by T. K. Leigh
“Tell me!” I urged, louder this time.
She studied me. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but only if you finally admit that I may have a gift, that these visions may be real.”
“Mila…”
“Say it, Ellie.”
I narrowed my gaze at her, wanting to tell her she was crazy, but I couldn’t. Not after the past six months.
“Fine!” I exclaimed finally. “You may actually have a gift. Okay?”
She surveyed my demeanor, seeming to debate whether my acknowledgment was sufficient enough, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll tell you.” She leaned against the island, sipping her wine. “I had a vision of your next Christmas. You had a beautiful tree, decorated in golds and silvers and reds. It was set in this rustic house. There were lots of whites and beige tones, but the ceiling had stunning exposed beams running along the length.”
I slowly turned my attention away from the pan, struggling to hide my shock. I’d never shared what Dante’s Tuscan villa looked like, yet here Mila was, describing its décor perfectly.
“There were presents everywhere. Beatrice and Giuseppe were there with their little boys, and so were over a dozen other people, speaking in Italian. And you spoke it with them, albeit a bit timidly. Your father and Lauren were there. So was James. They were all gathered around this breathtaking tree, saying what they were thankful for. When it was your turn, you looked down, and that’s when I realized you were holding a little bundle in your arms.”
“A bundle?” I asked, swallowing hard through the lump in my throat.
“Yes, Ellie. A little girl with a full head of dark hair. You’ll finally have what you’ve always deserved.” Mila wrapped her arms around me, pulling me in tightly. “Love. Happiness. Family.”
~~~~~~~~~~
I LOOKED AROUND THE great room at over a dozen faces talking animatedly amongst themselves, enjoying a few cookies after having eaten more food than was necessary. Never in a million years would I have envisioned myself here, in a house I owned with the man I hoped to spend the rest of my life with, surrounded by people I genuinely cared about, and vice versa. I was so accustomed to attending dinners and parties where the sole purpose was to earn favor with some high-power executive or politician. To be able to host my own gathering on Christmas Eve with important people in both Dante’s and my life meant more to me than anyone would ever know.
Wrapping paper was strewn all over the floor, both Mila’s and Beatrice’s kids having ravaged the presents we’d set aside for them to open tonight. It was remarkable watching the four of them interact, despite the language barrier. That didn’t matter to them. Luca and Angelo had even picked up some English, just like Ashlyn and Harley had learned some Italian phrases. I hoped these four would form a life-long bond. Based on how seamlessly they all played together with the Legos Luca had gotten, I had a feeling they already had.
“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Dante asked, wrapping his arm around me as we sat on the couch, enjoying a bit of wine.
“It does. This is exactly what I always imagined it would be like.”
He grabbed my chin, forcing my eyes to his. “Thank you for letting me give you the Christmas of your dreams, for choosing me.”
I clutched his cheeks, pulling his lips toward me. “It wasn’t even a choice. There never was with you.”
“I love you, Eleanor Jean.”
“And I love you, Dante Pietro.”
“Merry Christmas, passerotta.” He brought my mouth toward his.
“Buon Natale, amore mio.”
Our lips brushed together. Though the kiss was simple, it still sent a spark to my core in a way only Dante’s kisses had been able to do. This was the time most people looked back upon the past year and reflected on everything. I had never felt thankful for much. Yes, I had always been provided for in terms of material things, but I never had what was most important…love. Now I did, and I would be eternally grateful that fate, destiny, God finally blessed me with the love of a family.
“We need to take off,” a deep voice cut through. Dante and I snapped our heads up to see James and Lauren standing there, my father in a wheelchair in front of them. At first, I wasn’t sure what name to call her, but she insisted that Cynthia Edelman remain dead, that she was finally free to be Lauren Hall again.
“Let us walk you out.” Dante slowly lifted himself from the couch, wincing slightly in discomfort. I stood and helped him maintain his balance, then handed him his crutch. Once he had his footing, we walked toward the entrance. I smiled at Lauren, grateful to have her in my life.
