Chapter 42 You’re Everything
You’re Everything
I wish I could be with you. Papa tells me we can't move to join you. I don't understand why. —Iz
Izzy
This is nothing like my first wedding.
No ugly, puffy dress. Just a simple white silk gown that hugs my waist before flaring gently at the ankles. The cowl neck dips low enough to hint at cleavage—sexy, but still modest. The infinity necklace Enzo bought me for Christmas sits perfectly above it.
There are no hundreds of strangers watching. No meaningless small talk or forced smiles. Just Massimo, Giuliana, Noemi, Dante, Carina, and Nate—Tess and Kai on FaceTime, since she’s ready to pop.
It’s simple.
Perfect.
Us.
I know it means everything to Enzo that both his parents are here. They haven’t been in the same room since Massimo stole him away during our teens. It was tense at first, a little awkward, but they’re both managing to stay civil.
I look into the eyes of the only man I’ve ever loved and wonder how I got this lucky. So much has happened. So much pain. And still… I’d go through all of it again—every wound, every heartbreak—just to be here.
To feel this.
To feel his love.
“The bride and groom have prepared their own vows” the vicar states, nodding to me first.
My hands shake at my sides, my heart hammering in my ears.
I take a deep breath.
“Enzo.”
My voice trembles, and he picks up my hands, smiling that soft, encouraging smile that’s always undone me.
“I remember the day I fell in love with you. I was eleven, you were twelve. We were walking home from school, and it started lashing down with rain. I didn’t bring a coat or an umbrella—of course I didn’t—but you did.
And instead of sharing it, you held it over me and walked beside me, getting soaked. ”
I turn to the small group of people gathered. “I don’t know why he didn’t just get under the umbrella with me—there was plenty of room.”
Laughter ripples gently, and when I look back at him, his eyes are twinkling.
“That was the moment I knew. Even then, you’d rather be uncomfortable than see me suffer. I’ve been yours ever since.”
My throat tightens. “Even during the years apart, my heart refused to accept that you were truly gone. There was this hollow ache where you were supposed to be. And then I found you again. Despite everything—despite how messy and impossible it seemed—I’m so grateful the world led me back to you.”
I squeeze his hands.
“I promise to love you—the darkness and the light—for the rest of this life, and every one that comes after.”
The room descends into silence. The vicar nods at Enzo.
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Clears his throat.
His voice is thick, rough around the edges. Broken in the way that only love can do.
“Isolde, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met—and I don’t just mean on the outside. Although…” he lets out a breathy laugh, eyes roaming over me, “look at you. You’re fucking stunning.”
I hate the way my mind immediately draws to the scar now decorating my cheek. Enzo says it doesn’t change how he sees me. But how can that be?
“I used to think your kindness made you too innocent for me. For my world. But I was wrong. So fucking wrong.” His voice drops, quiet but steady now. “Your strength. Your fire. The way you take every hit and rise stronger—that’s what makes you mine. My perfect match.”
He swallows hard, cupping my hands tighter.
“You don’t shy away from me. Not from the mess, not from the darkness I carry. You see it—you see me—and you don’t flinch. Hell, you match it. You challenge it. You burn brighter.”
A crooked smile forms.
“You’re a little psycho sometimes—should’ve seen that coming—but I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. Not one. You are chaos and calm and fire and home. You’re everything.”
Tears are pouring from my eyes as the vicar finishes the ceremony, pronouncing us husband and wife.
There is nothing chaste about the way my husband kisses me, his hands holding me against him so tightly it’s as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
He pulls back, looking down at me the biggest grin.
“Mrs. Russo,” he says, looking far too pleased as he offers me an arm.
“What if I wanted you to be Mr. Romano?” I tease, slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow as we turn to face our friends and family.
“Then I’d be Mr. Romano.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
I tilt my head to look at him. He’s dead serious.
“Just like that?”
He leans down to whisper, “Whatever my wife wants.”
I melt.
Wife.
I’m his wife.
He’s my husband.
Mine.