Epilogue
‘AND here. We put the last sprig of holly just…so. See? And just one more little tug of the scarlet ribbon—and our Christmas wreath is all ready to surprise Papa.’
‘Surprise Papa! Surprise Papa!’ squealed Chiara and clapped her little hands together. ‘Papa loves Christmas!’
‘So he does,’ agreed Cassie, smiling down into her daughter’s wide ebony eyes, which so reminded her of Giancarlo’s. ‘He adores Christmas.’
‘But it wasn’t always that way,’ came a deep voice from the doorway, and in walked Giancarlo—flakes of snow melting on his raven hair as he scooped up his beloved four-year-old daughter and held her close. ‘Papa used to hate Christmas.’
‘Papa cold,’ Chiara complained, but she snuggled into him all the same. ‘Why did you hate Christmas?’
Over the ebony tumble of his daughter’s curls, Giancarlo looked at Cassie across the room, his heart melting just like the snow as he studied her.
Her hair was shorter these days, but she still wore it in a single plait if she was busy, and her figure was just as trim, in her low-cut jeans and emerald sweater.
His eyes lingered on the sweater for a fraction of a beat longer than usual and then he slanted her a soft smile.
‘Because I hadn’t met your mother then,’ he said softly.
‘And I worked too hard to enjoy things like Christmas. And I needed her to show me all the things in life that were really important. Like the wreath she makes with you every year—and the mince-pies she bakes. And the way she builds sandcastles when we go to the seaside.’ But more than that, he thought—and much more than Christmas—it was the warm and loving home which she had created for the three of them.
‘How are you, cara?’ questioned Cassie softly. ‘Looking forward to the nativity play later?’
‘I can’t wait,’ he murmured. ‘To see my daughter dressed as an angel. I call that perfect type-casting. And do you know that the snow is coming down really heavily now?’
‘Snow!’ gurgled Chiara.
‘I love snow,’ said Cassie happily.
‘Surprise, surprise,’ he whispered as, still holding his daughter, he walked over to plant a kiss on his wife’s lips.
Cassie breathed in the warm, earthy scent of him, thinking that life was so good it couldn’t possibly get any better. But it did. It just kept getting better every day.
Following the scare of her bleed when she was pregnant with Chiara, she had spent the rest of her pregnancy resting so much that she had complained of feeling like a whale.
And after the baby was born—and after much discussion—they had moved to a smaller house, which was more manageable.
They still lived in Kensington—but Cassie had been adamant that she only wanted drop-in staff from then on.
That the close-knit family unit she envisaged didn’t involve live-in staff.
But she worked out a way to ensure that everyone was happy—even Gina. Actually, especially Gina.
After Chiara was born, Cassandra and Giancarlo purchased a small farm in Umbria and installed Gina there to look after it—because she had confessed that she’d been longing to go back to her native Italy.
The housekeeper quickly settled into the simple way of rural life—and it just so happened that she became very friendly with a widower who lived in the nearby village.
Not only did they marry—but Gina also defied the odds by producing a healthy baby boy at the ripe old age of forty-four!
Cassie’s mother had also moved into a new phase of life.
She’d given up the ties and the isolation of running a B&B and had taken over her daughter’s job in Patsy’s shop.
She’d added choir practice to her salsa classes and made new friends and, for the first time since her beloved husband had died, she really felt like part of the community again.
Raul and Gabriella had divorced—Raul had won custody and shed about eight years while his ex-wife quickly remarried.
Her new husband was a cat-litter billionaire who lived in some style in Santa Barbara and, although Cassie sometimes worried that Allegra didn’t get to see enough of her mother, she had her niece to stay as often as possible.
And Chiara loved her big cousin. In fact, Allegra hoped to go to art school in London and she and her father were both coming to spend Christmas this year.
Cassie had learnt that of course Giancarlo’s friends liked her. She just had to give them a chance to get to know her—and she needed to stop judging them. In fact, Serafina was Chiara’s godmother and she and Cassie had become good friends.
Even Gavin had grudgingly admitted that Giancarlo was ‘totally right’ for Cassie after all.
He had left London after he’d inherited some money and gone back down to Cornwall, where he’d bought a surf-school.
Last time they’d heard from him he’d been madly in love with a Californian blonde who he said made him think of milk and honey.
Cassie smiled. Life was pretty much perfect. In fact, she could think of only one thing which could possibly top her happiness…
She waited until after the nativity play, when the three of them had walked through the snowy, silent streets still humming ‘Silent Night’ beneath their breath.
And Giancarlo went to put his daughter to bed and to read her a story while Cassie produced a pasta meal which she had learnt at her Italian cookery class.
She was also learning the language—and she sighed.
If only it were as easy to conjugate Italian verbs as it was to make a fresh pesto sauce!
She heard the sound of footsteps behind her and felt a pair of lips begin to nuzzle at her neck as she bent over the stove, and her heart speeded up as she turned round to wind her arms around her husband’s neck.
Their marriage had—thus far—been pretty much perfect, too. Once Giancarlo had dared to let himself love, there had been no holding him back. These days honest communication flowed between them as well as mutual respect. And the passion which had always been there showed no sign of diminishing.
The only slight setback was their desire to add to their family.
When Chiara reached the age of two, they decided to try for another baby, but it just hadn’t happened.
A visit to the doctor had assured Cassie that there was no reason why it shouldn’t and they should just carry on hoping.
But as time had gone on and no new baby had made an appearance they had decided to count their blessings and be grateful for what they had.
After all, they had one beautiful little girl and knew how lucky they were.
But Giancarlo’s expression was thoughtful as he lifted his lips from hers and moved her away from the stove.
‘Something you want to tell me, cara?’
Cassie eyed him suspiciously. ‘Like what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Why your eyes are shining so much more than usual. Why you keep biting your lip as if you want to tell me something but don’t quite dare.’ His eyes glinted. ‘And why your breasts look so deliciously curvy these days.’
‘Giancarlo!’
‘Are you?’ he questioned softly. ‘Are you pregnant?’
‘Yes. Yes! I wanted to wait until it was all confirmed—I’ve seen the doctor and she’s as happy as a bee. Says that everything is just as it should be. But that’s not all.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘There’s something else. Something I can hardly believe. Darling, it’s…it’s…’
‘It’s what, Cassandra?’ he demanded urgently.
‘It runs in families—and it’s happening to us. It’s twins, Giancarlo—twins!’
‘Twins?’ His voice was dazed.
‘Uh-huh!’ She squealed as excitedly as her daughter but Giancarlo was silent for a moment.
He’d made a lot of mistakes in his own relationship with his brother, but at least now they had been properly reconciled.
And he could teach his own children the importance of love and understanding.
He could teach them well because he’d learnt from the finest teacher in the business. His beloved wife.
‘Oh, cara,’ he said softly as he stared down into her soft violet eyes. ‘Te amo.’
These days Cassie recognised the Italian words he’d whispered to her that night in Rome, when she’d felt so broken and confused—all warped by jealousy and insecurity.
How liberating it was to be free of all those negative emotions—to be free to love Giancarlo as she had always longed to love him.
‘I love you, too,’ she whispered back. ‘So much.’
Her head resting on his shoulder, their fingers entwined, they began to move around the kitchen—almost as if they were dancing.
And maybe they were.
There was no music playing but they didn’t really need any—for they were guided by love and the slow, steady beat of their hearts.