“Thanks for inviting us,” she said as we approached the front door.
“Yes. Thank you,” James added, giving us a sincere look. “For everything. For opening up your home and your lives to us these past several weeks.”
“Why wouldn’t we? You’re family,” I responded, meeting Lauren’s eyes, then glancing at James. “You all are.”
“Yes, you are,” Dante agreed.
It took a while for Dante to fully accept James as part of his life, but after he’d been at the hospital nearly every day, even making sure to stop by our house just as often once he’d been discharged, the animosity he’d harbored toward James slowly chipped away. I’d even walked into Dante’s office one day to see both men sitting on the couch, looking over photos Dante had of Gabriella and Lilly, the two of them sharing stories. Despite everything we’d both lost the past several months, we’d also gained a great deal. Dante had James. I had my real parents back in my life, as well as two half-sisters I’d been lucky enough to spend time getting to know.
“Before I take off, I wanted you to have this.” Lauren retrieved a t-shirt sized box from beneath my father’s wheelchair and held it out.
“You didn’t have to get me anything. We were just doing presents for the kids.”
“I know. But I wanted you to have it.”
I met her hazel eyes, then returned my attention to the box, staring at it. It was such a small gesture, one that probably wasn’t a huge deal to her, but this was the first time someone other than Mila had gotten me a Christmas present. It wasn’t about material things. I didn’t care about those. It was nice to know someone thought of me, though.
Sliding my finger under the green and red wrapping, I ripped the paper off the box. Dad took it from me and I lifted the lid, peeling back the tissue. My lips parted as I stared down at a faded pink and white striped knit blanket. I ran my fingers over the yarn, the texture reminding me of kisses, laughter, love.
“I started knitting that when I found out you were a girl. I had horrible heartburn that sometimes kept me up half the night, so I’d knit to take my mind off everything. Everyone said you’d be born with a lot of hair because of the heartburn…if you believe those kinds of things. And you certainly were. You had a full head of dark hair, the cutest little nose, and the most perfect pink lips. After everything that happened, after being forced out of your life, I almost threw this blanket out. It was the only reminder I had of you, and it hurt so much.” She swiped at the tears falling down her cheeks. “But I didn’t. I guess a part of me hoped we’d eventually be reunited and I’d be able to give this to you so you could use it for your own baby one day.”
Words seeming completely inadequate to properly convey how much this gift meant to me, I flung my arms around her, hugging her. “Thank you so much. I love you…” I hesitated, then added, “Mom.”
She stilled, then melted into me. “I’ve been waiting too long to hear those words come out of your mouth.”
I looked past her to see unshed tears forming at the corner of my father’s eyes and squatted, wrapping an arm around him, as well. He kissed the top of my head, then Lauren’s temple, squeezing both of us tightly.
“Me, too,” I said through the lump in my throat. “Me, too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ANTONIO NAVIGATED THROUGH THE fevered traffic, the breathtaking architecture of Rome zooming by as I sat in the back of the dark se
dan. When Dante’s hand wrapped around mine, I glanced to my left, smiling. Bringing it to my lips, I placed a soft kiss on his knuckles, then exhaled a contented sigh, feeling as if I’d finally arrived home after a nearly thirty-year absence.
While I was hesitant to follow-through on my plan to move to Italy with Dante, particularly with everything my father had been through, I knew he was in good hands, that Lauren would look after him. She promised to do as much during a small ceremony on the beach just a week ago. I’d never seen my father as happy as he was when she pledged to be his wife. He and Lauren finally had their fresh start, and I finally had mine, too, albeit after a longer than anticipated delay.
Antonio brought the car to a stop and I peered out the window, noticing we were parked in front of Dante’s restaurant. I glanced at him, seeing a boyish smirk on his face.
“Any particular reason we’re here?”
