"They might. But they'll also understand the love behind every choice we make."
A burst of laughter from the square draws our attention, and we see Signora Ricci demonstrating some elaborate dance move to a group of delighted tourists while her husband plays accordion nearby.
"She's completely in her element," I observe.
"You gave her that. You gave all of them that."
"We gave them that."
"Our first project as husband and wife."
"And now our second project will be raising a little Benedetti to carry on what we've built."
"Boy or girl, what do you hope for?"
I consider this, watching the children play below. "Healthy. Loved. Strong enough to handle the complexity of their inheritance, but kind enough to see the beauty in it too."
"Like their mother."
He pulls me closer, and we stand together watching our village celebrate traditions that might have been lost forever if not for a desperate municipal program to sell houses for one euro and an optimistic American who thought tourism could save the world.
"Any regrets?" he asks, the same question he's asked me dozens of times over the past months.
"About which part? The husband who turned out to be a criminal, the village that needed saving, or the baby we're about to bring into this beautiful, complicated mess?"
"Any of it."
I think about the question seriously, as I always do. About the woman I was eight months ago - scared, restless, living a safebut meaningless life in Seattle. About the choices that led me here, the risks I took, the dangers I've accepted.
About the love I found in the most unexpected place with the most unexpected person.
"No," I say finally, my hand resting on my stomach where our child is growing. "No regrets. This is exactly the life I was meant to live."
"And that sometimes the most beautiful things come from the most unlikely places."
"Like one-euro houses and criminal empires."
The music below shifts to something slower, more romantic, and couples begin pairing off for dancing. I watch Enzo's men - dangerous, hardened criminals - tenderly dancing with their wives and daughters under the stars.
"Dance with me," I say suddenly.
"Here?"
"Here. Now. Before we go down and join them."
He takes my hand and pulls me into a slow dance on our terrace, the sounds of celebration drifting up from our village below. The ring on my finger catches the light from the festival, and I think about how much has changed since the night he slipped it on.
We're married now. Truly, legally, completely. The ceremony was small but perfect. Held in the village church with everyone in Monte Vento in attendance. Even some of my family came, charmed despite themselves by the village and its traditions, if not entirely comfortable with my choice in husbands.
"What are you thinking about?" Enzo asks as we sway together.
"How none of this was what I planned when I bought Giuseppe's house."
"Plans are overrated."
"Says the man who plans everything five moves in advance."
"Some things are too important for planning. Some things require faith."
