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“Another surprise?” I sound like a child on Christmas.
He hands me a small piece of paper.
“Bali!” I squeal as I read the flight ticket. “We’re going to Bali?”
He nods. “We never took a honeymoon.”
And just like with everything else, Benny remembered.
I told him Bali was my dream vacation. I grabbed my computer and showed him everywhere I wanted to visit in Bali. The first being the Ubud Monkey Forest.
I crawl across the bed, grab his arm, and pull him down on the bed with me. “I know I keep saying this, but thank you.”
He holds himself up with one elbow, hovering over me, and runs his thumb over my cheek. “You never have to thank me for anything, Neomi. All I want to do is make you happy.”
I cup the back of his neck. “I want that for you too.”
He lowers his mouth to mine. “You have no idea how truly happy I am.”
“Who knew the Mafia prince would live happily ever after?” I say against his lips before kissing him.
EPILOGUE
NEOMI
Four Months Later
We have officially movedinto our new home.
Benny gave me complete creative control and an unlimited budget, but I wanted it to beours. I always asked for his opinion and dragged him to different stores to make selections. We both needed our special touches in our dream house.
We decided on a French provincial style. The white brick home complements the mansion and reminds me of romance with its French countryside elements. One side has a rounded corner, giving it the appeal of a castle tower.
Benny put hissaltine crackerhouse on the market, and it sold four days later.
To a twenty-three-year-old bachelor who had won the lottery.
“I still can’t believe we have a room designated for the dog,” Benny comments while passing the room with a moving box in his hand.
“Hey,” I scold, following him while holding Bruiser in my arms. “He’s our child.”
“Why does he need a whole-ass room?” He drops the box in our bedroom. “Somehow, he manages to sleep inourbed every night.” He retrieves the box cutter from his pocket and opens it. “Even though I sent you research on why pets sleeping in your bed is bad for your sleep health.”
I cover Bruiser’s ears at the insult. “A.) You hardly sleep. B.) Don’t act like I don’t see you tap-tap”—I pause to tap on the bed—“for the Bruise Monster to lie next to you.”
His mouth twitches but doesn’t fully form a smile. “You’re dreaming, baby.”
Just as I’m about to display my evidence in the form of secretly snapped photos I took while they were sleeping, my phone vibrates with a text.
Natalia: Enzo is now accepting visitors.
The next message is a photo of baby Enzo, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito.
Poor Natalia was in labor for fourteen hours before Enzo Fredrick Marchetti decided it was his time to shine. Instead of us rushing to the hospital, I told the new mama to inform us when she was ready for visitors.
“Invites to the Enzo show now available,” I sing out, holding the phone out to show him the picture.
Benny’s mouth twitches again, formingcloserto a smile than before. “Let’s go meet him then.”
