Liana doesn't flinch under Nonna's scrutiny, meeting her eyes directly with a confidence I admire. "Yes, Nonna. I made him work very hard for it. He's probably still recovering."
"Good," Nonna says with satisfaction, taking Liana's hand in both of hers and patting it with surprising gentleness. "The Marcello men need to work for what they get. Keeps them humble and reminds them that women are not property to be acquired but partners to be earned. My own husband had tocourt me for two years before I agreed to marry him, and he spent the rest of his life grateful that I finally said yes." She looks at me with knowing eyes. "You're a lucky boy, Santino. Luckier than you probably even realize yet."
"I know, Nonna," I say honestly, glancing at Liana and feeling that surge of gratitude and wonder that's been constant since she showed up at my poker game. "I know exactly how lucky I am."
"Don't mess it up," Nonna warns, her voice taking on that edge of steel that reminds everyone why she's been the true power behind the Marcello family for decades. "Don't take her for granted or forget what you had to do to win her or think that marriage means the work is over. The work is just beginning. Every day, you choose her again. Every day, you earn the right to be her husband. Understand?"
"Yes, Nonna," I promise, meaning every word. "I won't mess it up."
She studies my face for a long moment, then nods with satisfaction. "See that you don't." She pulls Liana down closer, kissing both her cheeks with the kind of warmth she reserves for people she's decided to love. "Welcome to the family. And thank you for the offer to move in with you, but I’m happy living alone. Now go dance with your husband and let an old woman watch you and remember what it felt like when she was your age."
I lead Liana to the dance floor, which is currently empty and waiting for us to begin the celebration properly with our first dance as husband and wife. The band starts playing something slow and romantic, a classic Italian love song.
I pull my wife—my wife, I'm never going to get tired of thinking that—into my arms, one hand on her waist and the other holding her hand, our bodies finding the rhythm together as naturally as breathing.
"Your Nonna is wonderful," Liana says as we sway together, moving in perfect synchronization like we've been dancing together for years. "Fierce and loving and completely terrifying in the best possible way."
"She likes you," I tell her, watching the way the candlelight plays across her face and makes her eyes sparkle. "That's high praise that she doesn't give lightly or often. She doesn't like anyone who doesn't earn it, and she's made grown men cry with her disapproval."
"I'm honored to have earned her approval," Liana says, resting her head on my shoulder in a gesture of contentment that makes my heart squeeze. "And maybe a little terrified of losing it."
We sway together in comfortable silence for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of being this close, of being able to hold each other without pretense or fear.
"How are you feeling about all this?" I ask quietly, my lips close to her ear. "About being married and starting this new chapter of our lives?"
"Happy," she murmurs, her breath warm against my neck. "Incredibly, impossibly, ridiculously happy in a way I didn't think was possible for someone like me. Happy in a way that makes me understand why people write songs and poems about love."
"Me too," I admit, tightening my hold on her slightly. "So happy it's almost frightening."
"And terrified," she adds, pulling back slightly to look at me with those dark eyes that see through every defense I've ever built.
"Terrified?" I repeat, studying her face for signs of doubt that might make her regret this decision.
"That I'll wake up and discover this is all a dream," she explains, her voice carrying a vulnerability I don't hear from her often. "That you'll change your mind once the excitement wears off and realize you made a mistake marrying someone as difficult as me. That the reality of being married to me won't live up to whatever fantasy you built in your head during our courtship."
I stop dancing, right there in the middle of the floor with everyone watching, because this is too important to address while we're moving.
I frame her face with both hands, making sure she's looking directly at me and can see the absolute truth in my eyes. "Not a dream," I say firmly, leaving no room for doubt. "This is real—you're real, we're real, everything we feel is real. And I'm never changing my mind about you, not when things get hard or complicated or difficult. I didn't marry you because I thought you were easy. You're stuck with me now, Mrs. Marcello, through all the good and bad and complicated and messy that comes with building a life together."
She studies my face like she's looking for cracks in my certainty, but I know she won't find any because I've never been more sure of anything in my entire life.
"I’m glad," she finally says, that beautiful smile breaking across her face like sunrise. "Because I plan to be absolutely impossible to deal with at least half the time."
"I'm counting on it," I assure her, pulling her back into my arms and resuming our dance. "Wouldn't want it any other way. Easy is boring. And you, Liana Marcello, are the most interesting thing that's ever happened to me."
We keep dancing as the song continues, swaying together while around us the room fills with other people—our families watching with pride and happiness, friends finding their seatsand raising glasses in impromptu toasts, the photographer circling like a shark looking for perfect candid moments to capture.
I catch glimpses of my father talking with Dominic in what looks like a genuine conversation rather than the tense negotiation that colored every interaction during the alliance marriage discussions. The two Dons are standing together like colleagues who've found unexpected common ground, no longer negotiating a business deal but simply two fathers watching their children find happiness.
Mama and Elena have their heads together, undoubtedly crying again about how beautiful everything is and how perfect we are together and probably already planning hypothetical grandchildren that neither Liana nor I are ready to think about yet.
Gia is dancing with one of my cousins. From the way they're laughing together and the way Gia keeps touching his arm, maybe this wedding will result in more than one happy couple by the end of the night.
And Nonna watches it all from her seat of honor, that small knowing smile on her face that says she's satisfied with how this turned out, pleased that her grandson has found the kind of partnership she had with my grandfather.
The song ends, and the band transitions smoothly into the traditional father-daughter dance. I step back as Dominic approaches, offering his hand to Liana with visible emotion.
I watch them dance, Dominic holding his daughter carefully, speaking quietly to her while she rests her head on his shoulder. Whatever he's saying makes her cry happy tears.
