Chapter 17
Vivian
Alejandro held my hand through every contraction. I couldn’t believe it, I would finally become a mom!
He whispered in Italian, squeezed my fingers, stroked my hair. He never left, not for a second—not even when the nurse suggested he take a break.
“I won’t miss a moment,” he said. “Not a single one.”
It hurt like freaking hell. I yelled, I swore, I almost punched the anesthesiologist.
But when they put my son in my arms, everything stopped.
He was small, squirmy, perfect. He had Alejandro’s dark eyes and my stubborn chin.
I stared at him, at the life we’d made, and for the first time ever, I believed in miracles.
Alejandro cried harder than I did. He thanked me, over and over, for giving him “the only thing I ever wanted.”
We named him Matteo, after Alejandro’s father.
The Bellandi estate threw a christening party that lasted three days.
There were flowers, music, laughter in every room. Old men toasted the baby. Women clucked and cooed. There was enough food to feed a small country.
Lisa sent a card from a thousand miles away, scrawled with love.
I read it to the baby as he napped in his bassinet.
Alejandro’s friends and family welcomed me like I’d always belonged.
I never felt lonely again.
One night, after the house was quiet, Alejandro took me to the balcony.
We looked out over the vineyards, rows of green glowing under the moonlight.
He wrapped his arms around me, chin resting on my shoulder.
“I was lost before I met you,” he said. “You gave me a reason to start over.”
I smiled, tears prickling.
“I thought my life ended with Ryan,” I said. “I was wrong.”
He kissed the top of my head. “You were just beginning.”
We watched the stars for a long time.
Later, I checked on Matteo one last time.
He slept peacefully, arms above his head like he was ready to fight the world.
I curled up beside him, wrapped in the quiet.
For once, I didn’t worry about what came next.
I had everything I wanted.
Holy. Freaking. Heck.
Sometimes, the worst endings are just the start of the best stories.