Page 220 of The Italian Obsession

“Are you sure?” I whisper up at him. “We’ve only just found each other. It’s so soon.”

“Bella, I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.” His lips brush mine. “Why should we wait? I know what I want.”

This is insane, but somehow I know it’s right, and I smile softly.

Marriage.

“We have to get up.” I wince.

He pulls me up and takes me into his arms to kiss me once more. It’s not hurried or sexual. This is a kiss from the heart, and a promise of a life together.

Our life.

“Ti amo,” I whisper up at him.

“I love you, too.” He takes my face in his hands and I smile against his lips, unable to believe what’s transpired here tonight.

We’ve developed this quirky habit of declaring our love for each other in our opposing languages. I always say it in Italian. He says it in English.

However it comes out, it’s perfect every time, and it means so much.

“Do you like your ring?” Enrico asks.

I hold my hand out and look down at it. Is this really happening? The ring isn’t fancy and showy. It’s a gold band with a single solitaire diamond—a big diamond, but simple all the same.

“It’s perfect.”

It feels heavy on my finger and is going to take some time getting used to. I smile as I stare at it.

“I love it and I love you.”

He breaks out into a big, beautiful smile. “Finally, a present you like.”

God. What must it be like to be with me? “It’s the only present that matters.”

I throw my arms around his neck, and he squeezes me so tight as he lifts me up. “Let’s go home.”

________

The bar is empty but our hearts are full.

Fairy lights hang over us in the garden’s courtyard. It’s drawing to the end of our perfect night.

I smile up at my handsome dance partner. He was determined to recreate our first date. We’ve been to the exact same bars and danced on the same dance floors.

The songs are different now, though—not that I remember the originals, to be honest. My brain was high on Enrico Ferrara and still is.

Although it’s a different kind of high now. The kind that lasts a lifetime.

Out of all the women in the world, he picked me to fall in love with, and I’m so incredibly grateful that things have worked out the way that they have between us.

He’s sweet, sexy, dominant, caring, and he listens to every damn word that I say.

I smile as I listen to the lyrics of “Lover” by Taylor Swift and we sway side to side.

“This song is better than the last song you liked,” he tells me.

“What song?” I frown.