Page 149 of Love Arranged
He cups my cheek. “I’d much rather be your boyfriend, if that’s an option.”
I stop breathing altogether, but who cares. Oxygen is overrated.
“You…what?”
“I thought about what you said yesterday, and you’re right—I am bothered by you talking about a future with another man because I so desperately want that man to beme.”
My mouth falls opens, but no words come out.
“I don’t want to lie to myself anymore about what we are. I don’t want topretend. I want you to be mine, not because of an arrangement but because you choose to be.”
“You mean that?”
“With every fiber of my being.”
“I’m supposed to believe you changed your mind less than twenty-four hours later?”
“I’ve been changing my mind forweeks, but last night forced me to accept what I’ve been denying for far too long.”
“What?”
“If I had a thirty-year plan, you’d be the woman I would want to share it with.”
Lorenzo once described falling in love as a collection of small, impactful moments, and this happens to be one of them for me.
I can feel it.
I slip my hand into Lorenzo’s, and together we head down the cobblestoned pathway. He tells me about how he’s visited the cemetery every Friday since he moved to Lake Wisteria, and I’m blown away by his commitment to visiting his parents’ graves.
It’s hard to not feel guilty when I don’t do the same, but Lorenzo reassures me that I have the fountain, which is far less morbid.
When Lorenzo heads to his parents’ tombstones, I hang back on the sidewalk, giving him space to talk to his parents. Their headstones look less weathered by time than the other ones nearby, and the bouquet Lorenzo picked up on Friday is placed in front of his mother’s resting place.
I blink twice at it. “Oh God.”
He looks up from his squatting position with a smile. “Not that you asked, but it was cute to watch you get jealous about them.”
“I was not jealous.” The words leave my mouth in a rush.
He stands to his full height. “You totally were.”
“Okay. Whatever. Let’s say I was a teeny, tiny bit jealous and pretend this conversation never happened.”
“Are you kidding? I’m writing all about it in my diary tonight.”
I huff.
He smiles, only for it to go from smug to somber when he looks back down at the headstones.
“Ciao, Mamma e Papà.”He starts speaking in Italian, so I have no idea what he is saying.
“Vi ho portato a Lily oggi, cosi potete finalmente conoscerla. Sono molto sicuro che la amereste piu di quanto amate me.”?*He looks back over his shoulder and smiles. It isn’t blinding—not that I expect it to be—but it does reach his eyes, which look a little less haunted than earlier today.
He continues speaking for a bit before calling me over. I place the flowers I brought beside Lorenzo’s bouquet before he wraps an arm around me and tugs me against him until there isn’t an inch of space between us.
“Hi.” I smile down at the headstones. “I’m Lily, your son’s…”
“Girlfriend,” he says without missing a beat.
