Chapter 12 - THE JOURNEY HOME
The salty breeze of the Mediterranean Sea blew through the open windows of the coastal villa.
We had been in Naples for a week.
It felt like a dream I never wanted to wake up from.
Luca had rented a massive, beautiful estate overlooking the blue waters of the Amalfi Coast. Lemon groves stretched for miles, filling the air with a sweet, sharp perfume.
Roberto was in his element. He walked around his homeland with his chest puffed out, holding Isabella’s hand and showing her all the places her mother used to play.
“And right here,” Roberto said, pointing to a cobblestone square outside a small bakery. “This is where your mother stole a loaf of bread when she was seven, and the baker chased her all the way to the docks!”
Isabella giggled loudly, eating a massive scoop of gelato. “Mommy was a thief?!”
“A very fast thief,” Roberto laughed.
I watched them from the terrace, leaning against the stone railing.
My mother was resting inside. The doctors in Chicago had cleared her for travel, and the Mediterranean air seemed to bring color back to her cheeks. She was sitting in the shade, reading a book, finally at peace.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
Luca rested his chin on my shoulder, looking out at his daughter and her uncle.
“She’s laughing so much louder these days,” Luca murmured.
“She’s happy,” I smiled, leaning back against his solid chest. “She feels safe.”
“We all do,” he said softly.
He turned me around to face him.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. But this one was different from the one that held my grandmother’s necklace.
It was a small, square ring box.
“We get married tomorrow,” Luca said, his dark eyes locked onto mine. “But I realized I never officially gave you a ring.”
He opened the box.
Inside sat a breathtaking, vintage diamond ring, flanked by two small, deep blue sapphires that perfectly matched my necklace.
“It belonged to my mother,” Luca explained, his voice thick with emotion. “My father gave it to her when they were young, before the money, before the wars. When they were just two kids in love.”
I covered my mouth as tears sprang to my eyes.
He took the ring out and gently slid it onto my finger. It fit perfectly.
“I promise to protect you, Emily,” Luca whispered, kissing my knuckles. “I promise to love you. I promise that from this day forward, our family will never know fear again.”
I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.
The next morning, in a small, ancient stone church overlooking the ocean, we were married.
There were no mafia bosses. There were no armed guards. There were no forced smiles or hidden agendas.
It was just family.
My mother wept quietly in the front row. Roberto stood as Luca’s best man.
And Isabella, wearing a beautiful white dress with a crown of yellow lemon blossoms in her hair, walked down the aisle tossing petals.
When the priest pronounced us husband and wife, Luca kissed me, and the small congregation cheered.
After the ceremony, we walked out onto the stone cliffs overlooking the sea.
Isabella ran up to us, holding a small bouquet of wildflowers.
She looked up at me with bright, happy eyes.
“Emily?” she asked softly.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Can I call you Mom now?”
My heart swelled until I thought it might burst. I dropped to my knees, not caring about the dust on my wedding dress, and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“You can call me Mom forever,” I promised, crying into her dark curls.
Luca knelt beside us, wrapping his massive arms around both of us, holding us tight against the Italian breeze.
I looked out at the ocean.
The ghosts of the past were finally laid to rest. The secrets were uncovered. The villains were defeated.
I was no longer just the twenty-five-year-old maid hiding in the shadows of a Chicago mansion.
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I was a mother. I was a wife.
And I was finally home.
