Epilogue Lily
EPILOGUE
Lily
ABOUT TWO YEARS LATER
A s much as I’d love to keep watching you work, we do have a plane to catch tonight.” Lorenzo’s voice startles me.
I drop the tweezer tool I use to arrange flower petals and whirl around to find Lorenzo leaning against the wall, looking comfortable in my workshop despite the chaos surrounding him.
He quit offering to help me organize the space a few months back once he realized I thrive in calm chaos—a term he didn’t utilize until we finally moved in together.
I stand and stretch my aching back muscles. “How long have you been standing there?”
The telling grin on his face speaks volumes.
“Maybe I’ll take you up on installing that fancy security system,” I taunt. “Seems like I have a stalker problem.”
“More like you have a husband problem, amore mio .” His sparkling gaze flickers to the diamond wedding band he added to my finger seven months ago.
I toss my work apron across the stool I ditched an hour ago in favor of working on my feet. “What time is it?”
“Four.”
I gasp. “We gotta go!”
I’m a frazzled mess as I dart around the workshop, searching for my phone. Lorenzo lunges forward and catches me when I trip over a box of supplies that I accidently left in the middle of a walkway.
“You’re a walking, talking safety hazard,” he says before searching for my phone. I’m strongly encouraged—okay, forced —to sit on a stool and watch him find the device in less than a minute.
“Show off.” I rise from the seat. “Now, time to find my keys.”
His eyes close with his long exhale.
“Kidding! They’re in my purse.” I pat the leather shoulder bag pressing into my side.
“You go ahead. I’m going to help clean up a bit before locking up.”
“Are you sure?”
He checks his watch. “We have an hour before we need to leave for the airport and you’re still not finished packing, so yes. Now get going.”
“You’re the best!” I hit him with a quick kiss on the cheek, and he returns my affectionate peck by sliding his hands into the back pockets of my jeans and tugging me into his body.
He crushes his lips to mine and kisses me until I forget all about what I originally set out to do.
“See you soon, wife,” he says with a rasp while pulling his hands away.
An excited tingle spreads down my spine.
“Now, Lily.” He gives my ass a light swat, and I take off for the exit because as much as I want to stick around, I need to get packing.
We have a plane to catch and a honeymoon to start, and commercial flights wait for no one.
“Welcome to Amsterdam,” the flight attendant says both in English and Dutch.
“We finally made it!” I let out an excited squeal as Lorenzo and I exit the aircraft and head toward baggage claim.
He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me in for a kiss. “Excited?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve been dreaming of this day since I did an entire presentation on Holland.”
Despite Lorenzo’s offer to book a year ago, I wanted to hold off on visiting Europe until our honeymoon.
Between him becoming mayor, me focusing on the Pressed Petal, and us planning a three-hundred-person wedding, we couldn’t take a two-week vacation.
Plus I wanted to finish building our dream cottage, which Dahlia and Julian helped us build from the ground up.
I never thought I’d see the day where Lorenzo asked Julian for his opinion on anything, but turns out the two can get along, although I’m not sure they’d ever build another house together.
Apparently Julian didn’t appreciate the way Lorenzo was always breathing down his neck, making sure everything down to the grout color matched my vision for our future home.
Now that our lives are settled, we finally sat down to plan our honeymoon.
With our schedules fully cleared for the first time since Lorenzo’s victory speech, I’m looking forward to some alone time with my husband .
Lorenzo doesn’t so much as grumble when he lifts my massive, overweight luggage off the conveyer belt, although his arms strain when he has to roll it through the busy train station and carry it up the platform steps once we arrive at the city center.
He curses in Italian more than once while I push his cute little carry-on luggage around with a smile. Once we arrive at our hotel, he lets out a relieved sigh, only to have it cut short when I nearly get mowed down by a bicycle.
He doesn’t let go of my hand after that, and he spends the entire check-in and ride up to our hotel room quietly processing the incident.
“I’ll be more careful next time, baby,” I try to reassure him. “I didn’t realize I was standing in the middle of a bike lane.”
He locks the door behind us and triple-checks the lock before turning to face me. “This trip is going to send me straight back to therapy.”
He has no idea.
“How’s your anxiety?” I offer him a compassionate smile because yes, there is a chance he might have to discuss a few new worries with his therapist once we return home.
He shoots me a look. “It was better, but now that you almost died from a bicycle…”
I gape at him. “Died? Don’t be dramatic.”
“Did you see how fast he was pedaling? The person had to be clocking forty miles an hour.”
I laugh from the absurdity of that comment. “Uh, no. I was too busy being saved by my husband to notice.” I throw my arms around his neck and pull him in for a hug. “You’re my hero.”
