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I screw my eyes tight shut, but I’m peeking, and he knows it. I can’t stop giggling.
“Ah. You are cheating! Shame on you, Libby.” Gianni covers my eyes with his hands. “We will have to do it this way.”
Gianni steers me gently past the sofa. I put my hand out to feel the fabric of the colorful cushions and I know I am standing in the middle of the room facing the fireplace. Gianni removes his hands. I blink a couple of times as my eyes recover from being closed up in the dark and I focus on the wall above the open fire.
“Oh my!” I cry out with surprise and delight. “It’s the Bartoli. It’s the Ponte Vecchio Bartoli painting! Oh, Gianni, I thought it was…”
“Gone?”
“Yes. Gone forever. How did you get it?”
“Oh, well, there was this little sale in New York and so, I just outbid everyone else.”
“How did you know it was for sale?”
“Libby, my love. You underestimate me and my connections. I’m an art dealer, as you know. I keep an eye on international sales and also… Henry told me.”
“Henry. Told you?”
“Yes. He didn’t say that it was you who was selling. He just messaged me about a rare and beautiful Italian picture that had come on the market, and would I be interested? So, of course, when I saw the painting on the website, I had to have it… To give back to you.”
“You are the nicest, kindest, most thoughtful person I have ever met. Gianni Moretti, my wonderful husband, I love you so much!”
I reach up to touch Gianni’s lips and he bends down to kiss me, wrapping me in his warm marvelous arms. It feels like heaven.
Epilogue
Gianni
LifeatElCampodi Ama is busy and sometimes frustrating but always satisfying. The winery, which started out as tumbled-down shells of stone buildings, is now on the tourism website as one of the top ten for visitors to the area. It has taken a lot of hard work from both of us and support from my parents but am so proud of what we have achieved.
I have learned a lot about winemaking, from growing grapes to bottling the final product. We also have a Michelin-star restaurant which is open all year round.
Libby helps out in the winery, but mostly she paints. It’s wonderful to watch her. She is so happy painting in her studio or sketching out in the country. Her gallery is a visitor destination just as much as the vineyard and the restaurant. We often host group shows of local artists. Our place is the hub of the community.
Sometimes, on warm sunny days, we take the Alfa Romeo out for a drive. With the top down and the wind whooshing in our hair, there are few greater pleasures. I drive out to a river not far from our house. The winding road zigzags to a place where I park the car under a tree. Libby and I walk together down a track to reeds at the water’s edge. It’s peaceful. The only sounds come from birds and the breeze ruffling the branches.
“Come over here,” says Libby sitting down on the grassy bank in the shade. “I want to tell you something.” Her face is impish with mischief. “I have a surprise for you.”
“What is it? You look as if you have a secret.”
“Yes. I do. I wonder if you can guess what it is…” Libby leans back on her elbows and looks down at her belly.
“Mama Mia! No. Are you sure?” I throw myself down beside my beautiful wife and place my hand gently on her to feel for swelling. “I don’t feel anything.”
“Not yet, Gianni.” Libby laughs. “But I took the test and, yes, Luisa is going to have a baby brother or sister.”
“That’s wonderful news! That’s the best news.” I can’t contain myself. “I couldn’t imagine being happier. I love you. I love you. I love you. Libby, you are the most beautiful woman in the whole world.” And we kiss and keep kissing until the sun begins to go down behind the church of Santa Maria in Panzano, on the hill where we were married.
In that moment, the years melt away and I am in Firenze on the Ponte Vecchio, kissing a golden-haired angel. She is The One. My love who I thought was lost forever. But she is here with me, and I am happy beyond anything I ever imagined.
“La mia bella donna. Ti amo per sempre.”
