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"Thanks to you," I say, rolling up my sleeve further to let the tattoo catch the dying sunlight. "You've got this uncanny way of making the worst parts of me feel like they're not so bad."
She reaches over, tracing the outline of the medical alert symbol with a tenderness that stirs something in me. "You've never been your condition, Constantino. You're so much more than that."
Her words are soothing but sobering—the truth in them resonates somewhere deep within. I've conquered more with my epilepsy than most men do at the peak of their health. Maybe it's time I start believing that too.
"More than just a pretty face and brains, aren't you, Doc?" I tease, watching her blush blend with the sunset.
"Keep it up, and I might throw you overboard," she retorts playfully, but there's pride in her gaze that tells me she knows the weight of what she's done for me.
The boat rocks gently beneath us, and I feel the power of the Maldonado name coursing through my veins. It's been a hell of a year, wrestling control back from the Irish, showing those who dared try and step into Declan’s place the error of their ways. It was Evelyn’s quick thinking in grabbing that laptop that really helped secure our rise. Giovanni hacked into it easily. Thingsmay have been much more difficult without all of that inside information.
My men didn't even flinch. Instead they showed me a loyalty I thought I'd never be able to get back. The Westies thought they could creep in, but we handled it.
Not that I had a choice. There was no way I was letting another threat rise. Not after everything we'd been through. The Maldonado name was back on top, where it belongs.
"Whatever happens," I say, pulling her close, the chill of the harbor air nothing compared to the warmth of her body against mine, "I've got you, and you've got me. We're more than the sum of our scars, Evelyn."
"Always," she whispers back, and as her lips meet mine, I taste the salt of the sea and the promise of a future.
I let myself drown in the sweetness of her.
When I break away, my heart's slamming against my ribs like it wants to break free. "Evelyn," I start, voice unsteady, "are you happy?"
Silence stretches, heavy and expectant. She searches my face as if she might find answers hidden in the lines of my scars and the shadow of my stubble.
"I've never been this happy," she admits after a lifetime passes in seconds. "It feels... weird."
"Good weird?" I ask, even though everything inside me tightens with the fear of her possible regret.
"Best kind of weird," she says, a smile playing on her lips. And just like that, the world rights itself again.
I push through the nerves, driven by a hope that feels like madness. Dropping to one knee, the boat's deck cold and hard beneath me, I fish the ring from my pocket—a circle of commitment that feels heavier than any gun I’ve ever wielded.
Her gasp splinters the air as I hold up the ring, a spark of diamond catching the nearing twilight. It's a beacon, a flare shotinto the dark expanse of our lives, illuminating the grimy corners of my soul with the possibility that someone like her could ever want someone like me.
"Constantino..." Her voice trembles, and I brace for the weight of whatever comes next.
My heart is a fistful of thunder in my chest, pounding loud enough to rival the waves against the boat. I clear my throat, the sound raspy as if I've been shouting for hours.
"Look, I know you've said you never wanted to remarry," I start, my voice rough around the edges. The wind picks at my words, threatens to carry them off before they reach her. "And let's be honest, men are shit. I'm the poster boy for that, aren't I?" I try to laugh, but it comes out like a choke.
She just watches me, those oceanic eyes of hers deep enough to drown in.
"But, little rabbit..." I push on, clutching the ring between my fingers like a lifeline. "Would you ever consider... I mean, could you possibly look past all that—look past me being me—and make me the luckiest bastard in the world by marrying me?"
There, I've said it—the question that could set my world ablaze or snuff it out like a candle flame in the Boston breeze. She hesitates, and my mind races through every possible outcome. Each second she doesn't answer, my demons howl louder, clawing at the insides of my skull, whispering she'll say no, that she'll walk away.
But then, she whispers, "Yes."
I'm up before I even realize it, slipping the ring onto her finger with hands that don't shake only because adrenaline has seized control. Then I'm kissing her fiercely, like I'm trying to pour every ounce of myself into her, every dark corner and hidden alleyway of my soul that I've kept locked away.
As our lips part, she's laughing, that sound more beautiful than any siren song, and she's telling me to behave. "You knowdamn well I can't behave. Not with you. Especially not when you're gonna be my wife."
"I guess I don't mind how wild you are," she teases.
"Wild doesn't even begin to cover it," I murmur against her ear, my hands growing bolder, tracing the curves that drive me insane. "How about we reenact that scene from 365 Days? You know, the one on the bow of the boat?"
The spark of mischief in her eye lights up the dusk. She nods, and that's all the permission I need. My hands are everywhere, grasping at her clothes, each touch igniting something within me that's been dormant for far too long.
"You're the most beautiful woman in the world, Evelyn Moretti," I growl against her skin, my words tinged with a raw edge of possession. "And you'll always be my reason for living."
The End.
