"Well, yeah. You don't think we're stopping at one, do you?"
The casual way he talks about our future with multiple children makes tears come to my eyes.
"Keep going," I say. “I want to hear more.”
"Six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a library, a music room for when you want to play piano again. There's a nursery with windows that face east so the baby will get morning light. And the master suite has a fireplace and a balcony that overlooks the gardens."
"Gardens?"
"Formal Italian gardens. I thought your mother might like to help design them. You told me once that she likes flowers."
I stare at him, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of it all. "You really planned this out."
"I've been planning this since the day after our engagement was announced. I wanted everything to be perfect for when we start our married life."
"And if I hate it?"
"Then we'll find something else. But you won't hate it." His confidence is absolute. "It's perfect for us, Viviana. I know it is."
"When do I get to see it?"
"When we get back from our honeymoon. It should be finished being furnished by then."
I lie back down beside him, processing this new information. Our own villa. The place where we'll raise our children and build our life together.
"There's something else," he says.
"What now? Did you buy me a private jet too?"
"I talked to your father about you finishing your education."
That gets my attention. "What do you mean?"
"You wanted to be a teacher, right? There's no reason you can't still do that if you want to.”
I turn to stare at him. "You talked to Papa about me going back to school?"
"I talked to him about you having choices. About this marriage being the beginning of your life, not the end of it."
"And what did he say?"
"He said it was up to you. And up to me to support whatever you decide."
Tears prick at my eyes. Throughout all of this—the pregnancy, the engagement, the wedding—I never once considered that I might still have options. That being Mrs. Lombardi didn't have to mean giving up everything I wanted for myself.
"Why is this important to you?"
"Because I didn't fall in love with the idea of a perfect mafia wife. I fell in love with you. The woman who climbs out windows and argues with me and has opinions about everything." He cups my face in his hands. "I don't want to change you, Viviana. I want to give you space to become whoever you want to be."
"Even if that's someone completely different from what your family expects?"
"Especially then."
I kiss him, pouring all my gratitude and love and hope for our future into the gesture.
"I love you," I whisper against his lips. "So much it scares me sometimes."
"Good scared or bad scared?"
