Finally, after what feels like hours, they release us, their instructions blurring together as I stagger to my feet. Rocco’s beside me, equally unsteady, his face pale but set in grim determination.
The nurse leads us through another set of hallways, and it feels like every step takes an eternity. Rocco walks beside me, the tension rolling off him in waves. I can see his hands shaking, his jaw clenched tight, barely holding himself together.
I don’t think either of us breathes until we reach the door at the end of the hall, and the nurse gestures for us to go in.
Inside, Cas is lying in a hospital bed, her face exhausted but peaceful, a glow of relief in her eyes. She looks up at us as we enter, a tired smile spreading across her face.
And beside her, holding a tiny bundle wrapped in a pale blue blanket, is Isabella.
Her face lights up the second she sees us, her eyes softening, and she looks down at the baby, then back to us.
“Rocco,” Cas whispers, her voice barely more than a breath, but it’s enough.
Rocco crosses the room in an instant, reaching her bedside and taking her hand like he’s reassuring himself that she’s really there.
The baby stirs in Isabella’s arms, making a faint little sound that fills the room like the most fragile, beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.
Isabella steps closer to Rocco, lifting her bundle carefully so we can see his tiny face.
“You have a son,” she says softly, her voice warm and steady as she hands the baby to Rocco.
He takes his son like he’s handling the most precious thing in the world. His eyes shimmer as he looks down at the baby, and a soft laugh escapes him.
Cas reaches up, running her fingers along her son’s cheek, her eyes filling with tears.
“You both made it,” he murmurs like he can’t quite believe it. “You’re both here.”
I take a step back, watching them, letting them have this moment, but I feel a warmth I can’t describe growing in my chest. I turn to Isabella, and our eyes meet.
She’s watching me, her expression unreadable but soft, and there’s a calm in her gaze that I haven’t seen before. With a gentle nod of her head, she indicates the door.
I follow her out into the hallway, leaving the Morettis to their joy.
“It was touch and go for a while there,” Isabella says once the door closes behind us. “For a moment, they thought they might lose at least one of them.”
“But you stayed.”
She holds up her hand proudly, the telltale bruises already beginning to form along the back of it. “Couldn’t leave her if I tried. That woman is stronger than she looks.”
I smile at her as I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it softly. “Thank you.”
“Did you mean it?” she says suddenly. “What you said to my brother. Did you mean it?”
I don’t need her to tell me which part she’s referring to. The wariness in her eyes says it all.
And really, there’s no point denying it. Not anymore.
“Yes,” I pull her in closer so I can whisper in her ear. “I think I loved you from the moment you crashed the wedding.”
I can see the flush rising to her cheeks. “You just liked that I was on my knees.”
“I still loved you, though.” I weave my hand through her soft hair. “I likely always will.”
“Is that a promise?”
“One I will gladly make every day for the rest of my measly existence.”
And because she can, she kisses me.
