Julie stood speechless.
He flipped open the hinge to reveal an antique gold ring with a delicate rosette in the center. It was an intricate micromosaic of hand-blown colored glass and diamond chips, painstakingly assembled in a vibrant yet subtle pattern of petals.
Julie’s heart started racing, big-time.
Sebastiano looked up from the ring and into her face. “Maybe if you took off your shoes and weren’t so much taller at this moment, I’d feel more confident about my request.” He gulped. “I’m asking you to marry me, Julie. ¿Vuoi sposarmi, Giulietta?”
Julie opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Sebastiano held up his hand. “This ring is actually from my mother. No, that’s not quite right. It’s my family’s. Her family’s, actually—a ring that’s been passed down from mother to daughter through the generations.”
“You asked your mother to bring the ring?” Julie squeaked. It appeared her voice was back, but two octaves higher.
“No, she just knew to do so. She said it was the way I talked about you, my voice. So she knew to bring it. She didn’t have a daughter. She had me. And now I’m giving it to you.”
As if to emphasize the point, Sebastiano got down on one knee. He gazed up at her but shook his head. “No, that doesn’t work. Now you’re even taller.”
Julie tugged at him to get up. “Please, I know the concrete is clean because I’m the one who mopped it with bleach, but that really isn’t necessary.”
“You may be right. The concrete is pretty hard.”
“Then you should have thought to bring one of my pillows,” she reminded him.
“I should have thought of a lot of things, but that’s another matter.” Sebastiano braced himself and slowly rose to slip the ring out of the cushion. “From me, a symbol of truth and beauty and fidelity, to the most important woman in my life.”
Julie watched as he slid the delicate ring on her left hand. The band was a little big and the flower decoration slipped to the side. She steadied it with her other hand and held it upright and true. And then she bawled big, fat, humongous tears.
“I take it that’s a yes,” Sebastiano said, a note of triumph in his voice. He took her, heaving sobs and all, into his arms. “Con amore, cara, con amore vero per sempre. With love, dear, with a true love forever.”
Julie squeezed her fingers tightly together to keep the ring from slipping off. Not that she was ever going to let that happen. “Anch’io. Me, too.” She sniffed loudly, in very unladylike fashion. “You planned to do this a ways back, didn’t you. After the flood?” she asked.
“I think I had the idea that I’d be asking you even before that. Maybe going back to when you barged into my office and into my heart. Did I ever thank you for breaking that ugly glass vase? I finally had an excuse to not display it.”
“I didn’t break it. How many times do I have to tell people. It’s only chipped,” Julie shot back.
“Yes, yes, of course, you’re right. You’re right about a lot of things. Especially me. I’m not perfect, I know that all too well. But now I can accept it and try to do better because I know that my heart is in the right place. With you at my side.”
Julie, who thought she had cried the last of her tears, felt the floodgates about to open up again. She squeezed her eyes shut and when she thought she might just have her emotions under control, risked opening them. “I will be honored to be by your side because I know that you will always have my back.”
“Provided you’re not wearing six-inch heels,” he amended.
“Don’t go there.” She pointed a warning finger in his direction. “You know, this will be the best marriage ever, provided we don’t kill each other fighting.”
“But think of all the make-up sex.” Without waiting a beat, he kissed her senseless.
When it was over, she gasped for air. “Enough,” she said, pushing away.
“Enough?” He angled his head to kiss her under the chin.
Julie could feel herself succumbing as he nibbled his way around to her earlobe, but she marshaled all her strength. “Yes, enough. Because that tap-tap-tapping that’s getting louder?”
Sebastiano stopped, blinked and listened. “Yes, I hear it.” He looked inquiringly at her.
“I’m pretty sure that’s Nonna bringing us some cake.”
Sebastiano took a step back and straightened his tie. “You’re right. But I’m pretty sure the cake is just a pretext. What she really wants is to be the first person to see the ring.”
“You think she guessed? Her spooky ESP thing?”
And that’s when they heard another sound—the triumphant warbling of Caruso.
Sebastiano looked at Julie. Julie looked at Sebastiano. “Now, that’s spooky,” she said.
“No, that’s chutzpah,” he replied.
She stared at him.
“That’s a Yiddish word for nerve,” Sebastiano explained. “Iris taught it to me.”
Julie shook her head. “I know what chutzpah means. I just didn’t expect to hear it from you.”
“Just think what you have to look forward to.”
She squeezed her fingers together, feeling the ring press against her skin, the strange sensation seeming so right. More than I ever imagined, she thought. “Oh, to hell with Nonna,” she exclaimed and threw herself at him.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0848-3
INVITATION TO ITALIAN
Copyright © 2011 by Louise Handelman
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Invitation to Italian Page 23
