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Epilogue
Cosimo
It’s been a year and a half since I proposed to Clara in our secret cove, and when Clara gave me the two greatest gifts I have ever received–her hand in marriage, and the knowledge that she was carrying my child. My perfect, flawless Clara, who I had known belonged to me from the very second I saw her, has changed my life for the better in every single way.
And now, she’s carrying our son, this time in her arms instead of her womb, into our new family home, nestled in the sprawling Italian countryside outside of Naples. Little Alessandro, with his shock of black hair and eyes the color of the deepest forest trees, is dozing in his mother’s embrace, oblivious to this monumental moment in our lives.
“Should I wake him up?” Clara asks quietly.
I shake my head. “No, let him sleep. He’ll have plenty of time here, my love.”
Clara and I married on the island of Capri, with the entire Giordano clan there to celebrate with us, as well as Clara’s friends from the states, the bitch that left her stranded excluded. The most amusing guest, to me at least, was Paul Eldrige, looking like the most nervous man on earth as I shook his hand and promised him I would always take care of his daughter, and that she would want for nothing. He had fled into the crowd at the first opportunity, but at least he came to walk his daughter down the aisle. It’s the least that bastard could have done.
The movers have already unloaded all our furniture, new and old, but there is one piece that Clara hasn’t gotten to see yet. She’s exploring her new office now, where she will finish her degree at her own pace when not taking in person classes, and marveling at the view from her window.
“There’s an even better view above the fireplace,” I hint, and she turns to look at me, brow furrowed.
“Above the fireplace?” Her tone is confused, but I just wave her on anyway.
“Yes, above. Now, come on, wife.”
I lead her to the living room, and watch as her eyes move up the white brick fireplace to the painting hanging above it. Colored in dark sapphire blue, turquoise, stone gray, and ivory sand, with an explosion of brilliant pinks and yellows added onto the horizon, is our secret cove. I had the painting commissioned months ago, just so it would be ready for this day. It’s enormous, as long as Clara is tall, and I can tell she’s awestruck. Triumph fills me at being able to please my woman.
“Do you like it?” I ask, voice low to not wake the baby.
Clara doesn’t answer. Instead, she hands me Alessandro, stands on her tiptoes, takes my face in both her hands, and kisses me soundly. Her cheeks are damp with happy tears.
I think it’s safe to say that yes, she likes it.