His eyes soften at the corners. “I can’t be around to protect you twenty-four seven.”
“No, but for the next two weeks, you’re all mine, husband .”
His mouth finds mine as he steals a passionate kiss that ends all too soon. “First baby . Now husband . What’s next?”
“How about daddy ?” I tease.
He chokes on air. “On second thought, let’s stick with those two.”
Screw it.
I had this entire plan set up with a photographer, but I don’t think I can hold the secret in any longer, especially if I randomly get nauseous during the day.
So, with a shaky hand, I reach inside my purse and pull out a grainy black-and-white photo.
“At least you have eight months to change your mind.”
His face goes completely blank, the span between eye-blinks being few and far between.
“Lorenzo?”
I might’ve officially broken his brain because he says nothing .
“You good?” I ask.
With a shaky hand, he reaches for the photo. “You’re…”
“Pregnant.” I point at the little dot. “And this right here is Lorenzo Junior.” A nervous laugh bubbles out of me.
He draws a circle around our baby. “Isn’t it too soon to tell?”
I pat my stomach. “I’ve got a feeling about it.”
He stares at my belly as he slides to his knees in front of me, his eyes full of wonder. My own blur from tears as I watch Lorenzo gently brush his hand across my nonexistent bump.
“This is really happening?” he asks, his voice hoarse from emotion.
“According to the two tests I took and my blood results, yup. We’re going to be parents.”
The doctor told me such, but now that Lorenzo is in front of me, cradling my hand in his trembling one, the truth finally settles in.
He looks up at me with misty eyes. “Thank you.”
I thread my fingers through his hair, pushing the strands back so I can get a better look at him. “I know it happened a bit sooner than we expected—”
He jumps to his feet and crushes me against his chest, only to release me with a curse.
“Shit. Are you okay?” He holds me at arm’s length and scans my body for a nonexistent injury.
“Lorenzo. I’m fine.” I wrap my arms securely around his waist and pull him back in. “We can hug, kiss, and have sex like normal. Google it if you don’t believe me.”
His eyes flicker between my face and my stomach. “Of course I do.”
“Good, because I did not pack a bunch of sexy lingerie for nothing.”
He tilts my head back. “Can I see?”
“Only if you promise to be on your worst behavior.” I grip his chin roughly with one hand and brush the other down his chest.
“You swear the baby will be safe?”
I shoot him a look that dares him to ask me that question again.
Thankfully he thinks better of it, instead choosing to drag me into the shower, where we spend the next twenty minutes celebrating our new titles.
Mom and Dad.
After we bike our way across Amsterdam for two days, Lorenzo and I finally make it out to the tulip fields.
I spend the entire bus ride fidgeting in my seat, and on more than one occasion, Lorenzo asks if I need to use the restroom.
He does so while glancing toward the back of the bus with a look of sheer terror, and I’m tempted to say yes, just to see how he reacts.
“I’m so excited,” I say as the tour guide announces that we have made it to the Keukenhof garden.
I jump to my feet, grab Lorenzo’s hand, and yank him toward the shuttle’s exit. We are the first ones off the bus, so we have some peace and quiet before the rest of the guests join us.
Tomorrow we have a private day planned with a photographer, but today I wanted to enjoy a tour with a bunch of fellow flower enthusiasts.
We walk through the colorful fields, and I stop a few times to watch how the tulips sway in the wind, the hypnotic motion stealing my attention more than once.
I catch Lorenzo snapping a few photos of me when I’m not paying attention, and by the time we return to our hotel room that night, his phone has a new background photo of us that a fellow tourist took.
I’m leaning forward to get a better look of the picture when Lorenzo comes up behind me and winds an arm around me, cradling my stomach.
“Replacing our wedding-day picture already?” I joke.
“I couldn’t resist.”
“But I liked that one.” I pout.
“I think I might like this one more.”
“What?” I tilt my head to the side so I can get a better look at him.
“It’s the first one of our family, so how can I not?”
A heat radiates through my chest, my insides melting at the sound of pure adoration in his voice.
I return to looking at the photo with a smile and take in the way Lorenzo cradles me to his chest, the pose matching how he is holding me now.
When I agreed to our original arrangement, I never imagined we would end up together. At one point, I nearly gave up on finding my own happily-ever-after, but Lorenzo reminded me what it felt like to dream.
It might’ve taken twenty-plus years for my first wish to come true, but now I have what I wanted most.
A family to call my own, and a husband to share it with.
My father might not be physically here, but I’ll keep his memory alive by taking my children to the fountain and telling them all about their grandpa and the gold coins he gave me.
And one day, when they’re old enough, I’ll tell them exactly what he told me.
To wish is to hope, and that’s the one thing no one can take away from you.