One line. Simple. The kind of truth that doesn’t need decoration.
I can’t speak. My throat is locked shut. Eleven years of keeping everyone out, and this woman just kicked the door down with four words and a shaking voice.
So I pull her down and kiss her.
Not like last night. Not hungry or desperate. This is something else. The kind of kiss that seals a wound closed. Her tears are wet against my cheeks. Or maybe they’re mine. Fuck. I can’t tell anymore.
When we break apart, I keep her close. Keep her forehead pressed to mine. Keep my hands on her face.
“Marry me again.”
She pulls back. Blinks. “We’re already married.”
“I know.” My voice comes out wrecked. “That was a contract. I want it to be real.”
She waits. Listening. Her pulse hammering against my fingertips where they rest on her neck.
“I want you to stand in front of my family and say yes because you want to. Not because you had to.”
Cristo.My hands are shaking. The Don of New Orleans, trembling like a kid asking a girl to prom. If Nico could see me right now, he’d never let me live it down.
Her chin lifts. Her jaw sets.
“Yes.”
One word. No hesitation. Fierce and certain and so goddamn steady it wrecks me.
“Cassia—”
“You heard me.” She takes my face in her hands. Her thumbs brush the dampness off my cheeks. “Yes. In front of your family. In front of God. In front of anyone who asks.”
I kiss her again. Slower. Pouring everything into it because the words aren’t enough. They’ll never be enough.
When we separate, she settles against my chest. Her head on my shoulder. Her hand over my heart.
The bed creaks. It’s not designed for two people. My IV line is tangled somewhere under her elbow, and I’m losing feeling in my leg now too.
I don’t mention it.
“So.” Lighter now. A smile in every syllable. “When’s the wedding?”
I laugh. It hurts. My ribs protest. Worth it.
“Soon. As soon as I can stand at an altar without collapsing.”
“That could take a while.”
“Careful. I might take that as a challenge.”
She laughs too. Warm against my chest.
“Nico will give a toast that makes everyone uncomfortable,” I tell her. “Marco will pretend he’s not emotional. Renzo will stand next to me and say nothing, which is how I’ll know he’s happy.”
“And Gia?”
“Gia will check my vitals before the ceremony and lecture me about overexertion during the reception.”
“Sounds perfect.”
