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“We’ve got tiramisù in the cooler for later, Kim,” Gio says to my mom as he fans my dad.
“I’m going to start with some of this Italian wine and then some cold-pressed olive oil over this bruschetta,” I say.
“Can you make me one too?” Gio asks me.
I plop down on the blanket, watching my mom and dad and Gio act like everything is completely normal, and my fiancé seems to pick right up on it.
“Sorry for the way we’re acting. It’s just that we all planned out every detail a couple of months ago and it worked out so it’s actually not the big reveal to us that it is to you.” He pauses. “Did we do good?”
I shake my head. If it was anyone else I’d be kicking and screaming, but Gio…? It just shows how much he really is my Daddy, taking care of everything without bothering me one bit, without causing me to worry.
“Congratulations, honey,” dad says a moment later when he’s back to himself. “As I mentioned I was not at all excited about the two of you at first, but once I thought about it it makes complete sense. Who else in this world do I trust with my little girl? Who else could give her this life?” he asks, his arms motioning in a big circle around this beautiful Sardinia seaside. “And who else could I trust to pull this all off, but him?”
“But dad? What about you and mom?”
“Well, you’ve got two babysitters right down the coast now.”
“What?”
“Taxes can be done all through the Internet. We’re living in Italy now. Early retirement, especially considering the rewards we got for finding and turning in Marroni.”
I just shake my head.
“Oh, and it’s not Tim and Kim anymore. You can just call us Stefano and Stella. That’s what it reads on our passports at least.”
“What?” I gulp, turning to Gio who just shoots me a wink.
“I love you,” he mouths.
“So yeah, no reason to call me daddy ever again. We don’t want anyone finding out.”
Gio and I choke back laughter. “You’re right, we don’t need anyone finding out who my daddy is. Those who know, know.”
“Atta girl,” dad and Gio say at the same time.
“More wine?” my mom asks.
I rip the bottle from her hands and tip it back, taking a drink straight from it before I spit it out.
“A bit of wine could help me get through this moment but then I realized what this moment is all about in the first place.”
“That’s right, Little Momma,” Gio says. “We should pick out names.”
“We don’t even know if it’s going to be a boy or a girl.”
“That’s the best part about Italian names, you just add an ‘o’ at the end for boys and an ‘a’ at the end for girls. Something like that at least.”
“You’re something,” I say, tapping him on the nose.
“And you’re everything,” he says tapping me back and then claiming my lips.
“I love you.”
“Ti amo, amore mio.”
Extended Epilogue
Giovanni
