Then another.
Unstoppable.
A soft laugh escaped me as I turned to him, my chest so full I thought it might burst. “You embroidered these?”
Ronan shifted beside me, rubbing the back of his neck. “Itried,” he admitted, his lips twitching. “Mammaand Lucio helped me.”
I let out a surprised laugh, the image of Ronan sitting with hisMammaLucia and his twin, stitching words into fabric, making my heart flip over itself.
“Imagine that,” I teased.
He smirked, but there was something warm in his gaze. He reached for one of the swatches, running his thumb over the thread.
“These words,” he said softly, “describe you.”
I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the pieces of fabric as I glanced down at them again.
Kind. Fierce. Passionate.
He had embroidered them himself. With help, sure, but still. He had put in the effort. He had taken the time to think of these words, to bring them to life with his own hands.
Emotion swelled in my chest. “Ronan…”
He shrugged, but I could see the hint of pink creeping along his cheekbones. “I wanted you to know I see you, Nina,” he whispered. “I see all of you.”
The breath left my lungs.
I had no words.
So instead, I stepped closer, holding the swatches to my chest like they were the most precious thing in the world, and in that moment, they were.
Because this—this—was Ronan.
Underneath all the teasing, all the confidence, all the easy charm, he had the kindest, biggest heart, and he had given it to me.
Chapter Twenty-six
NINA
Present Day
NEW YORK CITY
The more I thought about why I was in New York, the more undeserving I felt. I knew I’d worked hard to get here, but a voice in me whispered it still wasn’t enough or that I would fail. The doubt clung to me, dulling the excitement I should have felt.
I sat in the backseat, fidgeting with the bracelet my nonna gave me before she passed, and remembered her words:“Life’s toughest challenges are often the most rewarding. Non arrendersi mai, mia cara.44”I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to absorb her strength.
The city buzzed around me, a reminder that life was biggerthan my doubts. Every street seemed to whisper possibility, urging me forward.
Traffic delayed us two hours, but when we finally reached the Celestine Grand Hotel, the sleek glass tower reflected Manhattan’s energy, softened by touches of greenery. Inside, cool air washed over us, a welcome escape from the noise.
“We have rooms under Nina Moretti,” I said, handing over my ID.
The receptionist smiled. “Top-floor suite. Enjoy your stay.”
Exhausted, Inaya and I rode the elevator up. The suite felt more like a luxury apartment—two bedrooms, floor-to-ceiling windows, a kitchenette, and sweeping city views. Plush king beds promised real rest at last.
After settling in, Inaya left to meet a friend, while I headed to Dillon’s penthouse to reconnect with my cousins. The space glowed with modern art, soft furnishings, and a skyline that stole my breath.
