Behind me, the door creaks open again. I don't have to turn. I know the weight of that presence anywhere.
"Gianna."
I turn slowly. Vito stands in the doorway in a dark, sharply tailored suit. His hair is slicked back, his expression is unreadable at first, calm, composed, but something flickers in his eyes. Pride, maybe. A touch of emotion he is too stubborn to show. I look back at the window, and both Finn and James are gone. Everyone has dispersed.
"You're ready?" he asks, his voice low.
I hesitate, glancing back once in the mirror. The reflection staring back at me is no longer the scared girl. She is a woman.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I say, meeting his eyes. I won't let anything or anyone ruin this day for me.
"I'll meet you both in there," Rina says, looking at us both with so much pride and joy. The look only the woman who'd fought for me through all of this could give.
I smile at her and nod.
Vito steps forward, offering his arm. "The Irish boy is waiting." I smile, slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow.His body is warm. "I bet you never saw this day coming?" I tease him, leaning closer to him.
"The Irish boy isn't that bad," Vito says with a grunt, and I chuckle. That's the closest to a compliment Finn will ever get.
"He has a name, you know," I say, as we walk, trying to take the edge off me.
"I prefer the term Irish boy," he answers.
We stop at the entrance of the greenhouse, the massive glass doors pulled open before us. For a moment, everything goes quiet. The hum of the music, the soft shuffle of guests adjusting in their seats, and the clicking of champagne glasses — it all blurs into the background. I can see the inside from here, bright with natural light, the scent of blossoms floating towards me like soft whispers of summer.
"You look beautiful, Gianna," Vito says beside me. I turn to him, and for the first time in a long while, he isn't wearing the hardened mask he's always hidden behind. His eyes are softer and warm.
"I'm proud of you too," he adds, his voice thick despite how hard he tries to swallow it down. I give his arm a little squeeze.
"Thank you, Vito," I whisper.
Then the music shifts, slow and graceful, with soft piano notes twined with distant violin. We step inside. The trail beneath me is soft, a white floral runner laid along the stone path. My dress sweeps over it with each step, delicate lace trailing behind like water. Vito moves in sync with me. Behind us, I can hear the faint rustle of movement, my train being gently adjusted by the coordinator who follows a few steps back.
But it is the greenhouse that truly takes my breath away. It is transformed into a dream, looking better than the last time I saw it. Sunlight pours through the towering glass walls. Every corner blooms with arrangements of peonies, roses, and many other flowers. The air is thick with the scent of sweet freesia.
And the people...
It is a strange sight. Italians on one side, Irish on the other. The men are in crisp suits, women in fine dresses, some visibly nervous, others watching with silent interest. Dark eyes. Pale hands gripping glasses of expensive whiskey. The atmosphere is tense. As I walk in, I catch familiar faces that have watched me grow, that had once doubted me, protected me, betrayed me, and stood by me.
Halfway down the aisle, my eyes find Sofia. She sits near the end of the Italian side, her hair pinned in soft waves, a shiny dress wrapped around her like it's been stitched to her frame. Dante is beside her, his hand resting over hers on her knee, steady and quiet the way he always is with her. She meets my eyes and gives a single, slow nod. A rush of comfort floods through my chest.
A few steps more, and I see Rina, sitting beside Elena. Rina's grin is wide, her eyes shimmering with love. Elena, on the other hand, looks like she's trying very hard not to shout anything inappropriate. Marco sits at her side, his head tilted toward hers as he murmurs something, and whatever he says makes her press her lips together like she's suppressing a laugh. Both of them beam when they see me, and I give them a soft, grateful smile.
Elena has been on a trip for a long time and only returned a day before my wedding. It means the world to me to have her here, beside Rina, who has been here through everything. Their presence steadies me.
But as we reach the final stretch, everyone else — the crowd, the music, the guards, the tension — all fades away, because I see him. Finn.
Standing under the arch, hands folded calmly in front of him, dressed in a black tux that fits like skin, his hair is brushed back, and those green eyes lock onto me with unflinching focus.
He smiles. And in that smile is every piece of the world I would fight for. His eyes don't leave me, not even for a second. It's like he is memorizing this moment. Like he wants to burn this image of me walking towards him into his soul. I can't help but smile back.
The distance between us shortens, each step pulling us closer to the only person who has ever truly seen me. We reach the front. Vito slows, then stops. He turns to me, eyes firm and leans in. "You will always be a Rosso. Even if someone else takes the lead for now. You are always welcome home."
I nod, unable to say anything. Words would have cracked me. Vito steps back and I take the final step towards Finn, slipping my hand into his. His fingers curl around mine like they were made for it. Finn exchanges a respectful nod with Vito before he walks away.
"You look gorgeous," he whispers so only I can hear.
The officiant's voice is steady, layered with importance and tradition, but I barely hear him.
