Page 89 of Christmas Vows with the Devil

I see Aunt Carla throwing her head back and laughing with Rocco, her glass of red wine miraculously still in one piece.Shaking my head, I catch Rocco’s eye and he looks away, secretly enjoying her attention.

What an odd couple. Odd but still perfectly matched.

The clock ticks closer to midnight. There’s a surge in the energy of the room, everyone buzzing with excitement as the final moments of the year slip away. I drift through the crowd, past uncles and cousins and friends, until Dante’s hand catches mine, pulling me to his side.

"One more minute," he murmurs, his voice rough in that familiar way that sets every nerve alight. I smile up at him, reveling in his undivided attention.

Someone starts the countdown. “Ten...nine...eight...”

The voices get louder, turning into a chant, each second a heartbeat, closer to midnight. We’re surrounded by a sea of faces, all eyes fixed on the clock as it hitsthree ...two...one...

“Happy New Year!”

Voices explode around us, and confetti showers the room, bursts of gold and silver raining down like stars. Glasses clink, and someone pops another bottle of champagne. People are hugging, laughing, cheering.

But Dante doesn’t join the cheers or reach for a drink. Instead, he pulls me close, his dark eyes steady on mine.

His hand slips into his pocket, and then he’s down on one knee, right there in the middle of the crowded room. The world fades around us, everything going quiet as he takes my hand in his.

“Gianna Vitale,” he says, his voice low but sure, carrying above the noise. “Gia, my love.”

“Dante, what is this?” I laugh nervously, glancing around the room. All eyes are focused on us, anticipation growing as people elbow each other to get a better look. I spot my mother across the room, misty-eyed and a little drunk, hanging on my father’s arm.

“I don’t want another year to pass without you at my side,” he continues. “We’ve already lost six and that’s a damn shame.”

I stare, open-mouthed, as he opens a small velvet box, revealing a ring that catches the light and sparkles like the stars in the sky outside.

“Will you marry me?”

Time stops and the air whooshes out of my lungs. I hear my pulse, feel the weight of every promise we’ve ever made, every shared look, every risk taken. It’s all culminated in this one moment.

Tears prick at my eyes, blurring my vision, even though I promised myself I’d stop crying all the time. I can barely get the words out, my voice thick with emotion.

“Yes,” I tell him, coming out in a whisper. I try again, louder this time. “Yes, yes, of course, yes!”

Dante stands, pulling me to him, kissing me as the room erupts in applause and joyful cries, the noise a blur around us. I can only focus on his arms holding me tightly. The weight of the ring on my finger feels surreal, solid—like an anchor.

“I ran it past Matteo,” he whispers, holding me close. “He gave me his very solemn blessing. I had to make certain promises, though.”

I laugh through my tears, peppering his jaw with kisses, as family and friends descend on us to give us their best wishes.

The rest of the night is a whirlwind. People come forward, one by one, to hug us, clap Dante on the back, and offer me winks and grins. Aunt Carla insists on a wine-drunk speech that ends somewhat disastrously. Uncle Tony keeps trying to start a toast, but the excitement is too wild for anyone to focus.

My father comes up to me, his expression solemn, yet proud. He holds me close, and for once, words aren’t necessary. When he pats Dante on the back and welcomes him to the family, I know everything will work out.

Dante is never far from my side. His hand finds mine at every turn, his thumb brushing over the ring as if he’s as amazed by it as I am. At some point, he leans in close, whispering in my ear, “Always.”

I glance up at him, the champagne and wine clouding my vision. “Always.”

The night feels like a dream, each moment surreal. I lose track of time, of who I’ve hugged, of how many times I’ve been pulled to the dance floor, laughing and spinning, until my feet ache.

Midnight slips into morning, and the first light of the new year creeps over the horizon, soft and golden.

As the sun rises, casting a glow over the world, I lean into Dante, happier than I’ve ever been.

Epilogue

Dante

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