Epilogue
DIANA
Two months later. . .
“. . . And, yeah, that’s basically what’s been going on these last few months,” I finish, blowing out a long breath. A small smile curves on my lips. “Sorry I haven’t visited you before this, Dad. But now you know it’s just been a little hectic.”
A breeze blows by, and my eyes fall shut, letting the wind caress my skin. My heart twists, and I choose to believe that was a sign from my dad, wherever he is, that he’s been listening to me talk nonstop for the last fifteen minutes about what’s been going on in my life. I open my eyes a few minutes later, the tears stinging but not yet falling as I smile at the headstone in front of me.
Benjamin Gregory Elliott
Beloved father, devoted friend.
I take in a sharp breath. “Happy birthday, Dad,” I whisper, hoping he can still hear me.
With the bouquet of daisies resting at his grave, I get up to my feet and brush the dirt and dry leaves off my jeans, before walking away. It feels as though I’m leaving a piece of my heart behind as I leave the cemetery, but maybe it will always feel that way. There won’t be a day that I won’t miss my dad, but I also know he wouldn’t want me to make my entire life revolve around missing him.
By the time I get back to the estate, I feel a little lighter, and a smile tugs at my mouth when I see Bruno’s car is here, along with the butterflies that erupt in my chest. When I walk into the house, the first thing that catches my attention is the unmistakable scent of brownies lingering in the air. In the distance, I can hear the sounds of Monica and Matteo laughing their adorable, shrieking giggles.
I walk into the kitchen, and my jaw drops even as I grin, staring at the sight before me. Clearly, they had tried to make brownies from scratch, judging by the flour smeared on each of their cheeks. “What is going on here?” I ask with a laugh, eyes widening in delight.
Three pairs of eyes look at me. Monica, Matteo, and Bruno, who looks just as much of a mess as his kids. It’s a wonderful sight, one that I want to be burned in my head forever. “We’re making brownies,” Matteo grins.
Next to him, Monica’s shoulders slump as she pouts at me. “We wanted to surprise you,” she says, sounding upset that the surprise is apparently ruined, looking up at her dad.
My heart melts as I press a hand to my chest before my gaze slides over to Bruno. He’s in his leisure clothes, just sweats and a shirt, gorgeous as always. Bruno walks over to me, my gaze never leaving him as he approaches me until his tall body towers over mine. “Well, I’m totally surprised,” I answer Monica, but my gaze is fixed on Bruno’s dark eyes.
I see the worry gently swimming in his eyes—an emotion he has started freely showing around me—along with others. He’s not as closed off and cold as he had been when we first met, and I know it’s because of how much things have changed between us. It’s a change I welcome. “How’re you doing?” Bruno asks me quietly, brushing a lock of my blonde hair behind my ear.
My chest thumps, and I adore the sight of the flour smeared on his cheek, some of his beard a victim to the flour as well. “I’m okay,” I say quietly, nodding. And I am okay, I realize. I hurt, as I always will, but it’s not too unbearable. Especially when Bruno gently grasps my hands and doesn’t break his gaze from mine. I jerk my chin toward the counter where the kids are. “Was this your idea?”
Bruno gives me a soft smile that makes my chest flutter even more. “I told the kids today was your dad’s birthday. They know he’s. . . gone,” he says carefully, and I nod. “And they wanted to do something for you. Hence the brownies.”
Warmth spreads through my body and tears sting my eyes, though these ones are of pure joy and the overwhelming feeling of being loved. “That’s so sweet,” I murmur, my hand reaching up to wipe the flour off Bruno’s cheeks. “Thank you.”
Bruno flashes another smile. “Don’t thank us yet—I have no idea what we’re doing.” That pulls a laugh out of me and he shrugs his broad shoulders. “I googled a recipe but, you know, they won’t be as good as yours.”
I roll my eyes, grinning. “Obviously not,” I tease. “Come on, I’ll help.”
For the next little while, the four of us work together making the brownies, and it has me feeling more relaxed than I had woken up this morning. Once the brownies are in the oven, I usher Monica and Matteo out of the kitchen to get cleaned up.
They run out, and just as I move to help Bruno clean up the counter, their footsteps come rushing back. “Oh!” I say, surprised when the twins both hug my middle, and my heart jumps as I look down at them but return the hug. I glance at Bruno, who is smiling as he watches us, his eyes full of a kind of warmth and love that had once only been for his kids, but now I know is also extended to me. Laughing lightly, I ask the kids, “What’s this for?”
Monica looks up at me, green eyes bright as she grins. “We love you,” she says simply, and those three simple words have my heart stopping. I can’t ever hear it enough—not from them, nor from their dad.
