Page 42 of All is Not Lost

"Wow," I breathe out, watching her retreat with a sense of finality warming my chest. This is it—the closure I didn't realize I needed.

"Everything okay, amore mio?" Giovanni's voice, rich and reassuring, wraps around me as he comes up behind me, his hands finding my waist and pulling me against him.

"Better than okay," I reply, leaning back into his solid warmth. "That was the last loose end, now neatly tied up."

"Good," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Then come back to bed."

I turn in his arms, looking up into his face, all soft curves and tender lines in the faint moonlight streaming through the window. His eyes are filled with something playful and mischievous, and I can't help but laugh again as he scoops me up effortlessly and carries me back to our bed.

"Your laughter is my favorite melody," he whispers as he gently lays me down, the bed welcoming us back with familiar comfort.

"Yours is my favorite everything," I whisper back, my heart soaring as I pull him down to me.

Nope, I’m still no poet. I will have to leave that to Giovanni.

Our laughter intertwines, a symphony of joy and love filling the room, the house, and the very air we breathe. As we kiss, lost in each other once more, I know without a shadow of a doubt that this—us—is everything I've ever wanted.

Chapter

Sixteen

Giovanni's footsteps echo against the tiles the next evening, a rhythmic pacing that's out of sync with the calm I've come to associate with my sun-drenched living room. I’ve been away to do some shopping in town and just returned to find him there. He's a storm cloud in my tranquil villa, his dark curls tousled as if he's been running his hands through them in frustration.I’m not used to seeing him like this, and for a second, it makes me worry that something is wrong.

Does he regret everything? Does he not want a child after all? Does he not want me? Does he miss those carefree bachelor days?

"Amore mio," I call out softly, my heart hitching at the sight of him looking so uncharacteristically troubled.

He freezes and then turns to face me, a forced smile not quite reaching his deep-set eyes, which usually remind me of the serene waters of the Mediterranean. I take in the subtle tremor of his hands before they disappear into his pockets, concealing whatever secret has him wound up so tight.

"Is everything okay?" My voice is tentative, stepping closer to him, trying to read the situation like one of the many weathered books lining our shelves.

"Ah, Sophia." His accent wraps around my name, always a tender caress to my ears. Giovanni takes a deep breath, and I see it—the momentary flicker in his eyes as he glances down at his pocket before meeting my gaze again. "There is something I must ask you, something very important."

The air feels thick with anticipation, and I find myself holding my breath. Time slows, and the world outside our little sanctuary is irrelevant. It's just him, me, and the question that seems to weigh on him more heavily than anything I've seen before.

Giovanni's hand encloses mine, his touch warm and reassuring. He leads me through the arched doorway, and I step out into the embrace of the evening air, tinged with the scent of jasmine from the garden below. The terrace unfolds before us like a scene from a fairytale, draped in a tapestry of twinkling fairy lights that weave through the trellises and around the pillars. Candles flicker on every surface, their flames dancing to a silent melody, casting a soft glow on the stone floor.

"Wow," I breathe, the sight stealing the remnants of my worry. My heart flutters, not just from the enchantment of it all but from the realization that Giovanni did this for me—for us.

He doesn't speak at first. Instead, he stands beside me, allowing the magic of the moment to settle around us, as tangible as the cool breeze that plays with the loose strands of my hair. I turn to look at him, finding his gaze already fixed on me. In the dim light, the usual mirth in his eyes is replaced by an intensity that sends a ripple of something potent and thrilling down my spine.

"Sophia," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it resonates deep within me. "Every moment with you is a cherished memory. From the laughter we've shared to the quiet nights we've spent simply existing together, you've brought light back into my life."

He pauses, searching my face as if committing every detail to memory. His hand finds mine again, his thumb gently caressing my skin. "You see the world in ways that amaze me; your strength, your grace—it's like watching the morning sun dispel the shadows of night."

Here he goes again. Always the poet. Making himself so irresistible.

I can feel the warmth of his words wrap around me, a tender echo of the love I see shining in his eyes.

"I want to wake up every day to that light. I want to be the one who stands by your side through every chapter to come." Giovanni takes a deep breath, his chest rising against the backdrop of the candlelit terrace. "Sophia Bennett, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

The declaration hangs between us, profound and filled with a promise that stretches into the infinite expanse of our future. My heart beats wildly in my chest, echoing the sincerity in his voice and the earnest hope in his eyes.

Giovanni's breath hitches, and he reaches into his pocket with a hand that trembles just slightly. With the faintest rustle, he retrieves something small and glinting. My breath catches in my throat as I watch him, this man whose laughter is like music, whose every gesture speaks of care, descend to one knee before me.

"Amore mio," he begins, his voice a tender murmur that thrums through the soft evening air. The ring in his grasp catches the flickering light from the candles, sending a thousand little stars dancing across his face.

"Sophia, will you marry me?"

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