Page 139 of Marry Me Not
A breath rushed out of me. It was done. My God, it was done!
“I’m so happy for you. So, so happy.” I meant it. He hadn’t just worked toward this moment for the past sixty days, but his entire life. No one could take this from him—not even Vita, who’d already taken so much.
The smile he gave me was honest and open, and I was sure I’d only ever seen it directed at me. My belly fluttered. Every part of me wanted to cross the room to him, to hold him, to kiss him, but I forced myself to stay still.
He had his victory, but I couldn't assume what it meant for us. For our marriage. My hopes had grown with every night he'd come to sleep beside me, holding me tightly against his chest, saying little with words but everything with his hands, and they had inflated so far by now that I knew—if he punctured them, I wouldn't survive the fall. So I waited. Waited for him to tell me what he wanted first.
He didn’t look away from me for a long moment. Then, his eyes moved toBride’s Door.
“The night we met,” he said, “you told me it made you feel uncertain. You believed marriage would mean becoming someone new, and yet you hoped the person you were marrying would still make room for the parts you didn’t want to give up.”
My throat bobbed. “You remember.”
Slowly, he looked back to me, and warmth rushed through my veins at the deep affection in his gaze. “Every word.” His hand twitched at his side. “I don’t want it to make you feel uncertain anymore.” He took a step toward me. “There’s not a single part of yourself that you should give up, Fabiana. Not for me. Not for anyone.”
My chest tightened. “Not even the parts that make me unsuitable to be a don’s wife?”
A wry huff. “Those parts don’t exist. They never did. I just didn’t know any better.”
My heart raced beneath his intense gaze as he took another step closer. “The only reason you’re a don’s wife now is because you helped make me into one. None of this would have happened without you.”
Heat spread over my cheeks. “You're giving me too much credit."
He shook his head, that soft smile on his lips again. “Every time I trusted you, things went right. That's not a coincidence. I spent so long believing that trusting anyone would make me weaker. You proved me wrong."
I processed his words. Savored them. How many times had I asked him to trust me? How often had I wondered if he ever would?
He took a step toward me. “You know what that painting made me feel just now?”
“What?” I asked quietly.
“Joy. The kind that comes with stepping into a new, brighter future with someone you trust and love and want at your side for the rest of your life.”
Happiness crackled and fizzed inside my lungs even as my eyes watered. “Enough joy to justify the million-dollar price tag?”
“If you feel it too. I’ve long since realized that there is no amount of money I wouldn’t pay to make you happy.”
“That sounds very frivolous.”
“My accountant has warned me about this.”
“Maybe you should heed the man's warnings.”
“Nah. He’s got no idea what he’s talking about.” He lifted his hand, brushing his knuckles over my cheek. “I want to take you back to Italy for your birthday in July. No work this time.”
The thought of it spread through me like sunlight. “July is more than five months away. Our deal will be over.”
“I want to renegotiate the terms. I'd like to change six months to sixty years.”
The gallery was very quiet as I cleared my thickening throat. “Sixty years is quite a significant adjustment. What's in it for me?”
“Everything I can give you. Which, to be clear, is considerable.” He smiled, but it fell away, quickly replaced with something so intense and raw it took my breath away. “I’m done pretendingI'm willing to let you walk away. Having you by my side would be my greatest honor.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and lowered himself onto one knee. The box he took out was small and dark blue. When he opened it, I gasped.
A pear-shaped diamond of extraordinary size that caught the light from every direction. It sat atop a sleek, deeply curved band of dark ceramic, the contrast between the two stark and intentional.
“Your light to my dark,” Cosimo said softly, while I studied the ring and tried to keep myself together. “The night we came back home from Italy, I researched who knew how to combine ceramics and precious stones to make a ring I had in mind. I didn’t want to give you just a ring. I wanted to give youyourring. My research turned up a jewelry house called?—”
