s off again, my mom smiling at us right before she takes off after him to make sure he doesn’t fall.
“Now I think that might be even prettier than the flowers I got you this morning,” Matteo says as I lean back against him, twirling the daisy in my fingers.
“You mean the bouquet of a hundred roses?” I ask, smiling up at him. “But don’t ask me to choose between my two favorite guys in the whole wide world.”
He smiles too. “A hundred roses are no less than the mother of my children deserves. And as long as you choose me too, I won’t ask for anything else.”
I twist in his arms, look deeply into his eyes, enjoying the sunshine of his gaze caressing my cheeks. “I will always choose you.”
He smiles. “I love you so much, Goldie.”
“Not as much as I love you, father of my children.”
We’re still not married, just in case, so I can’t call him husband. But he will always have my soul and all my love. Just as I know I will always have all of his.
He kisses me and confirms that with no words needed. It’s a kiss at once deep and soft, gentle, and full of passion. As every kiss we share, it binds us together just a little bit more, expands our love, makes our world just a little brighter.
I have so many memories of our kisses etched into my memory, hanging like gleaming photographs in my mind. Kisses and everything else that we’ve done together. But there’s always room for one more. There will always be room for one more. Until we’re old and grey. Until the end of time.
* * *
THE END
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