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Viktor’s eyes rushed.
“His ring.” I took the loose ring off my thumb and stretched it out between us.
His face warmed, and he took the ring.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” Viktor said, leaving me behind with the gift Lucca sent and the words trapped inside a closed envelope.
I turned, picked it up, and tore it open.
In neat writing and messy ink, his words marked the paper and stamped my heart.
Something blue.
Something new.
Forget something old.
Forget the war around us.
We are past the rules and the war of us. Now, tell me. How does infinite peace sound?
With me.
L
My heart soared. It yelled as my heart opened and clung to his written words. The promise, the question.
Tears pricked my eyes. Threatening to ruin the makeup that took the artist an hour to create, threatening my soul to pour with the feeling of belonging. Of finding a brutish bastard who cared forme. Who wanted me by his side without saying the words out loud for the wind to carry them away. But instead, engraved them in ink to be re-read. To be touched.
Lucca might believe he was incapable of love, but this, this was the beginning. And I’d never been more eager for my future. Giddy and optimistic.
I clutched my chest between my hands as a smile broke. As time slowed. As the weight freed by emotion and fervor.
In just a few short minutes, I would say I do. But now, it would be true, real. Bonding.
I carefully dropped his letter into my tote bag, afraid of losing such a gift if placed anywhere else but in my belongings. The black leather square box stared at me, and I couldn’t wait anymore. I cracked the lid open.
A tear fell on the beautiful and rare light blue diamonds that adorned a comb hair piece. But it wasn’t a normal comb. They were thin and dangerous needles. They would easily penetrate skin and slice while deep in flesh, only to continue its torture when ripped out. And as tears fell, I laughed, smiled, and wiped my nose.
It was gorgeous.
It was me.
It was mine.From him, and it made it that much more meaningful.
Without hesitation, I turned to the full mirror on my left and placed the intricate silver hair piece. I dabbed my eyes from any remaining tears and pushed back. Staring at the woman who looked back in a wedding dress fit for a queen, his queen. A woman who stared into my eyes with a hairpiece that took the place of a crown, and as she mimicked my curling lips, I felt complete.
Ready.
I was walking out of this room as Vitelli and walking out of the church as Moretti.
May the living be ready for another Moretti.
XLIV
LUCCA
Katia wanteda black and white wedding.
