Epilogue
CLEO
Two months later
Rome in winter was different than Rome in summer. It was a different kind of beautiful.
The tourist crowds had thinned. The heat had given way to cool temps. The sky was overcast but gorgeous. We had spent the New Year in New York with family and then decided to take January off to get in that traveling we were always putting off.
I sat in the same piazza where Cash and I had fallen in love, the one with the fountain and the café and the memory of dancing on cobblestones while drunk on wine and possibility.
My laptop was open in front of me, a video call window showing Sarah, one of my coaching clients.
One of ten. The business was still building but it was perfectly manageable.
I didn’t want to take on too much and not be able to provide my clients with the time and attention I promised.
She was telling me about her latest success. I felt like a proud mama. I had helped her reach her dreams. Me. I did that.
Her joy was why I’d taken the leap. Why I’d left my job with Melody and started my own coaching practice. These moments when someone realized their own power.
“I’m so proud of you,” I said.
We scheduled our next session and said goodbye. I closed my laptop and checked the time.
Cash was late. Twenty minutes late, which was unheard of. The man was pathologically punctual.
I tried calling. It went to voicemail.
A flutter of worry started in my stomach. What if something happened? What if he got mugged or lost? What if there had been an accident? Would they know to call me?
No. I was spiraling. He was fine. Probably just stuck in traffic or dealing with some last-minute thing.
I called Melody instead.
She picked up mid-laugh. “Hey! Hold on.” More laughter. “Austin, stop it, you’re going to make me pee.”
In the background, I heard Austin making what sounded like whale noises. And then baby Timothy’s giggling.
“Sorry,” Melody said, still laughing. “Austin’s being ridiculous. He’s doing animal sounds and Timothy thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world.”
“I can hear.” I smiled despite my worry. “How’s my favorite nephew?”
“Perfect. Exhausting. I haven’t slept more than three hours in a row in two months but I’ve never been happier.” She paused. “Wait, why are you calling? Aren’t you supposed to be on your romantic Rome vacation?”
“I am. I’m sitting in the piazza right now.”
“Without Cash?”
“He’s late. Which is weird.”
“How late?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“Cleo, he’s fine. He probably got held up.”
“You’re right. I’m being ridiculous.”
“You’re being in love. It’s cute.” Timothy squealed in the background. “I have to go. My child just spit up on his father. Call me later. Send pictures. I’m a little jealous of your worldwide tour. Jealous but happy.”
“You know I will.”
I hung up and tried to shake off the worry. Cash was fine. Everything was fine.
My server appeared. Marco, the same one from our first visit. He’d recognized me immediately when we’d arrived in Rome two days ago. He’d insisted on giving us the best table and treated us like royalty.
“Signorina,” he said, setting down a glass of champagne. “Compliments of a guest at the bar.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“A gentleman. He saw you sitting alone and wanted to send you a drink.” Marco smiled. “He said you are very beautiful.”
“Oh. I’m actually waiting for someone. My boyfriend. I appreciate it, but I can’t accept this.”
“He insisted. Said you would want it.”
That was presumptuous. I looked toward the restaurant, trying to see who was at the bar. “Can you point him out?”
“He asked me not to.” Marco’s smile widened. “But he said to tell you: when in Rome.”
My heart stopped.
When in Rome.
Just then, music started. Not from speakers. From actual musicians. A string quartet emerged from somewhere and took positions near the fountain. The melody was familiar. Something romantic and sweeping.
The piazza’s string lights blinked on all at once, even though it wasn’t quite dark yet. People at other tables started looking around, murmuring.
What was happening?
I stood up, looking for Cash. I wanted him here with me for whatever was happening. And I wanted the protection he provided.
A man walked out of the restaurant. Tall. Dark hair. Perfectly tailored suit. Moving through the early evening light like he owned the world.
Cash.
He walked straight to me. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could only stare.
“Hi,” he said.
I would never get tired of looking at the man.
It was truly unfair that he got better looking every day.
By the time he was seventy, I would need special glasses just to look at him.
He was far too attractive for my own good.
Normally, I would probably be jealous. But I wasn’t.
I completely trusted him. He would never cheat on me.
And he loved me. He only had eyes for me.
There were times when my own insecurities snuck up on me, but Cash always made me feel better.
“I’m sorry I’m late.” He didn’t look sorry. He looked like he was trying not to smile. “I was sitting at the bar, having a drink, when I saw the most beautiful woman in the piazza.”
“Very sneaky, Lurch.”
“And I thought to myself. That woman. She’s the one. My one true love.” He stepped closer. “So I bought her a drink. Hoped maybe she’d give me a chance.”
My eyes were already filling with tears. “What are you doing?”
“When in Rome,” he said simply.
