Epilogue

Nolan

One Month Later …

The aroma of wood-fired pizza wafted through the air, mingling with the salty breeze off the Bay of Naples in Italy. I sat at a long table with my favorite people in the world, surrounded by the vibrant energy of the Napoli Pizza Village. Fifty of the best local pizzerias lined the waterfront, their stands a gauntlet of culinary temptation.

"I've died and gone to pizza heaven," Tyson declared, his eyes wide as he glanced at the live band on the stage and then took another bite.

Jing playfully elbowed him. "You said that three slices ago."

"And I will say it again after my fourth and fifth and sixth slices," he retorted, reaching for another slice. "This is unbelievably scrumptious."

Watching them interact brought a smile to my face. Ever since Zena and I set them up at Lucha Libre, Tyson and Jing have been inseparable. The way they looked at each other, finishing each other's sentences and sharing inside jokes, it was clear they had fallen hard and fast, like Zena and I had. And the best part was, we could go on double-dates together.

I glanced across the table at my parents, who were deep in conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Dalton, swapping stories and laughing like old friends. I loved that the Daltons did not hesitate for a moment to invite them on this family trip, along with Jing and Tyson. Despite being quite different, my parents with their Midwestern charm and the Daltons with their cosmopolitan flair, they had hit it off immediately. It was as if they'd known each other for years, their contrasting personalities complementing each other perfectly. Watching them all together, I realized that sometimes the most unlikely combinations make for the best experiences, whether in friendships, love, or even on a pizza.

"Do you mind grabbing more napkins?" Zena asked, showing me the pizza sauce on her fingers. "And maybe a bib would be good."

I chuckled. "Be right back."

I pushed myself up from the table, my muscles protesting the movement. As I navigated through the bustling crowd of thousands toward the nearest booth, the aroma of freshly baked dough and melting cheese enveloped me. I waved and smiled at a chef who tossed a pizza into the air with practiced ease, each spin and catch a testament to years and tradition of perfecting their craft.

Reaching the napkin dispenser, I grabbed a generous handful, then walked back, each step reminding me of the hockey game in Dallas. My thighs burned, my back ached, and I was pretty sure I had bruises in places I didn't even know about.

As I approached our table, I saw Zena watching me, her eyes narrowing slightly in concern. Lowering myself back into my seat, I couldn't suppress a slight wince as my butt hit the chair.

"Here you go," I said, placing the napkins on the table and hoping my discomfort wasn't as obvious as it felt.

Zena's hand was immediately on my arm, her eyes concerned. "I see you're still feeling some pain."

I smiled. "It's a good pain, though."

My mind drifted back to that surreal hockey game in Dallas. Hopping over the boards for my first shift on the ice, the familiar yet long-absent surge of adrenaline racing through my veins. The chill of the arena air on my face, the weight of the Sea Lions jersey and pads on my shoulders, it all felt like a dream.

I wasn't delusional. The doctors' warnings from years ago still echoed in my head, telling me that playing at this level again could do permanent damage. My body wasn't built for this punishment anymore, not after the multiple surgeries. But for just one game, a few carefully managed shifts? I could handle that. I had to. It was my one shot at tasting that old dream again, come what may.

The first time I was checked into the boards, the impact rattling my bones, I felt truly alive. Every second on the ice was magnificent, from the burn in my legs as I raced down the length of the rink to the satisfying thwack of my stick connecting with the puck.

And then, in the final minute of the game, it happened. The puck found its way to my stick. I saw the opening, took the shot, and watched as it sailed past the goalie's outstretched glove. The red light flashed, and for a moment, the arena fell silent before erupting in a chorus of boos directed at me from the Dallas fans.

And I loved every second.

I was a star for the briefest of moments.

An impossible dream that had come true.

I had scored the game-winning goal in my one and only NHL game. My teammates mobbed me, their excited shouts drowning out the disappointed crowd. In that moment, I was exactly where I was meant to be.

"Earth to Nolan," Zena's voice brought me back to the present. "Were you back at the game again?"

I squeezed her hand. "Just reliving the moment. I still can't believe it happened."

"It happened, and you were amazing," she said with a smile. "And I've got a recording of the broadcast, so we can watch it as much as we want."

"You're the best, you know that?" I leaned in to kiss her.

"I know." Zena winked.

"We need to finish up here," Mr. Dalton suddenly said. "The tour boat leaves in twenty minutes."

"We don't want to miss it!" Mrs. Dalton said with a smile.

