Epilogue
Eight Months Later
Daisy
T oday is a special date.
Exactly one year ago, I was left by a man who didn’t deserve me with nothing more than an “I’m sorry” text message, and I met the one I want to spend the rest of my days with.
And this evening, Lorenzo played at Teatro La Fenice for the first time as part of an opera production. I know how much this means to him, especially because his mom was an opera singer.
Both his grandma and Luigi came to Venice to attend the performance. I was glad to sit with my new Italian family at the theater—and earlier, at my restaurant.
Even though Lorenzo was in the orchestra pit and I couldn’t see him from where I was sitting, I cried the whole time, and not because I was touched by the singers on the stage. I thought of all he— we —went through and thanked the heavens for the magic that somehow chose to strike us a year ago.
I can’t stop admiring his gorgeous figure dressed in a black tuxedo as we walk to my apartment holding hands. Lorenzo’s grandma is staying at the hotel, and he let Luigi borrow the loft for the weekend, so my home is our current love nest.
Now it’s time for the two of us, and I have many ideas for how to celebrate… He catches me giving him a look and smirks, making my heart flip.
“It’s been a year, and it feels like the first day,” I say, referring to my emotions because everything else has changed since we met.
He manages Hotel Marchesi and plays the violin professionally.
I own a restaurant in Venice that is thriving, and we have each other not as distractions from our busy routines, but as essential parts of each other’s lives.
It’s the kind of stable relationship I’ve always wanted—and it’s exciting, fiery, and adventurous at the same time. We are friends and lovers. We go on escapades every day, yet we haven’t run out of things to discover in Venice, and I suspect we never will.
We’re crossing a bridge toward the San Polo sestiere when Jeremy texts me:
Ryan is in Venice, and I think one of your employees gave him your address—he’s going to look for you!
I chuckle.
What, to apologize? Make a grand gesture?
I show the message to Lorenzo, who scowls. “Which employee?”
I shrug. I’m not going to worry about this tonight. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure it was an honest mistake.”
Ryan and Alice broke up a month ago, and I wouldn’t have cared to know, but Jeremy shared the gossip with me. Thankfully, he’s over her, happy in LA with his new girlfriend.
Lorenzo and I arrive at the historical building where I live and climb the stairs to the first floor.
I barely finish taking off my shoes at the door, and Lorenzo pushes me inside until my back is against the wall and his lips are ferociously kissing mine.
I wrap my legs around his waist, and he’s ready to bring me to the bedroom… when the intercom rings.
I ignore it. But it keeps ringing, and as I’m afraid it could be his grandma or Luigi, I take the chance to show him something exciting I discovered recently.
Lorenzo groans when I interrupt the kiss to pull him out of the apartment. But as soon as I’m kneeling on the floor of the antechamber by the stairs, right above the entrance on the ground floor, he’s intrigued.
“What on earth are you doing?” He kneels by my side, and once I’ve removed the square piece in the center of one of the marble tiles, revealing a peephole, he grins. “A spy hole? There’s one in Casino Venier too.”
I roll my eyes at his smug smile. There’s never a secret he doesn’t know.
I lie belly-down on the floor and spy through the peephole, trying to get a glimpse of the person at the door. All I see is the top of a familiar head. “Oh, no…”
Lorenzo gently pushes me aside to see who it is. “Ryan?” I nod, and he scoffs. “Is he really that clueless?”
I look at Lorenzo, laughing at the ridiculous situation—the two of us lying side by side in the ancient foyer in front of my apartment, peering through a secret hole in the floor while the douchebag I used to date rings the bell like a child with no limits. “You’ll get your tuxedo dirty.”
He gives me a sideways smirk. “I don’t care. I plan on being naked with you in a bit.”
I giggle, and we put our faces together to peer at the floor below again. Ryan is still standing there. A sudden craving for a mischievous revenge brings a grin to my lips. “What if we throw water at him?”
Lorenzo doesn’t laugh, just looks at me with admiration. I gaze back, and there’s something oddly intense in his expression that makes me frown a little. “What?”
“Nothing, I just… Never mind. It can wait.”
I look down again. “A nasty insect would be even better…”
“Marry me, Daisy.”
“What?” I turn to Lorenzo, astonished.
“Sorry, this could be more romantic.” He rubs his shaved chin, unusually shy. “Fuck, I don’t even have the ring here. Let’s do it another time.”
I grin from ear to ear, my heart hammering against my rib cage. “No! I mean, yes , I want to marry you!”
I kiss him so hard I roll on top of him. Then we burst into laughter when we realize my seventy-year-old neighbor could open the door and see us making out on the floor.
Lorenzo kisses me again, his erection pressing my front, and I devour his lips because when have we cared? God , it’s what I love about us.
“I have a few nonnegotiables, though,” I say against his lips, hoisting myself up on my elbows, my hair cascading around his face. “We’ll marry in Ca’ Zanetti, and we’ll waltz wearing the masks we used that day. And Luigi will walk me down the aisle together with my brother, one on each arm.”
He smiles after savoring and biting my bottom lip. “Sounds like a dream.”
“Oh, and you’ll be the one playing as I walk toward you—Vivaldi, of course. And I’ll move to your loft.” Imagine waking up at Hotel Marchesi every single day with that view, by Lorenzo’s side?
“If I knew how prepared you were, I would have asked before. The day I met you, probably.”
I laugh. If he knew how many times I’ve dreamed about our wedding…
“What about the honeymoon?” he asks. “Can it be that trip around Italy on the back of a Vespa that I promised you?”
My heart sings as I crack a new smile. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”
Ryan rings the bell again, and we roll our eyes and stop kissing to deal with it.
“Spit?” I suggest.
“No, I have a better idea.” He pulls me to my feet, and we climb down the stairs.
Lorenzo’s confident pose once he opens the door leaves Ryan more than a little intimidated. “Looking for my fiancée? I’m sorry.”
He then slams the door shut in my ex’s face, and I jump to kiss my future husband, eager to go back upstairs and start the rest of our lives.
* * * * *