Then he dropped to one knee. The piazza went silent. Every person there stopped what they were doing. The musicians played on. The fountain bubbled. And Cash Bancroft knelt in front of me, pulling a small box from his pocket.
“Cleo Quinn.” His voice was steady even though his hands weren’t.
My heart stopped beating the moment Cash pulled out that small velvet box. It felt as if Rome itself was holding its breath. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. My eyes were already blurring with tears.
“I’ve spent my entire life planning. Calculating. Making sure every step was measured and every risk was minimized. And then you walked into my world with your purple hair and your fearless heart, and you turned everything upside down in the best possible way.”
I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying to hold back a sob. This gorgeous man was on his knee in front of me in the very place where we’d first fallen in love.
“You taught me how to live,” he continued. “How to laugh. How to take chances. How to dance in fountains and eat gelato for breakfast and love without keeping score.”
The string quartet played softly in the background. People at nearby tables were watching, smiling, some of them wiping away tears of their own.
“I had this whole speech prepared,” Cash said, his voice cracking slightly.
“Pages of it. But now that I’m here, looking at you, the only words that matter are these.
I love you. I will always love you. And I want to spend every day of my life proving that to you.
You are my world. I want nothing and no one except for you. ”
He opened the box, revealing a ring that was the complete opposite of the one he presented to me for our fake engagement. It was a stunning emerald surrounded by diamonds, set in platinum. Not a traditional engagement ring. Something uniquely me. Something that showed he knew exactly who I was.
“I’m asking you to be my very real wife. My partner. My everything.”
I couldn’t stop the tears now. They flowed freely down my cheeks as I stared at this man who had completely changed my life.
“Cleo Quinn, will you marry me?”
It was more of a rhetorical question. We’d been talking about being married but we just never committed to it.
“Yes,” I whispered, then louder: “Yes! A thousand times yes!”
The piazza erupted in cheers and applause. Cash’s face broke into the most radiant smile I’d ever seen as he slipped the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly.
He stood and pulled me into his arms, lifting me off my feet and spinning me around. Then he kissed me. It felt like my heart was going to pound right out of my chest. I actually wondered if there was a risk of real damage. I didn’t know how I could keep getting happier. My cup runneth over.
When we broke apart, I looked at the ring. Looked at him. Looked at the piazza full of strangers celebrating our engagement.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it. I love you.” I grabbed his face in my hands. “When did you plan this?”
“Weeks ago. The musicians, the lights, getting Marco in on it.” He grinned. “I wanted to do it right. Give you the proposal you deserved.”
“It’s perfect.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The musicians switched to something faster. More festive. Cash took my hand.
“Dance with me,” he said.
“Here?”
“Where else?”
He pulled me into the space near the fountain and we danced. Just like we had all those months ago. Except this time I had a ring on my finger that meant the real thing.
This time it was real.
Other couples joined us. The whole piazza became a dance floor. Marco brought out more champagne. People toasted us even though they didn’t know us.
“This is insane,” I said, laughing as Cash spun me.
“Good insane or bad insane?”
“The best insane.”
We danced until my feet hurt. Until I was breathless and dizzy and so happy I could burst.
Finally, Cash pulled me close, holding me as we swayed to a slower song.
“I can’t believe you did this,” I said.
“I told you. When I propose, you’ll know.”
“I definitely know.” I looked up at him. “When?”
“When what?”
“When do you want to get married?”
“Tomorrow. Next week. Whenever you want.”
“Be serious.”
“I am serious.” He kissed my forehead. “But I know you. You’re going to want to plan. Make it perfect. So whenever you’re ready. A year, two years, whenever.”
“Not two years.”
“No?”
“No. I don’t want to wait that long.” I smiled. “Maybe a year?”
His eyes went wide. “Really?”
“I’ll wait.”
We kept dancing.
It was nearly midnight when we finally made it back to our hotel. The same one from our first trip. The same suite. Except this time when we walked in, there were flowers everywhere.
“You did not,” I said.
“I might have made a few calls.”
Roses. Peonies. Everything I’d ever mentioned loving. The room looked like a garden.
“Cash, this is crazy!”
I didn’t even want to think about how much it cost to have this many flowers in the dead of winter.
He pulled me close. “I meant what I said in the piazza. I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing up for you. Making you feel cherished. Being the partner you deserve.”
“You already are.”
“I’m going to be better.”
“You’re already perfect.”
“I’m really not.”
“You are for me.” I kissed him. “And that’s all that matters.”
We made love slowly. Taking our time. Both of us too overwhelmed with emotion to rush. And after, as we lay tangled together, I stared at my ring in the moonlight.
“Cleo Bancroft,” I said, testing it out.
“Has a nice ring to it.”
I fell asleep engaged to the love of my life.
It was perfect.
Everything was perfect.
I was going to be a wife. And hopefully a mother very soon.
I couldn’t wait.
***