My hands rest on the back of their heads, throat tight as I will myself not to cry. God, I’ve been doing that a lot lately—but for good reason. “I love you guys, too,” I whisper, smiling down at the kids.
They both give me one last squeeze before rushing off, and I stare after them for a moment before releasing a breath and shaking my head. When I look at Bruno, who is eyeing me quietly, I shake my head. “I love those kids.”
Officially, I’m not Monica and Matteo’s nanny anymore since Bruno and I got together. But my time is spent with them for the most part, looking after them as if they’re my own kids—and, honestly, I believe them to be. After everything we went through, Bruno and I have gotten our heads out of our asses and committed to our feelings for each other. I’ve moved up into his master bedroom, and I’m currently in the process of selling my dad’s house after bringing over the trinkets he had collected over the years, and putting the rest in storage.
The house is being sold, the Russians are no longer a threat, and Bruno and I can finally be together.
His smile widens a bit as he walks over to me. “They love you, too,” he says as if Monica didn’t just say it moments ago. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close until my front is pressed against his, and I’m tilting my head back to look up at him. “I love you.”
I will never get tired of him saying those words to me.
“I love you, too,” I say, leaning up until my lips press to his.
Bruno returns the kiss easily and I revel in the scratch of his beard against my skin, and the subtle taste of chocolate on his mouth since we all had licked the brownie batter left in the mixing bowl. My heart rate picks up as I kiss him, the butterflies going into a frenzy.
When we pull away—too soon for my liking—Bruno looks down at me. “I had an idea,” he begins, and I arch my eyebrows. “How about I rebuild the bakery? I know how much you loved it; you could continue your father’s legacy by running it yourself.”
My breath hitches at his offer. It’s only been a few months since the fire and dad’s death, even if it feels like a lifetime ago. I hadn’t yet decided on what to do with the bakery, whether I wanted to rebuild it, or just let it go altogether. Everything had been cleared up, of course, but it obviously didn’t look like what it once did prior to the fire. There still needs to be a lot of construction done, plus the ordering of supplies and machinery and whatnot. I haven’t done any of it because I didn’t know what I wanted, and Bruno, since he owns the building, hasn’t even touched the spot where the bakery is.
The idea of continuing dad’s legacy and running the bakery I spent so much of my childhood in sounds almost perfect, but. . .
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to do it right now,” I say carefully, my heart thumping wildly as I look up at Bruno. Confusion washes over his face, no doubt taking in my cautious tone. I swallow the nervous dryness in my throat and focus on the butterflies in my chest. With a nervous smile, I say, “Running a bakery and taking care of three kids at the same time sounds like a bit too much.”
Bruno blinks. “Three kids?” He inhales sharply as I stare up at him, chewing my lower lip as realization dawns on that handsome face of his. His gaze drops to my still-flat stomach before he asks, “Diana, you’re pregnant?”
I nod, the tears springing in my eyes as I let out a breathless laugh. “I found out this morning,” I tell him. “Before I left for the cemetery.”
Pregnant. I had taken multiple pregnancy tests this morning to confirm, but they all said the same thing. I’m carrying Bruno’s third kid. And it’s exciting, nerve-wracking, and overwhelming all at the same time.
God, the hormones are already doing a number on me.
I inhale sharply and ask, “Are you happy?”
A breath escapes Bruno as he stares at me incredulously. I love this—how easily he can show emotion, what’s going on in his head and heart. “Happy?” he repeats as his hands come up to cup my cheeks. His brown eyes shine and I’m half a second away from crying as he says, “Sweetheart, I’m fucking thrilled.” He lets out a deep, joyous laugh as his thumbs stroke my damp cheeks. “Our family is growing.”
Our family.
Those words hit me so deeply, I squeeze my eyes shut and Bruno pulls me in for a hug, holding me tightly. Just months ago, I had felt like I was all alone in the world after losing dad. He had been the only family I had left, and he was gone. Now here I am, with this man that I love more than anything, and two kids that feel like they’re mine just as much as the baby in my belly does. In a matter of months, I went from having no one to having an entire family.
An adventure of a lifetime. I can almost hear dad’s voice in my head. Because that’s what this has all been—an adventure.
With Bruno by my side and our kids, I know I’m about to face my biggest adventure yet.
*****
A year later, that’s exactly what it’s all been. Our baby boy, Benny Cataldi, had been born nine beautiful months later, and a few months after that, Bruno surprised me by rebuilding the bakery, telling me it’ll be here for me to run whenever I’m ready. He’d made it exactly as it had been, and as we adjusted from having two kids to three, I put Marley, one of the former bakery employers, in charge of running it.
I know I’ll be back working in my dad’s bakery soon enough. And I look forward to raising all three of my kids within the walls of that bakery the way my dad raised me.
THE END