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The hug he gives me is one for the ages. I’m tucked tightly against him, my lower half angled away because of my baby bump as his arms find their way around me and his chin fits above my head. I can feel him breathing fast and hard as his hand cups my shoulder, rubbing almost frenziedly. “Rosa…oh God.”
His hand cradles my belly, and he makes a soft sound, almost like a sob. But when I look up, he’s dry-eyed, his eyes round with wonder.
“Luca…what are you doing here?” My voice breaks as tears fill my eyes. I guess maybe I’m a crier after all. He’s lifts me in his arms, turning a circle as he hugs me again. His mouth is near my ear, and I can feel him trembling.
“I am so, so sorry.” His chest shudders. “I don’t know how I fucked up this bad.” He pulls away from me, so we can see each other. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted, and I blew it. I let how I felt about myself and my past let me think you wouldn’t really want me around. Once we’d been together…you’d change your mind,” he rasps. “Or, worse than that, I thought I might make the baby’s life, or your life, worse. I couldn’t imagine you quitting your job so we could be together.”
He looks down. I can feel him note how much bigger my belly is; he glances up at me and spreads his palm over it. “Jesus, rosa.” He wraps an arm around my neck and presses his face to my shoulder. For a long time, I don’t think he can speak. He’s just breathing.
“Still don’t know the gender,” I whisper.
He looks up at me again, and there are tears in his eyes. “I’ve fucked up so much. When I heard you were leaving New York…in a way it was the best thing I had ever heard. I didn’t feel like it was right for you to have to quit your job because of me.”
“I wanted to,” I interrupt. “I told you I wanted to.”
“I know.” He swallows and hangs his head. “I couldn’t get around…this idea that it was your dream, and you’d be giving it up because of my…fuckups. But then I found out you were leaving—” He shakes his head. “I think it woke me up. And I realized you meant it.”
“What? That I’d give up my job for you? I know what I want, Luca.”
“And I know what I want, too.” He breathes deeply as his face goes soft, expressive. “I want you forever. Anywhere and everywhere, I want to be yours, and I want to give you what you need and want…and provide for our baby. It’s weird, leaving what I’ve been in for a long time. But I don’t even miss it. Not a single fucking thing about it.” I can see his jaw flexing; I know him well enough to know he’s struggling not to break down. “Kind of like a shirt that doesn’t fit or something. But…I don’t know what does fit.”
I stroke his nape and rub his shoulder, and a single tear falls down his cheek. “All I really know is you. It’s you that I need. I’m afraid of fucking up, of tying you to all my shit. But I can’t let another day go by without making you mine.”
He reaches into his pocket and draws out a small, wood-carved rose. The petals look so real, it’s almost difficult to believe it’s made of wood. It’s got a long stem, even thorns. “I had this idea about a rose.” He gives a nervous laugh and holds the thing up, and we’re both laughing. His nervousness has spread to me; all of a sudden, my heart’s beating too fast.
“What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” He holds the carved rose out to me, and I take it, marveling at the incredible craftsmanship.
“La mia rosa, would you take my name?” He takes one of my hands, his fingers pressing something small and cool to my palm. Then he drops down on one knee, pushes his forehead to my leg, and wraps an arm around the back of my knee as my heart pounds so hard the seashore tilts.
He looks up. “Will you marry me, Elise O’Hara? I’ll take care of you forever. No more bad Houdini acts and none of my old life. I can be anything you need me to be”—his voice cracks, and my throat tightens—“because I love you more than anything. I always have, since we were just kids.”
His mouth trembles. I can tell he’s going to say more, but I sink down beside him in the sand. His arms wrap around me, drawing my body into the shelter of his. His hand is in my hair, holding my head against his chest—and I can feel his fingers shaking.
