Page 103 of Claimed By the Enemy
I consider this, watching Isabella’s tiny chest rise and fall in the dappled sunlight. “Sometimes. But then I remember what we were both like when we thought we had to hate each other.”
“Miserable.”
“Completely miserable. Now I wake up every morning next to the man I love, with our daughter sleeping in the next room, and I can’t imagine ever wanting to go back to the way things were.”
“Even when I steal the covers?”
“Especially when you steal the covers. It gives me an excuse to move closer.”
Dom laughs, the sound carrying across the vineyard where Uncle Enzo is inspecting the grape vines.
It’s strange seeing him like this: peaceful, productive, focused on growing things instead of destroying them.
The transition from vengeful patriarch to doting great-uncle hasn’t been seamless, but watching him with Isabella has shown me a side of him I never knew existed.
“He’s happy,” Dom observes, following my gaze.
“He is. I think this is what he was meant to do all along, before…” I trail off, not wanting to invoke the shadow of Riccardo even on such a perfect day.
“Before he was poisoned by lies.”
“We all were.”
“Not anymore.”
Dom is right. Riccardo died in prison eight months ago—a heart attack, the warden said, though none of us mourned his passing. With him gone, the last traces of the manufactured hatred between our families died too.
“Sophie?”
“Hmm?”
“There’s something I want to ask you.”
I look at him suspiciously. “If this is about having another baby, we’ve discussed this. Isabella is three months old. Ask me again in a year.”
“It’s not about another baby. Although…” Dom grins. “We should definitely revisit that conversation.”
“Dom.”
“It’s not about a baby. It’s about this.”
He reaches into the picnic basket and pulls out a small velvet box. It looks like a ring box - something different. Flatter.
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
Inside the box are two rings. Simple gold bands, engraved with words I have to squint to read in the afternoon light.
Ti amo per sempre
I love you forever.
“Dom…”
“Sophie Moretti, will you renew your vows with me? Here, where your story began, where our story is continuing?”
“We just got married six months ago.”
