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The tension instantly leaves my muscles. “That sounds perfect.” I lean forward, kissing the tip of her nose, and then her mouth. “Dinner is at six.”
The rest of the day passes in a quiet, relaxed hum. Mila and Niki go up to the pool for a little while, and I do some work in my office, bringing sandwiches up to them for lunch that I have dropped off from a cafe down the street. Mila is stretched out on a lounge chair, her pale skin shaded by an umbrella, and Niki is splashing in the shallow end of the pool.
The domesticity of it strikes me all over again—and makes me happy in a way that recently I couldn’t have imagined. I love her, I think as I bring lunch over to the long table at the back of the deck. The words so sure and certain that I don’t know now how I ever wondered if it was true or not.
Mila vanishes after lunch to shower, taking a nap, and then re-emerging at five dressed in dark jeans and a sleeveless light pink chiffon blouse, her hair pulled up in a loose bun. Darcy has already collected Niki, and there’s nothing left to do but go down to where my driver is waiting and head to the mansion.
I can tell she’s nervous on the drive over, her fingers twisting in her lap. “It’s alright,” I murmur, reaching over and touching her hand. “They’re going to love you.”
“Do they know how we met?” She swallows hard. “That I used to—‘work’ for you? Or about?—”
I cut her off before she says Altiere’s name. He’s a part of her past now, but I still hate to hear it cross her lips.
“Dante knows everything,” I tell her quietly. “Aida knows some. Carmine—that’s my youngest brother—I don’t know how much he knows, but trust me when I say that out of all of them, he’ll care the least about what sort of past you have.”
“And the others?” Her voice trembles a little, and I lift her hand, kissing the back of her knuckles.
“Dante and Aida won’t judge you,” I promise her. “I love you, and that’s all that will matter to them.”
I can smell the wafting scent of dinner being cooked when we step into the mansion. I lead Mila into the front room, where wine has already been poured and Emma and Aida are both drinking a glass, sitting close together as they talk quietly about something. Carmine is talking with Dante, something stronger in each of their glasses, and I can tell that they’re disagreeing about something. It’s hard to have a dinner where they don’t disagree about something, if I’m being honest.
Stepping into the room, I clear my throat. “This is Mila, everyone.” I put my hand on the small of her back. “Mila—Carmine, Dante, Aida, and Emma. Emma is Dante’s girlfriend.”
Emma grins. “Don’t sound so much like it hurts you to say that.”
“It doesn’t,” I promise her. Not any longer. Not now that I understand. I’d disapproved so strongly of Dante’s relationship with her, feeling as if it only complicated things, that it could only make him unhappy. But now I understand.
Love makes all of that feel unimportant. It makes all of the roadblocks, all of the challenges, feel as if they’re inconsequential. And it doesn’t matter what it takes to overcome them.
In the end, overcoming them is as necessary as breathing.
Mila is already walking into the room, smiling and greeting my family. Carmine waves to her, Dante stands up and shakes her hand, Aida scoots to one side to make room for her and starts to pour her a glass of wine. And I stand there, unmoving, watching it all play out in front of me.
She doesn’t come from a family like mine, or wealth, or power. Everything about my family should be alien to her—and yet, it’s not, because, at our core, we would do anything for one another. Just as Mila would do anything for her brother. Just like she has.
There was never any fear that they would look down on her for it. Not just because I love her, but because any of us would do whatever is necessary to protect each other. Even when we argue, the way Dante and I so often do with Carmine, that never changes. And everything Mila has ever done has been to protect her family.
She fits, here. Just as she fit with me, from the very beginning. As I sink onto the couch next to Dante with a drink, watching Mila laugh at something Aida says, watching her lean forward and trace the outline of one of Emma’s forearm tattoos as the other woman holds out her arm, I feel as if I’ve let out a breath that I was holding for longer than I knew.
I feel at home, in a way I never have before. Complete, in a way I never knew I could. And when Mila lifts her head and looks at me, her eyes shining, I know she feels it, too.
I love you, she mouths, from where she’s sitting.
I do the same, in return. I love you, too. And in that moment, I know what I need to ask her. I can’t ask her to marry me, not yet. But there’s something else that I can’t wait any longer to say.
After dinner, while we’re waiting on the cook to make a souffle, I take Mila out back into the garden. She rests her head on my shoulder as we sink down on one of the benches, surrounded by tropical-smelling flowers.
“This has been wonderful,” she whispers, looking back at the house. “Your family is wonderful. I’m so glad I came. And they were so sweet when I mentioned Niki—I’ll bring him next time. After he’s had a chance to settle in even more.”
“Move in with me.” The words come out before I can stop them, more abruptly than I had meant for them to, initially. “Please.”
Mila sits up, her expression slightly confused. “I—I’m already living with you, Lorenzo.” She laughs faintly. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Officially.” I turn towards her, reaching for her hands. “I know it’s fast. I know this all happened quickly, and because of necessity. But say you’ll stay—you and Niki. Say you’ll live with me.”
I reach up, brushing my fingers across her cheekbone. “I want you to stay because you choose to. Not because you feel like you have to. Or because it happened, and you don’t know how to take it back. I want to hear you say?—”
She reaches up, her hand gently covering mine. “That I’m yours?”
