Chapter 19 - Rome Was Never Just a Stop, It Was Home
Sasha
The Geneva sun glints off Lake Léman as I settle at an outdoor table at Café du Soleil. I'm early, giving myself time to collect my thoughts before my friends arrive. The last few weeks have been hectic with the moving and all.
I can’t wait to update my friends on what has been happening.
"Sasha!" Gabriella's voice cuts through the ambient chatter. I look up to see her waving frantically as she weaves between tables, the others close behind.
I stand to embrace them one by one—Gabriella's enthusiastic squeeze, Naomi's elegant air kiss, Isabelle's warm hug, and Erina's measured embrace that communicates more than words.
"You look different," Erina observes as we settle around the table, her sharp eyes assessing me. "Happier. More settled."
"Italian sunshine agrees with her," Naomi teases, signaling the waiter for drinks.
I smile, fingering the delicate gold bracelet Matteo fastened around my wrist before I left Rome three days ago, a compass rose, to help me find my way back to him, he'd said.
"So," Gabriella leans forward, practically vibrating with curiosity, "don't keep us in suspense. What's the big news? Are you pregnant? Engaged? Both?"
"Neither," I laugh, though the thought sends an unexpected flutter through my stomach. "I’m moving to Rome"
I take a deep breath, suddenly nervous despite having rehearsed this moment countless times. "I got a job and an apartment with Matteo.”
A moment of silence follows my announcement. Erina's expression is unreadable, while Gabriella and Isabelle exchange glances loaded with meaning.
“Are you sure about this?” Naomi asks.
“Hundred percent. I want this. The job is perfect for me, plus there’s nothing for me in New York anymore.”
“Wow! This is huge news,” Gabriella comments.
“I know,” I say, and look at Erina waiting for her honest opinion on the subject.
“That’s why we need drinks to celebrate,” she says instead, signaling the water. “If you are happy, then I’m happy.”
We drown ourselves in Mimosas as we update each other on what has been going on in our lives since the pact we made on that drunken night.
Naomi has applied for her masters in Switzerland, Isabelle is going for an interview in Paris in a week, Erina is visiting Czech, just to get a feel of what it’s like over there and Gabriella is going for a week-long vacation in Spain.
The pack now seems a bit crazy, but hey, it’s working out.
***
The sun sets over Rome as Matteo meets me at the airport, his face lighting up when he spots me weaving through the crowd of travelers. I quicken my pace, falling into his open arms, breathing in his familiar scent.
"Welcome home, mio dolcezza," he murmurs against my hair.
Home. The word settles in my chest with surprising weight. Rome has become home in a way New York never quite managed, despite my years there.
"I missed you," I confess, tilting my face up for his kiss.
"Three days felt like an eternity," he agrees, taking my carry-on bag. "How was Geneva? How are your friends?"
"Beautiful. Happy for me," I reply as we walk hand-in-hand toward the exit. "Though I think Erina's still reserving final judgment on you."
Matteo laughs. "Smart woman. I'd expect nothing less from your friends."
Instead of turning toward the city center, Matteo directs our driver to head east, away from our apartment.
"Where are we going?" I ask, curiosity piqued. "I thought we were heading home."
"I have a surprise," he says mysteriously, his fingers tracing patterns on my palm. "Something I've been planning while you were away."
The car winds through increasingly rural landscapes, vineyards and olive groves bathed in golden light. After nearly an hour, we turn onto a cypress-lined drive that curves up a gentle hill. At its crest stands a stone villa, its windows glowing amber in the night.
"Matteo," I breathe, "what is this place?"
He smiles, a mixture of nervousness and excitement I've rarely seen on his normally confident face. "Let me show you."
The driver opens our door, and Matteo leads me up the stone steps to a massive wooden door studded with iron. He produces an old-fashioned key from his pocket, its brass gleaming in the fading light.
"Villa Serafina," he says, pushing the door open to reveal a soaring entryway with terracotta floors and exposed wooden beams. "Built in 1743 for a countess who fell in love with a local vintner against her family's wishes."
I step inside, my fingers tracing the cool stone walls as Matteo guides me through room after room.
Each space feels both grand and intimate—a kitchen with a massive hearth and modern appliances seamlessly integrated, a dining room with French doors opening to a stone terrace, a library with floor-to-ceiling shelves already filled with books in multiple languages.
"It's magnificent," I whisper, overwhelmed by the beauty surrounding us. "But I don't understand..."
Matteo leads me to the terrace, where a table has been set for two, candles flickering in the gentle evening breeze. Below us, vineyards stretch out as far as the eye can see, their neat rows fading into the dusky horizon. Matteo turns to me, taking both of my hands in his.
"Sasha, this place isn't just a villa. It's our home, if you want it to be. I bought it for us, to build a life together."
My breath catches. "You bought a villa? For us?"
He nods, his green eyes intense in the candlelight. "I know it might seem sudden, but these past months with you have shown me what I want. And that's a future with you, dolcezza. Always."
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "Matteo, I don't know what to say. This is beyond anything I could have imagined."
He smiles, that soft, private smile he reserves only for me. "You don't have to say anything yet. Just let me show you the rest."
He leads me back inside and up a grand staircase.
At the end of the hall, he pushes open a set of double doors to reveal the master suite.
A four-poster bed dominates the space, its linens crisp and white.
French doors open to a private balcony overlooking the vineyards, the scent of lavender drifting in on the breeze.
But what takes my breath away are the photos.
Our photos, from our time together, enlarged and displayed in elegant frames on the walls.
Me laughing on a Rome street corner, Matteo's arm around my waist. The two of us at his family's villa in Tuscany, sun-drenched and happy.
A candid shot of me asleep on his chest, his fingers twined in my hair.
"I had them printed and framed," Matteo says softly from behind me. "So every morning when we wake up, we'll remember how our story began."
I turn to him, tears now falling freely down my cheeks. "It's perfect. All of it. I love you so much."
He takes my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away my tears. "There's one more thing."
Slowly, never breaking eye contact, he sinks to one knee. From his pocket, he withdraws a small velvet box. My heart pounds as he opens it to reveal a ring - a brilliant emerald flanked by two diamonds, set on a delicate gold band.
"Sasha Moretti, you were never just a runaway. You were always meant to be here. You've brought light, laughter, and love beyond anything I knew I could feel. You are my heart, my home, my forever. Will you marry me?"
For a moment, I can't speak past the lump in my throat. This man, this love, this life he's offering me - it's more than I ever dared to dream.
"Yes," I manage at last, my voice thick with emotion.
Matteo slips the ring on my finger, and kisses me. Somewhere in the house, I hear a cheer then clapping. Matteo smirks encouraging me to go and see.
Right there in our new villa is his family, my friends- who apparently lied about flying back home, and my family.
I rush to show them the ring as Matteo welcomes them to our new home. I look back at him, talking to my father, and I realize how lucky I am.