Epilogue #2
Dante collected a handsome sum when he returned the necklace to its rightful owner.
It’s a beautiful ending for a man who rarely plays by the rules, albeit a little twisted.
Dante didn’t steal that necklace because he wanted to do good.
He didn’t do it to reunite an old lady with something that holds special meaning to her family.
He always had his eye on that reward. But he also did it for me, for us to be together.
“Do you, Jasper Everson, take Reino Selva as your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, and to never tamper with his spark plugs—or any part of his truck—again, until death do you part?”
Laughter breaks out among the guests, pierced by Jazz’s indignant gasp.
The priest gives her a mischievous smile. “He said he’d shoot me if I didn’t slip that part in.”
Reino winks. “Sorry, firecracker.” He takes her hands. “If it’s a hard no, I’ll forgo that one. You know how much my truck means to me. But I’ll give it up for you in a heartbeat.”
Her face crumples. “Oh, you silly man.” Going on tiptoes, she throws her arms around his neck and smacks him on the lips. “I do.”
“You’re not supposed to kiss yet,” the priest says.
From the grin that splits Reino’s face, he doesn’t mind.
Although it’s not common to say the traditional vows in an Orthodox church, Jazz insisted because she’s always dreamt about hearing those words.
Once Reino has said his part, the priest repeats the habitual three times, “The servant of God, Reino Selva, is crowned for the handmaiden of God, Jasper Everson, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
While the hymn is sung, I study my handsome husband.
Dante has kept every vow he made me. He took Noah, Flash, and me on vacation, first to the mountains and then to Disney World.
Flash wasn’t allowed in the amusement parks, but we found a great agility center where he could play with other dogs to his heart’s content while we were out during the day.
Dante is a good father and husband, and he’s made it his life mission to keep me happy.
Not that it takes much. All I need is that proprietary, dangerous smile or for his shirt to come off.
These days, my name is inked on the beautiful tableau of his chest, right over his heart.
Noah’s is next to the cross on his sternum that looks a lot like the one I still wear around my neck.
The space next to that is reserved for our baby girl once we’ve chosen a name.
I wipe away a few happy tears where I stand next to Jazz as she kisses Reino for the first time as her husband.
I think about the story that’s going around—that Dante saved Anya and Sav’s lives at their wedding when he kicked away a hand grenade.
What a horrible experience that must’ve been for everyone.
But they’re here, thanks to Dante, and I’ve never been more grateful for him.
When Jazz and Reino walk hand-in-hand down the aisle, receiving wishes for a long and happy marriage from their guests, I walk over to Dante.
He scrutinizes me, concern flickering in his eyes as he cups my round belly. “How are my girls doing?”
At first, Dante didn’t want to try for another baby.
He was too worried about the strain a pregnancy would put on my body.
With a solitary kidney, there’s a high risk of complications.
Eventually, we decided to try with careful monitoring and regular checkups.
So far, it’s going great. I don’t even have the morning sickness that plagued me when I was expecting Noah.
He smooths a broad palm over my stomach. “Let’s get you to the car.”
Noah runs up to us. “Can I go with Emily? Emma and Claire are already at the party.”
Noah dotes on Claire and Emma, Anya and Sav’s girls. I have an inkling he’s going to make a wonderful big brother.
I look at Dante. He nods. He’s made sure there’s sufficient security here as well as at the hotel where the reception is taking place. The roads are monitored, and guards will accompany the family members and guests. Since my kidnapping, Dante is even more paranoid about security than before.
Dante signals to Emily. “We’ll catch up with you there.”
I stare after Noah as he runs to Emily. He’s thriving in his new school. He’s finally growing roots and making friends. It’s all I ever wanted for him.
When Dante guides me down the aisle, my gaze falls on the back of Benson’s dark head as he escorts the beauty on his arm from the church.
“What’s Benson doing here?” I whisper. “I thought Sav hated him.”
Sav has gone ahead to meet Anya, waiting for everyone to clear the church.
Dante rubs a hand over my back. “Reino invited him as a courtesy.”
