Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I glanced over my shoulder and back at the table. I didn’t have to stay. I could walk out now, before I broke down again. Before I gave him another opportunity to hurt me. “I don’t owe you anything,” I said, desperately wishing I could make my feet obey my head and not my heart.
“No, you don’t.” He took a step closer and cradled my face in his hands. “But I owe you something. Please give me another chance to give it to you.”
When he looked at me that way—no teasing smile, no pretense, no smolder—I couldn’t say no. Maybe it would turn out to be the second biggest mistake I’d ever made, but I slid into the booth.
“Thank you,” he said, sounding relieved as he sat across from me. He indicated the wine glass closest to me. “That’s for you.”
“I’m fine,” I said, even though I was dying for a sip. “What is it that you think you owe me?”
He picked up his wine glass and took a slow swallow. After setting the glass down, he slid out of the booth again, came to my side, and got down on one knee. Then he reached into his inside coat pocket and took out a small box. Before I could even suck in my breath, he opened it up, and nestled in the black velvet cushion was a stunning emerald-cut diamond in an art deco setting on a platinum band.
My jaw fell open. Chills swept across my back and down my arms. “What is that?”
“That is a very close—as close as I could get inside a week—approximation of the ring your great-grandfather the bootlegger gave to your great-grandmother . . . with a slightly bigger diamond, of course.” He gave me a mischievous little grin.
“Oh my God. Enzo.” I covered my cheeks with my trembling hands.
“What I owe you is the truth, Bianca,” he said, his eyes dark and serious. “All my life, I didn’t think it would matter who I married. I wanted kids for the sake of carrying on tradition and the experience of fatherhood, but it wasn’t until I fell in love with you that I understood what that really means. I don’t just want to have children so I can be a dad—I want to have children with you. I want to raise a family with you. And when it’s just us again in that big old Center Avenue house, I want to sit on the porch in a rocking chair and argue with you.” He smiled as he took the ring from the box and showed me the inscription: Per cent'anni . . . Enzo.
I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat only grew bigger.
“I love you,” he said, taking my left hand and slipping the ring on my finger. “More than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone. I’m sorry I made you wait to hear it. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“But Enzo.” I made myself say the words. “I might not be able to have—”
He silenced me with two fingers over my lips. “We’re a family no matter what.”
I smiled through my tears, and he lowered his hand. “Do you mean it?”
“Yes.” He took both my hands in his. “You’re the most beautiful, the most caring, and the most exasperating woman I’ve ever known. You can infuriate me like no one else—but you make me happier than anyone else ever could. And the love I feel for you is the truest, realest thing I’ve ever known.”
A sob escaped me, and a tear slid down my cheek. “I love you too.”
“I want a love story like your great-grandparents—one that will outlast our time on earth, one that our great-grandkids will still be talking about a hundred years from now.”
I nodded as more tears slipped from my eyes. “I want that too.”
“Will you marry me?”
Laughing, I wiped my cheeks. “I’m already married to you.”
“But you deserved a better proposal. So what do you say? Still want to be my wife?”
“Yes,” I said, laughing again as I took his face in my hands and kissed his lips. “Yes.”
He kissed me briefly before rising to his feet and turning to the crowded dining room. “She said yes!”
The entire place erupted in shouts and applause, and I felt heat in my cheeks as he slipped into the booth across from me.
“Whew,” he said, loosening the knot in his tie. “I’m sweating.”
“Why? Did you think I was going to say no?” I stared at the gorgeous ring on my finger, my heart thumping happily.
“Honestly?” He hesitated. “No. I figured you’d say yes. But I’d have deserved it if you said no.”
I rolled my eyes and picked up my wine glass. “Oh, good. You’re still you.”
“I’m still me.” His smile made my breath catch—I hoped it always would.