Chapter Five
Ella
Tiero fastens the scarf around my neck, then pulls my beanie further down over my ears. Behind us, Claudette opens the front door, and an icy breeze rushes in.
“It’s particularly cold today. Put on your gloves, angel,” Tiero orders, kissing the tip of my nose.
There are times when his bossiness is endearing. The way he always makes sure I’m warm whenever we step outside is one of them.
“Yes, dear.” I bat my eyelashes at him, making him chuckle.
He places his hand on the small of my back and guides me outside. He’s always done this. Back in Sicily, just after we met, it was a claim, meant to ward off other men.
But since Tiero found out about Peanut, that gesture has shifted.
There’s still an element of ownership, but now there’s a softness to it too. A protective instinct to guard the life growing inside me, especially after everything we’ve been through.
When we’re together, one of his hands is always on me. It’s like a quiet promise that he’s there.
I stop at the top of the stairs and take in the scenery. This never gets old.
It’s only early afternoon, but the sun is already low in the sky, bathing the landscape in soft hues of rose and gold and casting long shadows across the snow-covered ground.
The air carries the scent of pine needles and the subtle aroma of wood smoke from the fire inside.
I draw in a deep breath as a sense of peace settles over me. After all the chaos of the past few months, I let it sink in, grateful for this life.
“God, I love living here. Isn’t this just the best?”
Tiero wraps his arms around me from behind and rests his head on top of mine.
“Yes. If only it were warmer.”
He’s been talking about finding a private island in the Caribbean and moving there once the dust of our ‘deaths’ has settled and Peanut is born. But I love it here and would happily make this our permanent home.
The freezing Alaskan conditions, though, are a challenge for my Sicilian man. He needs a warm climate, or so he tells me.
My man, with his olive skin kissed by the sun of a thousand Italian summers, looks out of place in this pristine winter landscape with its snow-capped peaks.
Right now, I can only see his face. Layers of insulated clothing swallow his normally tailored silhouette. I’m used to seeing my fiancé in the finest suits, not in snow boots and down jackets.
Will I ever get used to his new look? More importantly, will he?
“Are the two of you coming?” Claudette calls from the car. “The registry office won’t be open for much longer.”
That’s another stark contrast to his previous life.
Back in Italy, Tiero drove Ferraris or SUVs built like tanks. Here, we drive sturdy, dependable four-wheel-drive pickups.
If his old circles could see him now…
“Coming,” I call out as I make my way down the steps.
After slipping on the stairs in Canada, I take extra care. My wrist has only just healed, and I’m in no hurry to end up in a cast again, ever.
Powdered snow crunches beneath my feet as we walk to the pickup. Just as we reach it, a flash of white catches my eye. Curious, I crane my neck to see what it is.
An elegant bird has landed in a nearby tree, sending snow cascading from the branches like a waterfall.
Claudette appears beside us, following my line of sight.
“Isn’t it beautiful? Kind of captivating. I’ve never seen a bird with an eyebrow, let alone one so bright red,” I say, watching it balance on the swaying branch.
“That’s a willow ptarmigan,” Claudette tells us.
I swivel my head and stare at her.
“Are you an ornithologist now? How do you know that?”
She grins. “There are books on the local wildlife in the library. I have to pass my time somehow when the two of you disappear to have,” she draws quotation marks in the air, “an early night.”
Behind me, Tiero chuckles.
“Right, so you found nothing better than reading about birds?”
“What can I say? They’re fascinating, even more so when you look into their symbolism.”
“So what is the willow ptarmigan trying to tell me?” I ask, nodding toward the bird.
“Funny you should ask,” Claudette says with a chuckle. “The Athabascans revered them as a symbol of good luck and protection.
“Their ability to thrive in extreme conditions speaks to resilience and adaptability, qualities you and Tiero have proven time and again since you met.”
She leaves it at that, beaming at us. I know she’s itching to go into more detail but is holding back for Tiero’s sake.
He’s been warming up to her and her esoteric wisdom, though he’d never admit it.
I glance at the bird one last time, glad it showed up today. After all the curveballs of the past few months, I’ll take every good sign for a happy future we can get.
“I can’t believe we have to wait five days before we can pick up our marriage license,” I grumble as Tiero and I step out of the registry office and saunter hand in hand down the street. It’s illuminated by the warm glow of twinkling fairy lights and the occasional storefront sign.
“It normally only takes three, you know,” I continue, glancing up at the darkened sky.
While we were meeting with Mr. Roberts, the man holding our wedding fate in his hands, snowflakes began to fall, adding to the layer that’s been steadily building over the past week.
“The holidays slow things down. It will be alright,” Tiero reassures me. On what grounds, I have no idea.
“We’re cutting it close. What if one of those checks they’re running flags our IDs as fake?”
“They won’t. You keep telling me Freemont Security is the best. Our new identities are watertight.”
It’s the first time our new names are being put to the test. What if they don’t hold up?
“Stop worrying, angel. We’ll pick up the license from that clerk on the twenty-seventh. That’s four days before we need it.”
“Hmm,” I agree noncommittally. “Isn’t it strange that we have to collect it from his house?”
“Not really. It’s a miracle he’s working at all between Christmas and New Year’s. And if he’s working from home, we won’t have to drive as far.”
He pulls me closer when a group of teenagers strolls by, laughing loudly.
“Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t try to bribe him,” I say, snuggling up against him.
“There was no need. Plus, we’re trying to live by the book these days, aren’t we?” Tiero asks, grinning at me.
He looks so damn handsome when he smiles like that. It still has the power to make my heart flutter.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page with this. It wouldn’t—”
“Ella, Ella, Ella,” Claudette singsongs from somewhere behind us.
Tiero and I turn as she almost dances toward us.
Grabbing my hand, she pulls me away from my husband-to-be. He draws his brows together, reminding me of the stern Mafia boss I got to know after my kidnapping.
Ignoring him completely, Claudette tugs me in the direction she came from.
“Hurry, darling. The shop is about to close, and you have to see it.”
“See what?” I ask as I stumble after her.
“The perfect wed—” She cuts herself off when she notices Tiero following. He’s a step behind us and hasn’t let go of my hand.
“You can’t come,” she says pointedly.
Oh my, she’s brave.
Tiero straightens to his full height, his expression turning ice-cold. Geez, he certainly hasn’t lost his ability to intimidate.
“I’m not letting Ella out of my sight,” he declares, his voice firm, brooking no opposition.
That tone might work on anyone else, just not Claudette. She rolls her eyes.
“Nothing will happen to her. We’re just down the street. Why don’t you wait in that coffee shop?”
She points to a storefront. Its inviting glow spills onto the snow-covered sidewalk. The windows are frost-kissed, and a hum of laughter and clinking cups drifts out.
“No,” he says, not taking his eyes off us.
She sighs, exasperated, and I watch, amused.
These two are as stubborn as each other, and not a day goes by without them clashing.
I often feel like I’m watching a tennis match, my head turning from one to the other during their intense but usually eerily calm exchanges.
“It’s bad luck for you to see what I’m about to show Ella. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”
Oh? My brows lift, my interest piqued.
There’s only one thing a groom isn’t meant to see before the wedding.
Has Claudette found me a dress?
Here, in Homer, Alaska?
No way.