“You’re not broken.”
“I am,” she said, and there was no self-pity in her voice. Just a fact. “I’m a mess, Lorenzo. I have daddy issues, trust issues, and a credit score that makes me want to cry. I don’t know what love is supposed to look like. I don’t know if I’m capable of it.” She gave a small, humorless laugh, her eyes fixed on her hands.
“You are not broken. There may be pieces of you, but each one is just as beautiful and as special as the last.”
“You don’t know that.”
I grabbed her hand, eyeing the simple band I’d placed on her finger. I took in the row of stones catching the light, before placing a gentle kiss first on her hand, and then on the ring itself.
“I do, Tesoro.”
She shook her head. “Why not wait? Why not fall in love with someone normal? Someone who doesn’t come with all this baggage?”
I turned to face her fully, my knee brushing hers.
“Because the second I saw you,” I said, “I already knew.”
Her breath caught.
“Knew what?”
“That you were the one I’d fall in love with.” The words came out rough, raw. “When I saw you sitting at that bar, crying over some asshole who didn’t deserve you, I felt something I’ve never felt before. And I knew that if I let you walk out of my life, I would regret it forever.”
“Yup, you really are crazy,” she whispered, her freckled cheeks turning rosy.
“Probably,” I said. “But it’s the truth.”
She looked at me, her lips parted, her eyes wide.
And I knew.
I knew this was the moment.
“Can I kiss you?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
I leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, her eyes fluttered shut.
And I pressed my lips to hers.
The kiss was soft at first, gentle, testing.
Then I felt her breath hitch, her body tense, and then—slowly—she relaxed. Her hand came up to rest on my chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt as I deepened the kiss, pulling her closer, one hand cupping the back of her neck. She tasted like orange juice and syrup and something uniquely her.
For a long moment, the world disappeared.
There was no family drama. No contracts. No deadlines.
Just Zara and I.
When I finally pulled back, her eyes were still closed, her lips slightly swollen. She looked dazed.
“I—” she swallowed.
She leaned into me, her head finding my shoulder, and something inside me shifted.
“Thank you,” she said, “for today.”