He winked. “You’ll see.” He stepped out of the car, hurrying to my side. While he wasn’t back to being one hundred percent just yet, he was finally able to move around with little discomfort. And he certainly showed absolutely no sign of any impairment in the bedroom. He was back to being the Dante who’d opened my eyes, who’d invaded my soul, who’d given me my wings.
My door opened and he held his hand out. I placed mine in it and stood, caught by surprise when he tugged my body against his. Draping my arm over his shoulder, I played with the curls hanging over his collar.
“How does it feel to be in Italy knowing this is your home, now and forevermore?” he asked, brushing his lips against mine.
“Like I’m exactly where I was always meant to be,” I answered honestly.
“Me, too, amore mio.” He pressed his mouth against mine, treating me to a full kiss, then pulled back.
“Come.” He held his elbow out for me. I looped my arm through his, tugging my jacket tighter around me as we walked through the crisp February air. While the temperatures weren’t freezing, it was still chilly for someone who’d grown up in Southern California.
“Still the same Eleanor you were when we first walked this path together back in June,” Dante mused. “Still think anything below twenty degrees is cold.”
“Still the same Dante you were, too. Still quoting temperatures in terms of Celsius.”
He smiled, his eyes bright as he looked down at me. “If I had it to do all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. I’d still quote temperatures in terms of Celsius.”
I felt a blush bloom on my cheeks, a warmth running through me as we turned the corner toward the Trevi Fountain, the sight like coming home again after too long of an absence. “And I’d still proposition you for a one-night stand.”
“I’d still ask you to stay with me for the week,” he continued, his voice becoming more sincere.
“And I’d still say yes.”
He stopped walking, peering down at me.
“I’ll always say yes, Dante. Sempre e per sempre.”
“Sempre e per sempre,” he replied with a smile.
I saw the faint flicker of camera flashes, but unlike the first time Dante brought me here, I ignored them. I’d grown accustomed to them over the past several months, especially with Marjorie’s criminal trial starting soon and the news that the prosecutor would be seeking the death penalty. Cameras and reporters no longer bothered me.
Dante cleared his throat, cutting through the building tension. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, then he grabbed my hand and pulled me through the crowd of people who had come to see the Trevi Fountain and throw their coins in it. As we approached the ledge, the sea of onlookers seemed to part, giving us space.
My heart drummed in my chest, every inch of me alive with anticipation and excitement, remembering what Dante had shared with me when he thought he was moments away from death. With a smile and a sparkle in his eyes, he released his hold on me, turning to face me. He drew in a deep breath. I could feel his nerves, the energy buzzing between us.
Reaching into his pocket, he stared intently into my eyes, his gaze unwavering. “So what’ll it be, Eleanor? One, two, or three coins?” He opened his fist, revealing three fifty-cent Euro coins sitting in his palm.
Keeping my eyes glued to his, I began to reach for the coins, then stopped. “We were just talking about how, if we had it to do all over again, we wouldn’t change a thing,” I began. “The past two times we stood here, in this very spot, I took one coin to throw into the fountain.”
He simply nodded, licking his lips as he seemed to absorb every word.
“Not anymore. I would never just throw one coin into the fountain again. Not now that I know you, that I know how empty my life is without you.” Smiling, I reached for his outstretched hand, taking all three coins. “From this moment forward, I’ll always hope for wedding bells.”
Turning my back toward the fountain, I closed my eyes, tossing the coins over my shoulder into the pool behind me. A loud gasp ripped through the crowd, coupled with a few voices saying “Dio mio”. I immediately opened my eyes, wondering if I’d hit someone. Then I saw what had caused the crowd to react that way.
Dante had told me about his plan for this moment, but words couldn’t describe just how magical, beautiful, and perfect it was to open my eyes and peer down at this man kneeling before me, his gaze focused on mine, an open ring box in his hand.
