Page 122 of Something Borrowed, Something You

“What is he saying? For titty? I think this bird was meant to be mine.”

I laughed. “Oh, no. He’s saying fottiti. There’re two things that made me buy Arnold. Fottiti is one of them. When I started looking at birds, I visited a bunch of shops. Last week I was in Tropical Paradise checking out the cages when I ran across Arnold. He kept yelling that word, but I had no idea what it meant… until my mother happened to call and hear it in the background. Apparently, fottiti is Italian for go fuck yourself. My mother was horrified, but I thought it was hysterical. Turns out Arnold here is eight years old. His previous owners—Giuseppe and Gianna Moretti—sold him back to the pet store because they were getting divorced. I thought poor Arnold here could use a happy home, and we could teach him some nice words to go with his singular vocabulary.”

“It’s fitting that we have a bird that curses in Italian.”

“Isn’t it?”

“What was the other thing?”

“Huh?”

“You said there were two things that made you buy him.”

“Oh!” I reached into my back pocket. “This is the freakiest thing. It sealed the deal that Arnold was meant to be our bird.”

I handed Hunter the paperwork the store had given me. The top page was the bill of sale. It listed all the relevant information, including the bird’s name, sex, breed, his sire and dam, and… the bird’s date of birth.

I waited for the reaction as Hunter perused the document. When his eyes went wide, I knew he’d read the date of birth.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope.” Our new boy had been born the same day as Hunter’s brother.

“You know that’s Jayce’s birthday.”

“Yep. I’d say this foul-mouthed bird was meant to be with us, wouldn’t you?”

After Hunter thanked me for his gift—and tried to feel me up in the process—he told me to wait in the living room because he had a little something for me, too.

He handed me a black box with a silver bow. Arnold was perched on his shoulder. I got the feeling he would be spending a lot of time there.

“It’s not nearly as awesome as Arnold, but this is for you.”

I slipped off the bow and opened the box. My eyes flared. “Is this…?”

Hunter flashed an impish grin. “It is.”

I lifted the familiar blue garter out of the box. It was the one he’d caught at Anna and Derek’s wedding and put on my leg after I’d caught the bouquet. “I asked twice if you knew what happened to this, and you said no.”

“I know. I lied. Something just told me I needed to keep it. I think deep down I knew I’d be taking it off your leg someday when I made you my wife. And even though I thought forever was impossible at the time, I held on to that thing like hope I refused to give up.”

“That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said.” I reached out and linked my fingers with his.

Of course, he used the connection to yank me against him. “Oh yeah? Does that buy me admission to your pants now?”

I married Hunter Delucia at dusk in a small ceremony in our backyard with our families and friends watching. I’d put tea light candles in all of the birdhouses that hung in the tree we stood beneath. It made it feel like his mother and brother were watching over us from above.

We’d found true love and health and were happy beyond what either of us could have ever imagined. When the minister said he could kiss the bride, my teary-eyed husband cupped my cheeks.

“I love you, Natalia Delucia. You’ve showed me what living means, and my heart will always be yours.”

His lips came down on mine before I could reciprocate the sentiment. But he knew. He knew.

I used to think Hunter Delucia had stolen a piece of my heart. But I was wrong. Because eventually, even the heart stops beating. This man stole a piece of my soul—because the soul lives forever, and so will my love for this beautiful man.

Epilogue

— Hunter —

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