Chapter 30 #2
"Will you marry me, Elena? Become my only wife and true love, stay with me forever?"
His voice low and steady. I'd imagined this moment, but when the man I loved actually knelt before me and proposed, I couldn't hold back tears.
I wiped at the tears streaming down, voice catching. "I will..."
I held out my right hand, fingers trembling. Dante took my hand and slowly slid the ring onto my finger.
He stood, pulled me into a tight embrace, chin on top of my head. "I'm going to give you the biggest wedding, Elena."
"Alright." I buried my face in his chest, listening to his heartbeat, answered muffled. "I'll wait."
Morning of the wedding, I sat at the vanity. The dress hung on a rack behind me.
Maggie stood behind me, pinning up my hair. Her hands shook a little. I saw it in the mirror, reached back and pressed her hand.
"Mother."
"Hey." Maggie's voice came out hoarse. "I'm happy, Elena. I used to worry about you out there alone. Now watching you wear the dress you made, marry the man you love—I can finally stop worrying."
I looked at her reflection. "When you married Richard, what was it like?"
Maggie paused. The comb in her hand stilled. Then, "We didn't know each other long before we got married. It was more duty than love between us."
I listened, distracted. "Did you love him?"
"Love wasn't important to me." Maggie smiled, crow's feet smoothing out. "Because of him, you came into this world. That was the best gift."
She set down the comb and pulled out a delicate jewelry box from her pocket. Inside lay a pair of small earrings.
"This is my wedding gift." She gently placed the earrings in my palm. "Elena, I made these myself. This shape means happiness. I hope you'll always be happy."
I looked at the slightly crude earrings, nose stinging. "Maggie..."
"Don't cry." Maggie wiped the corner of my eye. "Elena, let me put them on you."
She carefully fastened the earrings, stepped back to look, and nodded with satisfaction. "Beautiful, Elena. Today you're the most beautiful bride."
I turned and hugged her, buried my face in her shoulder. "Maggie. Thank you."
"Silly girl." Maggie patted my back. "All right, the wedding's about to start. Let's go downstairs."
She made me laugh. I wiped my eyes. "Okay. Stay with me."
Dante's voice came from downstairs, carrying helpless laughter. "Elena, I've been waiting over half an hour."
Maggie and I looked at each other. Both smiled.
The manor lawn was covered in flowers. Same manor as the first wedding, same lawn, same well-dressed guests. But this time, everything was different.
New York's major families gathered again. No one said a word out of line. No one looked at us with sizing-up eyes. Everyone held wine glasses, wore genuine smiles, came up to Dante and me, offered blessings.
"Look at Dante smile. Marrying the woman he loves makes a man this happy?"
"I heard his wife's a famous designer. That dress she's wearing—she designed it herself. It's gorgeous."
"Let's go congratulate them!"
I wore the dress I designed, stood beside Dante, belly high and round. The late pregnancy shape meant the waistline got altered three times. But Dante said I was the most beautiful bride he'd ever seen in this world.
Below, Maggie cried until her eyes turned red, kept dabbing with tissues. Lucia stood beside her, couldn't help tearing up too. Alfredo stood in the crowd, that perpetually stern face showing a rare hint of a smile.
The old priest stood under the flower arch, asked the same question he'd asked years ago. "Dante Moretti, do you take this woman to be your wife, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, until death do you part?"
Different from the first time—this time Dante didn't hesitate, didn't go silent.
"I do." He said it.
The priest turned to me. "Elena, do you take this man..."
"I do." I didn't even let him finish.
The guests laughed. Dante laughed too. He lowered his head, pressed a kiss to my lips. Light, but solemn.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife." The old priest looked at us kindly. "The groom may kiss the bride."
In the cheers, Dante took my hand, led me toward the end of the flower arch. Belly out, I walked slowly. He matched my pace, walked steadier than ever.
"Elena." He suddenly called my name quietly.
"Yeah?"
"Last time, you waited for me at the wedding. Waited a long time." He said. "This time, I'll wait for you. I'll keep waiting, walk every road ahead with you."
I squeezed his hand tight, looked at our intertwined fingers, that blue diamond ring refracting scattered light in the sun.
"Then it's settled," I said. "From now on, we walk together."
Dante didn't answer. Just tightened his grip, wrapped my whole fist inside his palm.
His palm was warm. Like June sunshine.
I stood beside him, belly out, wearing the dress I designed, surrounded by everyone's blessings, smiling toward what lay ahead.
Ahead was the long future. The studio we'd renovated together. My new brand. Our child about to be born. Every day we had coming.
Dante and I both finally understood—we couldn't live without each other.
The future stretched long. But we'd walk into it together.