I sucked in a breath, covering my mouth with my hand to hide my quivering chin. Tears welled in my eyes, a lump forming in my throat. More and more people assembled around us, but I didn’t see any of them. All I saw was Dante. And I knew he’d be the only man I’d ever see for the rest of my life.
“The first time I saw you, a strange feeling ripped through me,” he began, his voice deep, soft, endearing. “We were in the first-class lounge. You were nervously tapping your nails on the table and constantly looking at the clock. I was nursing my third scotch. As I raised my drink to my lips, I smelled something other than liquor. I smelled lilies.”
I choked out a sob, struggling to reel in the tears steadily streaming down my face.
“Now I know it was a sign. It was Lilly’s way of saying you were the one for me. As much as I didn’t want to believe it, she was right. You are the only woman for me. And you have been since the day you propositioned me for a one-night stand.”
A smile lit up my face at the memory of our unconventional beginnings.
“I know you haven’t had the easiest life, but I promise to do everything in my power to make you laugh, to make you smile, to make you feel loved. I promise to do everything I can not to wake you up with my snores, to rub your feet every night, and to always leave the toilet seat down. But mostly, I promise to love you, to treat you like the goddess you are, to do everything I can to be the man of your dreams. So please, Eleanor Jean Crenshaw, let me worship you, let me love you.” He licked his lips, swallowing hard. “Let me marry you.”
He barely got the last few words out before I yanked him to his feet, flinging my arms around him and pressing my lips against his. He stilled momentarily, then melted into the kiss, our tongues tangling as we savored this moment, standing in front of the Trevi Fountain, onlookers snapping our photo, pledging ourselves to each other for the rest of our lives.
“Is that a yes?” he asked when I pulled away.
“That’s a yes,” I answered with a smile, bringing my left hand up so he could slide the ring on it. I beamed as I stared at the princess cut diamond surrounded by a band of smaller stones, the light of the sun making it sparkle. “It’s perfect.”
“You deserve nothing less,” he said, leaning toward me, his lips ghosting against mine. “For the rest of our lives.” He took my hand in his, toying with the ring as he kissed me once more, filling me with hope, faith, and love.
It was only fitting that this was the place where we pledged to honor and respect each other. It was where it all began for us. On that clear night in June all those months ago when a handsome, mysterious stranger asked me how many coins
I wanted to throw into the fountain, never would I have imagined I’d be standing here eight months later with his ring on my finger.
I’d come to Italy to figure out who I was as a person. Dante showed me who that was back then.
And, even to this day, I constantly saw myself anew every time he looked at me with that devotion, that yearning, that admiration in his eyes. In his eyes was my heart, my family, my home.
I was finally home.
EPILOGUE
Ten Months Later
Dante
OVER THE YEARS, I’VE come to regret many things. The irrational fights I got into with my mother when she tried to confront me about my drug problem. Not doing more to make sure Ali was okay after Lilly died. Working too much when Lilly was alive.
But I do not regret doing everything in my power to keep Eleanor safe, even if that meant keeping information from her. True, lies were the foundation of our relationship, but the walls were filled with love, a roof of memories keeping us warm.
Everything happens for a reason. If one thing were different, if I refused to swallow my pride and finally work with my father to get to the truth behind Lilly’s death, if Bradley didn’t put his own life on the line, if Francis didn’t do everything he could to keep both Lauren and Eleanor safe, I wouldn’t be sitting in the darkness, the moon shining into a room that used to cause me nothing but pain and anguish, humming “Edelweiss” to my second chance, my hope for a future, my promise to be a better man.
A breeze blows through the room, the aroma of honey and powder invading my senses. I lift my head, a warmth washing over me when I see my Eleanor’s silhouette standing in the doorway, the long silk robe covering her body making her look like an angel.
“Hey,” she whispers, padding toward me with light steps.
“Hey,” I murmur, gingerly standing from the rocking chair so as not to wake up the sleeping beauty in my arms.