“Who’s his plus-one? She looks young enough to be his daughter.”
“His goddaughter.”
“Really? He didn’t kiss her like a godfather should kiss a goddaughter.”
“It’s complicated.”
I want to ask more, but Anya and Sav walk up.
Sav addresses Dante. “The roads are clear. I’ve just checked in with my men.”
The eye prothesis is so well made, you won’t notice it if you don’t know Sav’s history.
Yet now it serves as another stark reminder of what they’d been through and how lucky all three of them had been to survive.
Dante doesn’t talk about that day. He only mentioned it once briefly when he told me how Sav had protected Anya from the blast by covering her body with his.
Ever since he’s shared that with me, I’ve always looked at Sav differently—with new admiration. Anya too. She’s so strong.
Sav nods at me before taking Anya’s arm. “We’ll see you there.”
Anya smiles. “Jazz told us she didn’t want a table planning. I’ll keep you a seat. The girls would like to sit close to Noah.”
Sav chuckles. “No doubt to get up to mischief.”
Dante grins. “We’ve done worse at their age.”
Sav only grunts as he leads his wife outside.
We’re the last people left. It’s nice. Tranquil. I love coming here when I need a little peace and quiet. I still have my own key. The bishop reckoned it was a good idea while I was helping to oversee the renovations. No one has asked me to return it.
Catching the way Dante is looking at me, I ask, “What?”
He cups my face. “You’re insanely beautiful, you know that?”
“You’ll make a girl blush,” I tease.
He remains serious. “Even more so when you’re pregnant.” His gaze plays over my face. “You always have a haunted, melancholic look in your eyes.”
“Do I?”
He brushes a thumb over my cheek. “But when you’re pregnant, you get this soft look that’s closer to something like peace.”
“Maybe I am at peace.”
He slides his hands down the curve of my neck before bringing them to rest on my shoulders. “Are you?”
The question sounds tormented. If my eyes are haunted, his are always awash with an inextinguishable need for redemption.
“Dante.” I lean against him. “Kiss me.”
He smiles. “Are you begging me?”
Reaching up, I press my lips to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll say please too.”
“Told you you’d beg,” he boasts, letting me feel the full impact of that sexy dimple in his cheek.
Yes, long ago, just after he’d found me, I refused to kiss him, and he swore that one day, I’d beg him to. Today is that day.
“If you kiss me, Dante Morici, you’ll never ask me if I’m at peace again.”
“Yeah?” He arches a brow. “And why’s that?”
“Because you’ll know how much I love you. If our past hasn’t changed that, nothing will.”
He grabs my face between his palms, searching my eyes with a feverish light burning in his. “If there was anyone who could survive me, it was you.”
No longer denying me, he kisses me like only Dante can, like he kissed me the first time and every other time after that—as if it’s our last.
I moan in protest when he pulls away.
“I love you, Tatiana Morici. Everything has always been about you. If you’ve ever doubted that, don’t.”
“How can I? You show me every day how much you love us.” I place a hand over my belly. “Me, Noah, and her.”
Taking my hand, he intertwines our fingers. “I better get you to the car. You shouldn’t be standing so long.”
Sweeping me off my feet, he cradles me against his chest.
“Dante?” I say as he carries me to the exit.
He smiles that dangerous, disarming smile that makes my knees weak. “Darling?”
“What do you do with all the panties you tear off my body?”
He only smiles wider.
I thread my fingers through his hair. “I really want to know.”
“I don’t tear everything. You make me sound like a caveman.”
“They don’t make it to the trashcan. I’ve looked.” I shrug a shoulder. “I’m curious.”
“I have a whole drawer just for your used panties,” he says offhandedly, not showing a stitch of shame.
I feel myself blush like a teenager. “You’re a beast.”
“Most likely.” He climbs down the steps, carrying me into the sunshine of a splendid summer day. “But I’m your beast.”
His words warm me inside more than any love declaration can.
Our love is not the fairy tale kind. Our brand of love is the kind that shines brighter than the darkness through which we had to find our way to each other.
THE END