Epilogue

EPILOGUE

TWO YEARS LATER: CHLOE

M y mother is pinning the last of my hair in place when there’s a knock on the door. “Come in,” she calls, then immediately stiffens. For a second, I think she’s going to throw a pillow at Paolo to get him to leave the room, but he raises both hands in surrender.

“Hey, Mrs. Fontana,” he says, grinning at her.

I thought he’d looked smart the first time we got married, but that was nothing compared to how he looks now. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored suit, a crisp bow tie, his hair styled so every strand is in the perfect place, his brown eyes sparkling with joy. He couldn’t be more handsome if he tried.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” says Mom. “And how many times have I told you to call me by my name?”

He throws up his hands again. “I’m just trying to be polite.”

“And I’m just trying to get my daughter through this wedding.”

“Mom, it’s okay,” I say, reaching out to put my hand on her arm. “They’re weird in Bellamare. They don’t really believe in the ‘bad luck to see the bride before the wedding’ thing. And besides, we’re already married.”

“Sort of,” says Mom.

“And anyway,” interrupts Paolo, “I haven’t come to see either of you two. I missed my baby.”

As if on cue, Antonio blinks his eyes open. He’s been curled up on the huge armchair in the corner, asleep. I tried to get him not to, so he didn’t wrinkle his tiny suit, but he didn’t want to take the suit off, and he didn’t want to stay awake.

In the end, I relented and let him have a little nap.

“Da!” he calls out, opening his arms to make Paolo come to him.

With a grin, Paolo does, rushing towards our baby, sweeping him up in his arms and spinning him round in circles.

“Careful,” I sigh, and Paolo sticks his tongue out at me.

I knew he would be a good dad, and he’s spent the last two years proving that to me. I don’t think his mother has liked that it’s taken two years for us to be ready for the wedding, but now that I know her a little better, I can tell she likes me really.

Plus, she’s really good with Antonio.

Of course, my mom is an awesome grandmother, but I hadn’t expected Paolo’s parents to care as much as they do. Ever since that day when he confessed everything to them, I think they’ve all realized that they’ve been wrong about a lot of stuff.

And I’m glad they have, because they’re a great family. At least, his parents are. His brothers aren’t exactly liking the extra attention Paolo has been getting, or the way he’s been forgiven, but he’s closer than ever with his parents, and I love seeing it.

He loves my mom too. We’ve flown her over for the wedding, and she’s been fussing over me for days trying to get me ready.

“Oh, Chloe!” she says, squinting at her phone. I roll my eyes. Today is not the day for the reading-glasses conversation again. “Another one of your paintings has sold.”

“Which one?” asks Paolo, now rolling on the floor with Antonio.

“Get up!” sighs Mom. “You’ll ruin your suit!”

He shrugs as best he can from the floor with a baby on top of him. “No one will notice. Which painting?”

“The big blue one,” says Mom.

I shake my head in despair. I love them both, and they’ve been so supportive of my gallery, but neither of them know the first thing about art. But I couldn’t have done any of it without either of them. I just ran my first exhibition, and I’m still amazed by how well it went.

People really liked my work. A critic wrote nice things about it online.

And now I’m getting married, for real, to the love of my life.

“Aw, man,” says Paolo, finally getting up. “I liked the big blue one.”

“Then you should have bought it,” I say, sticking up my chin to invite him for a kiss. He doesn’t let me down, but our lips barely touch before my mother is shooing him away.

“Please, Paolo. Go and get ready. I swear, I can’t take the stress of you two. There’ll be plenty of time for all that later.”

“Okay, Mrs. Fontana,” he grins, winding her up on purpose. “We’ve got some hard work to do to give Antonio a sister.”

“Go!” she demands, shaking her head in fond amusement.

He blows me a kiss, picks Antonio up for one last spin, then waltzes out of the room.

“That boy,” sighs Mom, smiling at me. “I don’t know what you see in him.”

“Yes you do,” I say, grinning back.

Antonio waddles over to me and flops on the floor, wrapping himself around my leg. I reach down to ruffle his hair, then take my mother’s hand. “I love you guys,” I grin. And as I look at myself in the mirror, here in my wedding dress with my mom and my baby and my husband just outside, I know that everything is just the way it’s meant to be. Like perfect fate.

The End

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