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Epilogue
Sophie,of course, is our flower girl. She makes a beeline down the aisle, toward Carlotta, who’s kneeling at the other end. When her nonna pantomimes tossing flowers, Sophie waves the basket wildly, dislodging a huge clump of petals, and then runs the rest of theway.
Laughter ripples through the packed church. The Adamos are out in force, and I’ve gotten to know almost everyone here in the last few months.
Dante waits at the front of the church, a line of sexy Adamo men next to him. We had to cut it off at some point, or else we could have had the whole audience up there, and no one left to sit in the pews. Rico’s his best man, and then there’s an empty space, followed by Carlo and Tonio. Logan’s the ring bearer, but he’s sitting in the front pew with hisdad.
My bridesmaids follow Sophie at a more sedate pace: Gina, Izzy, Anjelica, and Cait. When they’re all down front, it’s my turn. Vic offers me his arm, the bridal march plays, and everyone turns tolook.
Sophie’s standing on the front pew on the bridal side, craning her head to see. When she spots us, she yells, “Unca Bic!” and Carlotta has to stop her from running back down the aisle.
“We see who rates,” I murmur under my breath. “I’m only her mother.”
Vic just grins. He and Sophie have a mutual admiration society.
In truth, I only have eyes for Dante. He looks amazing in his tuxedo, and I can’t wait to take it off him later. This is the first time he’s seen me in my dress, and from the look on his face he appreciatesit.
It’s a simple but elegant cream-colored satin, the arms and bodice snug, the skirt flared. No lace, no train, no veil, no excruciatingly high heels. Now that I’ve finally had the chance to explore the world of fashion, I’ve learned that I don’t want to be a slave toit.
I’ll wear a dress when Dante takes me out, if for no other reason than that skirts allow for a different kind of fun and games than pants do. But my man loves my ass, and he never complains about clothes that show it to best advantage.
When we reach the front, Vic kisses my cheek and joins the line of groomsmen. I join hands with Dante, and the ceremony begins in earnest.
* * *
We’ve practiced this,being away from Sophie, but it still makes me nervous. She’s spent the night at Carlotta and Giovanni’s, and once or twice at Izzy’s with Logan. But my girl is a homebody, and she’s happiest when she’s with me and Dante and BeeBee.
And Bic. Dante got me our new puppy as an early wedding gift, and Sophie promptly named him after her favorite uncle. He’ll be all right for a couple of nights without us, just like our girl, but we’ll miss them all thesame.
“It’s just two nights,” Dante reminds me. “And we can always go home early if we needto.”
“Iknow.”
When Carlo explained to the Carringtons that they would be facing a number of legal charges for their treatment of me -- and that he had the evidence to make the charges stick, and his family had enough influence to combat the favor they’d curried with select judges -- they decided to cut their losses.
They’re now living the expat life overseas, and Carlo has assured me that he left them with no illusions about trying any funny stuff. “They’ll be under surveillance the rest of their lives.
Any suspicious meetings or financial transactions, any sign that they’re trying to hire someone to get to Sophie, and I’ll follow up. But I don’t think they’re stupid enough to riskit.”
I think he’s right. Still, it’s going to take me time to get over it. The problem with our brief honeymoon isn’t so much that Sophie might need me; it’s that I might not be able to stop myself from checking on her, above and beyond the scheduled updates.
But if anyone can make me forget every single thing in the world except his name, it’s my husband.
As soon as he carries me over the threshold of the mountain lodge we’ve rented, he starts the seduction. Champagne, chocolate-dipped strawberries, and kisses. Endless kisses, all over, but always returning to sip at my mouth.
I got a dress with lots of buttons, just to tease him a little, but he turns the tables, undoing them with great deliberation, kissing each bit of skin as it’s uncovered. The farther he gets, the slower he goes, until I’m twisting in his hands, my body heavy with unspent energy.
When he undoes the last button, he works the dress over my hips and lets it pool on the floor, sinking with it until he’s kneeling behind me. “Have I told you I love yourass?”
I smile. “You might have mentioned it a time ortwo.”
“These dimples.” He presses a kiss to each of them, flicking out his tongue, and I shiver. “Fuckin’ amazing.”
“Husband?”
He wraps his arms around me and leans forward to look up at my face. “Wife?”
I run my fingers through his hair. “Have I told you that I loveyou?”
