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“Listen to me, Francesca Scot, you’re not leaving because I fucking love you. I have pretty much since the day we met. I’ve given you space and I’ve apologized for the shit I did when I was a kid, but we’re adults now.” He claims my lips in a rough, angry kiss. “What happened between us a couple of weeks ago was just the start of what’s going to keep happening. You needed me, Kes. You’ve always needed me. And I’m tired of pretending that I don’t need you, too.”
Half of my heart wants to protect itself. It screams at me to pull away from him and run, never looking back. The other half says this is what I’ve spent my life waiting for. The kind of love that transcends the bad shit we’ve done to one another. The kind of love that survives through other partners and crazy circumstances. I don’t know which part of my heart to believe anymore.
“Don’t be crazy, Cesare.” But the words sound weak to my ears. “We don’t belong together. We’re different people. You have your family and I have my work. I can’t be a school principal and the wife of some, well,” I lower my voice, “some mobster.”
He scoffs in disgust but never releases me. “What kind of bad things do you think I’ve done, Kes? Tell me.”
I know what his brother did. I was with Cesare at the trial for Mateo. Mateo Valenti, a guy whose own fiancé turned him in to the cops. Sure, he didn’t get charged with killing a man, but Bambi Schelling said she saw it happen. No body, no crime. I know that Mateo probably did it, and he had his brothers help him hide the evidence. It wouldn’t be that farfetched to believe that Cesare was somehow involved.
“Yeah, you’ve got nothing,” Cesare adds after a few seconds. “Because I’ve never done anything to hurt you or anyone else. I’ve protected the people I love, Kes. It hasn’t always meant making the easy choice, but I fucking did it no matter the cost. I let you marry Peter fucking Anderson because it kept you from getting your heart broken. I knew you deserved so much more, and I let it happen because you were happy. My own heart broke the day you said I do to him.”
Cesare pauses in his speech to kiss me again and this time, I am hard-pressed to push him away. His lips are more tender than before and the kiss touches me deeper. “I’m tired of rejecting my own happiness, Kessa. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Suddenly the intent of his racing into the house becomes clear. Cesare drops to one knee and pulls a little black box out of his pocket. “I was going to do this when I showed up, but then we started fighting. And when you say yes, I’m going to put this ring on your finger and we can keep fighting for as long as you want. But Francesca Scot, I have known for years that I was going to marry you one day. You can’t tell me that you haven’t imagined a future with me. We are perfect for one another. You are everything that I’m not and there is no other woman I ever want to be with again.”
I hate that there are tears welling up in my eyes. I didn’t authorize my emotions to kick into overdrive. “Cesare, you’re acting on impulse because I’ve been here for weeks.”
“No,” he stands firm, “I’m doing what I should have done years ago. When you and Peter started dating, I should have done this. I should have stopped you and said that I was so totally, madly in love with you that I would never survive if you married him. But I managed to make it through your wedding and your marriage. You’re free again now, Kessa, and it’s time I finally got to ask you the only question I’ve wanted to ask you since high school.”
My heart jumps into my throat as he opens the box to unveil a diamond engagement ring. I feel like I’m shaking as he grabs my hand and slides the ring onto my left finger. “Francesca Scot, will you marry me?”
If I say no, our friendship will be damaged beyond repair. What other choices do I have?
EPILOGUE
CESARE • 4 MONTHS LATER
Ilied to Francesca: Ihavedone things to hurt her. I’m the reason her husband is dead. I’m the reason she was threatened at the grocery store. I’m the reason none of her relationships ever worked out. I’m the reason she’s freaking out right now.
“The dress doesn’t fit. Cesare,” she calls from the closet, “the wedding is next weekend, and my dress doesn’t fit!” She won’t let me in to see her. When she decided to try the dress on this morning, she shoved a shoe under the door so I couldn’t open it and catch her. Kessa said it was bad luck to see a bride in her wedding dress. “You need to call Sylvia right now!”
I stand on the other side of her walk-in closet with a smile on my face. I never thought this day would come. I fantasized about it and imagined what would happen when it did, but I never thought it would actually happen. I never thought I’d get up the courage to ask her to marry me. “I’m dialing right now. Can I get you anything?”
I hear her voice closer to the door this time. “Yes, a Time Machine so I can go back and stop myself from eating so much the last month because now I can’t fit into my wedding dress.” Her tone is frazzled and teary.
“Kes, please, take off the dress and let me in. I can make you feel better.” I grab my phone from my pocket and start looking for Sylvia’s contact information. I lied again: I’m not dialing her sister’s number just yet.
“No,” Kessa groans on the other side of the closet door. “You just want to have sex with me. That isn’t going to make me feel better.”
God forbid I want to have sex with my fiancé, but I don’t say that. “You don’t sound too upset when we’re having sex, Kes. Maybe the stress relief is exactly what you need.”
Kessa drops her head against the closet door with a thud. “What I need is a bigger dress, Cesare. I need Sylvia to come let it out so I can have a meal between now and the wedding.”
I slouch down until I’m on the floor. “Kessa, I love you. I’m going to love you whether you wear a white dress or jeans and a T-shirt to our wedding. We’re stronger than a couple of pounds in the wrong place, honey.”
Silence is the only thing that follows. I can hear her breathing, but she isn’t hyperventilating. It’s a good sign.
“It’s about more than the dress,” she admits after a few minutes. I give her some space and allow her to finish her train of thought at her leisure. “Cesare, I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant and I’m afraid of losing the baby.”
I am full of emotions. I don’t know whether to jump in the air with excitement or if I should call the doctor to do a house call. I try to remain calm, but I’m afraid my voice doesn’t convey that emotion. “It’s okay, Kes. Whatever happens, you and I are in this together. Open the door and let me hold you, baby.”
“You’ll see the dress,” she whimpers.
Fuck the dress, but I can’t say that out loud, either. “I’ll put on a blindfold if you want me to. I’ll gouge out my eyes. I’ll do whatever you want; just let me hold you, Kessa. I know this wasn’t in our plans, and you’ve struggled with a miscarriage before, but I am with you no matter the outcome, honey. We are in this together.”
Kessa is quiet for a few moments longer before I hear her pull the shoe out from under the door. There’s some rustling on her side of the door, and then the knob twists. She’s sitting on the floor in a ball of tulle with her breasts hanging out of her dress because the back won’t zip up. “I’m afraid,” she whispers.
I crawl across the carpet to embrace her. “I know, baby. We can be afraid together.” The first thing I’m going to do when we get off this floor is call the doctor. We’re going to go into this knowing the best way to handle the pregnancy and any fallout. She didn’t know before what was wrong with her, but she does now. And Kessa and I will not have the same ending as she and Peter. This will not be what breaks us.
I have loved Kessa for eighteen years. Come hell or high water, I will love her for the next eighteen. And every eighteen years we have together beyond that. I have done unspeakable things to this woman in the name of love and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to her.
* * *
