Stolen: Dante's Vow

“You make me crazy.”

Her hands are at my belt again, but I pull them away.

“What? You get a taste, and I don’t?” she asks.

I smile wide. “I have a gift for you first.”

She pauses. She must see something on my face. “A gift? You didn’t have to give me a gift.” Her eyes get teary. It makes me a little sad to see this still. She’s so unused to kindness even after more than a year with me, with her family. But I shove those thoughts aside.

“I wanted to,” I tell her, kissing her once more as I reach into my pocket and palm the ring.

“Dante?” her smile wavers and her eyes mist.

“Destiny you said. Do you remember that?”

She nods, a tear dropping down her cheek.

“You believed in us from the start. And while I still believe you can do a lot better than me,” I start, taking her left hand as she sniffles and sliding the ring onto her finger. “I’m not letting you go. Ever. You’re my destiny, Mara. Will you marry me?”

She smiles through her tears, and I think I can watch her all day. I think I can just watch her face, all her expressions, her emotions. I love her so fucking much I don’t know how I existed without her.

She looks up at me and nods, leaning in to hug me tight. “Destiny,” she whispers. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Epilogue 2

Mara

Three Months Later

We are to be married on the beach at sunset. Neither of us wanted to wait. What’s the point of a long engagement? I don’t want to lose any more time.

It’s almost time as I look out onto the small gathering. It’s just our families, everyone barefoot, the women in pretty dresses, the men in casual suits. Dante is already at the makeshift altar, a beautiful arch he and Cristiano built together. I didn’t know he could do that. It’s draped with white silks and decorated with hundreds of wildflowers in every color with red poppies being prominent. It’s so pretty I can’t believe it. The chairs too have bouquets tied to them and white silk ribbon blows in the sea breeze.

The sun will be setting soon. And on cue, there’s a knock on my door.

“Come in,” I say, turning, picking up my bunch of wildflowers.

My father and Noah enter. My father. It’s so strange. So unreal. I have a father. And he’s kind and a little bit lonely, I think. Or maybe what I see is the regret at the lost years.

“Wow,” Noah says as my father’s eyes grow watery.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I’m wearing a simple white dress. It’s the softest organza silk with spaghetti straps and a small train behind me. My hair is woven with baby’s breath as well as one lone sapphire comb. A gift from my grandmother. It’s an antique her mother wore at her wedding and Lenore wore at hers. My mother never had a chance to wear it.

“You look beautiful,” my father says.

“Thank you.”

“We’d better go down,” Noah says.

“Just one minute.” My father reaches into his pocket to take something out. “I have something for you.”

Noah slips out subtly and I look up at my father.

“You made me very happy when you asked me to walk you down the aisle. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course, I did. I wanted you to.”

“You didn’t but I’m happy you did. And I’m just happy to have found you and I want you to know however much time you need, I won’t rush you.”

“I’m glad I found you too.”

He holds his palm up and inside it is a key. “This is for you and your husband. You’re always welcome. My home is yours whenever you’re ready.”

I smile, look up at him and I hug him. I’m happy to see each time we go to stay at his house that more and more of it is opened, windows no longer shuttered, life slowly returning. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I’m so glad you’re here.”

A knock comes on the door again and we straighten, both of us wiping our eyes. Noah peers in. “Sunset…” he says.