He pulls back just enough to slide the ring onto my finger. It’s heavy as hell, but as I flex my hand, watching the light dance off the ridiculous diamond, I realize I don’t mind the weight at all.
“You’re crazy,” I mutter against his chest.
“Crazy about you,wife,” he fires back, and I can hear the grin in his voice.
I pull back, ready to roll my eyes at him, but then I see his face. He’s beaming, looking at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen. It knocks the wind right out of me.
“I love you,” I blurt out, surprising myself.
D’s eyes go wide for a second before his grin turns downright wolfish. “I know,” he says, and before I can smack him for the “Star Wars” reference, he’s kissing me.
The crowd’s still going nuts—cheering, whistling, clapping like they’ve never seen anything like it. But honestly? I don’t hear a damn thing. It’s all him.
I wrap my legs around his waist, arms tight around his neck, and he catches me like he always does—steady, solid, mine.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me now,” I whisper, smirking against his lips.
His grin is pure trouble. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
And then he kisses me again, the whole world fading away until it’s just us.
My husband.
The End
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Extended Epilogue
Erik
I’m perched at a café on the cliffs of Positano, the Tyrrhenian Sea stretching out before me in endless shades of blue. The town clings to the rocky coastline, a cascade of pastel-colored buildings that seem to defy gravity.
“Grazie,” I mutter as the waitress sets down my espresso. The porcelain clinks against the wrought-iron table, the sound sharp in the quiet morning air.
I let my gaze meet hers for a brief moment. A blush creeps up her neck, coloring her cheeks. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her eyes darting away and then back to me.
“Prego, signore,” she says. “Posso… posso portarle qualcos’altro?”
I allow the corner of my mouth to quirk up just slightly. “No, grazie. Questo è perfetto.”
She lingers, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. I can practically feel the heat radiating off her skin, see the rapid pulse at the base of her throat.
Without a word, I pull out a hundred-euro note, sliding it onto the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her freeze, eyes darting to the bill.
I wave her off without even glancing up.
Her lips part in disbelief before she quickly snatches the money, fingers gripping it tight. She hesitates a moment, as if she’s about to say something, but then turns on her heel.
Just before she walks away, she throws a look over her shoulder, her brows furrowed like she’s trying to figure me out. But she keeps moving, the money clutched in her hand.
Smart girl. She knows when to take what’s given and keep quiet.
My phone buzzes. Luka’s name flashes on the screen, along with a video attachment.
I consider ignoring it, but curiosity wins out.
