Chapter 8 #2
Giselle hustled over to us as quickly as she could—which wasn’t really all that quick. Then she very, very, very carefully knelt in front of her fiancé. “What's going on? Are you okay?”
Carlo looked at Giselle and shook his head. “No,” he panted, “I'm not fucking okay.”
Giselle grasped his hands. Her beautiful face full of worry for him. “Do you need a doctor? Maybe we should call for an ambulance.”
That actually made Carlo laugh. But his breathing did seem better. So that was good, at least. He sat up and brought Giselle's hands to his mouth. “I've been out of my mind the whole fuckin' day.” He kissed her hands as he gazed at his fiancée lovingly—with sweat still dripping down his face.
Giselle's expression went blank as she took a deep breath. “Is it because of the prenup?”
The frown on Carlo's face made me take a few steps back. “What fucking prenup?” he asked—or more like—growled.
Yikes.
Somehow, Giselle managed to stay calm. I had no idea how, though. “I'll sign whatever you want me to sign, Carlo. Get me the papers, and I'll do it right now.”
I didn't think it was possible for Carlo to frown even harder. But it was. “What the fuck are you talking about, woman? There's no prenup. There never has been.”
Well, the good news was that Carlo’s panic attack seemed to be over.
But the bad news—was that the man was absolutely enraged.
I took another step back.
Giselle shrugged a shoulder and said, “Okay, so we wait until you can have one drawn up. I'm fine with waiting.”
Uh, oh.
That was definitely the wrong thing to say.
Carlo opened his mouth like he was going to yell—but Giselle got there first. “Obviously, you're worried about protecting yourself and—” she nodded to no specific thing, “everything you own. I don't blame you for that. Not at all. You'd be wise to have me sign one.”
Whatever was worse than enraged—that was what Carlo currently was.
Yikes.
“The only thing you're signing today is our marriage certificate. I don't know how or why you've got this shit floating around in your brain.” He leaned in closer to her. “There never was a prenup—and there never will be a fucking prenup. Have I made that clear to you?”
Giselle looked at her fiancé and shook her head. “I've never seen you like this before. I think you're—”
Now it was Carlo’s turn to interrupt her.
“What I am, Giselle, is worried as fuck that you don't want me anymore. And my body knows the chance of you actually marrying me today are really fucking slim. And my body also knows I'd rather die than not be married to you. So, it’s trying to kill me. Before you do.”
Giselle's eyes grew wide, and her face looked utterly shocked. “Carlo, no.” She touched his shoulders, and her hands slipped up his neck to his face. “Of course I want to marry you. I was just pointing out that I haven't signed a prenup, so maybe that's why you're—”
Carlo cut in. “Losing my mind?” He shook his head. “No, Giselle. I have zero reservations about marrying you. And I swear to Christ, if you say prenup—” he took a long, deep breath, “one more time, I'm going to blow something up.”
She pursed her lips together for a moment. “What about a postnup? You could always have your lawyers draw something up tomorrow? Or next week?”
Yeah.
Carlo was definitely going to blow something up.
Carlo pulled his fiancée to him. “If you want to leave,” his eyes and his voice went low and quiet, “you leave. And you take it. Take it all. I don't fuckin' care. Because if you leave—” his voice cracked, “if you leave, I've got nothing.”
Oh, gosh.
Even my knees nearly gave out when he said that.
“Carlo,” now Giselle's voice cracked, too. “I'll never leave you.” Tears filled her eyes. “I've wanted you from the second I saw you. The second I looked through that window, honey.” Her hands touched his cheeks. “I knew you were the one. And so did Daniella.”
Carlo's eyes slammed shut like he was in pain. And at that moment—I knew exactly what his pain felt like.
Because when I thought I'd lost Stefan forever—there was always a constant ache in my heart. Even though I felt like leaving was the right thing to do—it still killed. And if Carlo really thought that Giselle was going to leave him—he probably did feel like dying.
Carlo opened his eyes—his very wet eyes. “You'll still have me?” A few tears betrayed him and fell down his cheeks.
Giselle smiled and sniffled as her fingertips wiped away his tears. “As long as you'll still have me.” Then she kissed her fiancé. “Marry me, Carlo? In our house? Surrounded by our family. Make me your wife,” she whispered against his lips. Her tone was so touching—and so desperate.
But not as desperate as Carlo's voice, or what he said next. “I saved you once, Giselle. Breathed life right back into you. And while I was doing it, I asked God to save your life. But I also asked him to take mine, too—if he didn't.”
There wasn't a dry eye in the room. The sound of sobs and sniffling echoed through the room.
Until Giselle spoke through her tears. “You saved me once, Carlo.
Breathed your life right into me. But what you don't know is—you keep on saving me every single day.
There's no one else in the world I want to spend the rest of my life with. Only you.” Carlo stood, taking Giselle with him.
And then he kissed the absolute crap right out of her.
I mean—even I was breathless from watching them.
Then—they spoke softly to each other for a moment.
And they both grinned.
“I think we're ready now, Father.” Carlo gazed over at the priest.