As we finished our last slices of pizza, my thoughts drifted to the evening ahead. I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anticipation for the vow renewal ceremony later that evening. Zena and I had been speculating for weeks about what her parents had planned, given their penchant for luxury. Whatever it was, I was sure it would be nothing short of spectacular.

But the genuine thrill came from the surprise I had in store for Zena after the vow renewal dinner. Thinking about it sent a jolt of electricity through my body, like the surge of adrenaline right before I had hopped on the ice in Dallas. She had no idea what was coming, and keeping this secret hadn't been easy.

We made our way to the tour boat, the Bay of Naples sparkling like a sea of sapphires under the brilliant afternoon sun. The excited chatter of our group mingled with the cries of circling seagulls and the rhythmic lapping of waves against the dock.

I gestured to the uneven ramp as we boarded the boat. "Watch your step."

"Such a gentleman," Zena said.

The two-hour cruise along the Neapolitan coast was nothing short of breathtaking. As we left the bustling port of Naples, brightly painted fishing boats bobbed in the waters, their reflections shimmering on the surface.

We cruised past Sorrento, perched high on the cliffs, while Zena stood at the railing, her face aglow with wonder. I joined her, our fingers lacing naturally as we took in the awe-inspiring views. The coastline unfurled before us like a living postcard, pastel-hued houses clinging to sun-kissed cliffs.

"I never imagined it would be this beautiful," she said as she scanned the coastline and inhaled a breath of fresh sea air.

I squeezed her hand, captivated as much by the joy radiating from her as by the scenery itself.

"It's incredible," I agreed, though I wasn't just talking about the landscape. "And this is just the beginning."

Over the next few weeks, we would explore Italy's rich tapestry of history, culture, and cuisine. From the ancient world of Pompeii, to Rome, Florence, Venice, and the Amalfi Coast, this incredible journey wasn't only a vacation; it was a celebration of love, not just the Daltons', but ours as well.

Four hours after the boat tour, and after a whirlwind of excited preparation at the hotel, we stood on the threshold of something magical, Castello Medioevale. I found myself in awe of the scene before me. The ancient stone walls of the ninth-century castle, built by the Duke of Sorrento, stood as a testament to enduring love, fitting for the celebration we were about to witness.

"Ready for an unforgettable evening?" I asked.

Zena smiled at me. "With you? Always."

Little did she know how unforgettable this night would be.

Mr. and Mrs. Dalton stood hand in hand before the castle's tower, silhouetted against the breathtaking panorama of the Gulf of Naples. It was the same view that had inspired artists for centuries.

Father Giuseppe, an older Italian gentleman with twinkling eyes and an infectious smile, began the ceremony. His accented English added a charming authenticity to the proceedings.

"Welcome, welcome, my friends!" He beamed, his arms spread wide. "We gather here today in this beautiful castello , where love has flourished for centuries." Father Giuseppe paused, gazing at all of us, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Now, I must confess, when I first heard about a vow renewal, I thought perhaps someone had forgotten their promises and needed a reminder!" He winked at Mr. Dalton. "But no, no! These two have not forgotten. Instead, they wish to reaffirm their love, to show us all that true amore is not just for the young, but also for the young at heart."

Father Giuseppe turned to the guests, his smile wide. "Now, let us witness as these two lovebirds—or perhaps sea lions is a much better term—renew their commitment to each other. And remember, if you hear a rumbling, do not worry! It is not Mount Vesuvius awakening, but merely the sound of two hearts beating as one!"

We laughed, then Father Giuseppe turned back to Zena's parents, ready to begin the ceremony. The mix of humor and heartfelt sincerity in his words set the perfect tone for the joyous occasion that unfolded and segued beautifully into their vows.

"Thirty years ago," Mr. Dalton began, his voice filled with emotion, "I promised to love you through all of life's seasons. Today, I stand here, grateful for every moment, the sunshine and the storms, that we've weathered together. You are my anchor, my compass, and my home."

Mrs. Dalton's eyes sparkled brightly as she responded, "Three decades have flown by in the blink of an eye, yet I fall more and more in love with you each day. You've been my greatest adventure, my staunchest supporter, and my truest friend. I vow to continue growing with you, laughing with you, and loving you for all the days to come."

As they sealed their renewed vows with a kiss, the sky turned to hues of pink and orange, as if nature itself were celebrating their love. We erupted in applause and cheers, and I felt Zena's hand squeeze mine, her eyes misty with happy tears.

The wedding planner led us to a few picturesque spots around the castle for photos. Our first stop was the ancient drawbridge. The wood, worn smooth by centuries of use, creaked softly under our feet as the rusted iron chains hung on either side.

