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The question hangs between us in the air. I nod slowly. “Yes.” I curl my hand around hers, holding it between us. “Say you’ll stay. Say you’re mine.”
Mila moves closer, both her hands wrapped around mine now, her chin tilting up as she leans in to kiss me. “I’m yours, Lorenzo,” she whispers. “And yes. We’ll stay. For as long as you’ll have me.”
It’s too soon to say it yet. But one day, before too much time passes, I will. Forever. I want you to stay forever.”
Instead, I say the words that are always on the tip of my tongue. “I love you, Mila Ilenya. I love you.”
Mila kisses me again, her breath warm against my lips, our future unfurling in front of me, one kiss and whisper at a time. “I love you too, Lorenzo,” she whispers. “Always.”
Always. I pull her close, my arms going around her, and kiss her until we’re both breathless. And somewhere in it, I whisper the word I want to say, lost between the kisses and I love yous.
Forever. Forever, and ever, and longer still, if I can.
There’s nothing in the world that could ever make me happier.
Epilogue
Mila
Six months later, I find myself on a private plane the day before my birthday, being whisked away to a surprise that I didn’t know was planned. Lorenzo got me into the car with the promise of a dinner out, a special surprise reservation, and it’s not until we got to the tarmac that I realized that he’d managed to fool me.
“What’s going on?” I look around the interior of the private jet—something I never thought I’d set foot on—seeing roses in small vases next to every seat, a bottle of champagne already chilling in ice next to one row, and caviar and shrimp cocktail on the table between the soft-looking leather seats. “Lorenzo?—”
“I’m taking you away for your birthday.” He leans in, kissing me firmly on the mouth. “To somewhere tropical, considering it’s January.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Lorenzo, we live in Los Angeles. It hardly feels like the dead of winter.”
“Have you ever been anywhere tropical?” He leads me towards the seats and champagne and caviar, and I feel like my head is spinning.
“No. I’ve never left California. And Niki?—”
“Niki is being taken care of. Darcy is going to watch him this weekend. Then Dante is taking off for a business trip while Emma and Aida take care of Niki for the rest of the week at Emma and Dante’s penthouse. Aida is still on winter break, and Niki will be spoiled to death.”
I let out a long breath. Lorenzo is right. He’ll have the time of his life—Emma and Aida both adore him. And while I hate to admit it, he probably will barely notice I’m gone, with all three of them lavishing attention on him like he’s their own son.
In the last six months, my life and Niki’s have changed in leaps and bounds. I returned to the ballet, taking it slow as I promised Lorenzo, but I’ll be dancing in the spring showcase after missing the winter performance of the Nutcracker. Rachelle took the lead for that, but she privately admitted to me that the stress of it, and Annalise’s demands, nearly drove her insane. She’s promised me that she’s more than ready for me to take up the lead position again.
Between the comfort of living with Lorenzo, my lessened stress and ability to spend more time with him, and therapy, Niki has improved, too. He’s still not speaking, but he communicates with everyone via writing now, including Lorenzo’s family and Emma, who latched onto him immediately and has started taking turns with Darcy babysitting when Lorenzo and I want to go out.
There are no more worries about money. No need to think about anything other than returning to ballet, taking care of my brother, and enjoying my relationship with Lorenzo. It’s perfect, in a way that I was always afraid to imagine that anything could be.
“We don’t have to go,” Lorenzo says gently, mistaking my silence for being upset. “I thought you would like the surprise, but if you don’t?—”
“No, I love it,” I promise him, following him down the aisle to our seats. “I was just startled. I’m not used to surprises—especially not surprises like this.”
“I hoped you’d like it.” Lorenzo reaches for the champagne as we sit down, popping the top off of it and pouring us each a glass. “Have you had caviar before?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You know I haven’t.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” He grins, tapping the edge of his champagne glass against mine. “To the beginning of your birthday week.”
A whole week. My mind spins with the possibilities, with excitement over what Lorenzo has planned. I reach for the caviar, taking a bite, and Lorenzo smiles at me. “Do you like it?”
I nod. “It’s delicious.”
Lorenzo is different now, too. Not different in that he’s not the same man I fell in love with, but different in that the longer we’re together, the more I can feel him relaxing, as if he’s slowly letting out a breath that he’s held forever. He’s softer, more cheerful, less tense with everyone, as if the way he feels with me and around me has bled out into his life as a whole. He’s more patient, too, and I can tell it has improved things with his family relationships.
The caviar and shrimp turn into a steak dinner served on the plane as we take off, followed by vanilla bean mousse topped with strawberries. “This is beyond decadent,” I tell Lorenzo as the last of it is taken away, curling up on the seat next to him with my head in his lap. “And the champagne made me sleepy.”
