Page 198 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

“Catherine Cecelia Marcello, love of my life, keeper of my heart, owner of my soul, girl of my dreams, and whisperer of my truth. You are the breath to my blood, the sea to my sky, the forever to my today, and the queen to my king. The only woman I have ever loved, the only heart I have ever coveted, and the only life to have woven with mine so entirely. I am not me without you. I have loved you for every day I have known you, and I need you to let me promise all the rest of my days to you, too.”

Catherine wiped the wetness from her cheeks with shaking hands. She really wished she could catch her breath, but she couldn’t quit crying.

“Would you do me the greatest honor, and marry me?” he asked.

He could have asked her on the highway. He could have asked her in bed. He could have asked her over a fucking phone call. Catherine still would have said yes.

“Of course I will,” she whispered.

Cross was up off the ground before she could even get another word in. He slipped the shadowbox out of her hand, and set it carefully to the ground a second before his lips closed in on hers. His hard kiss took her breath away, but it was so familiar, it made her ten feet high and warm to the touch. He slipped that ring down her finger, and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. Catherine hadn’t even heard the clapping and cheers until that moment.

His hug wrapped her in home and love. She buried her tear-streaked face into his neck, and let his arms hide away the rest of the world.

Just for a second.

Only for him.

“Love you,” he murmured in her ear.

“Promise?”

Oh, so familiar.

Oh, so perfect.

“Always, Catherine.”

Three months later …

“Are you ready?” Dante asked.

Catherine nodded, and smoothed her hands over the blush chiffon of her ball gown wedding dress. Off the shoulder, long lace sleeves, and with a ten foot train that held tiny pearl buttons from the very bottom to the very top of her shoulders, she felt like every inch a princess.

“Let me look at you one more time,” Dante said.

Her father took her hands, and held her out just enough to gaze over her dress. He fixed one of her stray waves of hair behind her ten foot veil with lace trim. He also checked the bottom of her dress to make sure the skirt hadn’t gotten dirty.

“My God, you are beautiful, Catherine.”

“Yeah?”

She figured the twenty thousand dollar wedding dress helped a lot.

Her father disagreed.

“You make that dress shine, dolcezza. Nervous?”

“Not at all.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“I’m so ready for this,” she admitted. November twenty-ninth. A Saturday, mid-afternoon, cool outside, and warm inside. Her wedding day was finally there. She had been counting down every day leading up to it. Although, she didn’t need this big day at all because … “I would have married him at the courthouse the same day he asked, Daddy.”

Dante chuckled. “Yes, well, thankfully Cross and I came to an agreement before you could try and convince him of something like that.”

She cocked an eyebrow at her father. “What, now?”

“I wanted my principessa to have a proper wedding. Think, Catty.”