Next, we climbed the winding stone staircase to the top of the Torre Maestra , the castle's main tower. The 360-degree view from up there was breathtaking. As the sun dipped even lower on the horizon, the photographer snapped some truly magical shots of them silhouetted against the sky.

The final photo spot was in the castle's lush Giardino Segreto , or Secret Garden. Hidden behind high stone walls, this secluded spot was a splash of colorful flowers and fragrant herbs. The intimate photos of Mr. and Mrs. Dalton, framed by an ancient stone archway covered in climbing roses, were absolutely gorgeous and romantic.

As the light faded, we made our way to the castle terrace for dinner. The all-white theme, which Mrs. Dalton had envisioned, lent an air of timeless elegance to the celebration. The space had been transformed into an enchanting dining area, with twinkling lights strung overhead and tables adorned with elegant white floral centerpieces. The Naples skyline glittered in the distance, providing a stunning canopy for the evening's festivities.

The event's culinary journey began with a classic bruschetta, featuring crusty Italian bread topped with ripe tomatoes, garlic, and fresh basil, drizzled with extra-virgin olive oil from a local grove. For the main course, we savored a mouthwatering chicken saltimbocca—a tender chicken breast wrapped in prosciutto and sage, served alongside creamy polenta and roasted vegetables from the castle's garden, all perfectly complemented by a crisp Pinot grigio.

Mr. Dalton stood, raising his glass.

The chatter around the tables quieted as all eyes turned to him.

"A toast!" he said. "Thirty years ago, I thought I knew what love was when I married this extraordinary woman beside me." He smiled down at her. "But every day since then, Elena has shown me new depths to that word." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the gathering before settling on Zena and me. "To love that endures, to friendships that enrich our lives, and to enjoying each day to the fullest. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" we all echoed, the crystal glasses clinking melodiously.

Zena's eyes shined with wonder as she took a sip of her wine. "This place is crazy cool and the food is absolutely amazing."

I couldn't have agreed more, and I felt more relaxed than ever. But after we'd finished dinner, and the plates had been cleared, Mr. Dalton winked at me, the signal that the surprise was coming in a few short minutes.

Mr. and Mrs. Dalton stood and walked over to their wedding cake. They each cut a portion, feeding each other a slice amidst applause and cheers.

It was game time.

My heart rate picked up.

Here we go …

Mr. Dalton carefully removed the miniature chocolate castle cake topper and walked it over to our table.

"Nolan, Zena," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "we'd like you two to have this, our way of saying thanks for everything. This castle is entirely edible. Break off some and enjoy. For the rest of you, cake will be served shortly."

Zena's face lit up. "What a great idea!" Without hesitation, she snapped the castle tower in half, taking a bite and letting out a delighted "Mmm!" before offering me a taste.

My heart thundered in my chest as I took a bite, knowing this was it. It was time for the surprise. As Zena went for another piece, her fingers brushed against something inside the tower and her forehead creased in curiosity.

"What's this?" she asked. "A little box …" Her eyes went wide and her neck craned in my direction. "Is that what I think it is?"

I pulled the ring box from the cake topper.

Zena's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears.

Right on cue, two local musicians strolled in and played a romantic Italian song as I led her to the heart-shaped pattern of rose petals the Daltons' wedding planner had laid out in the center of the terrace.

I dropped to one knee, ignoring my aching muscles and the phones pointed at us. Then I opened the box, revealing the diamond ring nestled inside.

"Zena," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "From the moment I met you, my life has been one amazing adventure after another. A wild ride, even crazy, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I love you so much, and I want you to be my teammate for life." I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. "Zena Dalton, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?"

Zena nodded vigorously, tears of joy streaming down her face. "Yes! Yes! A thousand times, yes!"

I slipped the ring onto her finger, my own eyes misty with emotion. As I stood, Zena threw her arms around me, and we shared a kiss. The terrace erupted in cheers and applause, but all I could focus on was the woman in my arms, my fiancée, my future wife.

When we finally broke apart, both of us grinning like fools, Zena admired the ring, then glanced at me. "You sneaky man." She laughed, her voice full of love and joy. "I can't believe you pulled this off without me finding out!" She pointed to her parents. "And you were in on it! Did anyone else know?"

Tyson, Jing, and my parents all raised their hands, laughing.

I shrugged. "I guess you could say it was a team effort."

Under the twinkling stars of the Mediterranean, with the historic castle as our backdrop, and surrounded by loved ones and friends, we'd written a new playbook. One where love, not hockey, was the name of the game.

THE END