It filled the air with its fragrance; it glowed with what Tally was sure were a thousand white fairy lights. The flames on the hearth in the wall-long fireplace danced on the gleaming surfaces of the gold and silver balls that hung from the tree. Gaily wrapped packages spilled from under the branches, though Sam, squealing with delight, had already opened most of hers.
Champagne was chilling in silver buckets; caviar sat in a silver dish. Everything was perfect…and a little before two, the doorman brought up an enormous white box. Inside was a magnificent gown of lace and seed pearls, straight from the atelier of a world-famous designer.
It was the sort of gown princesses wear in the fairy tales little girls read.
Except, Tally thought when she finally stood beside her gorgeous groom and looked up into his eyes, except, this was no fairy tale.
This was real. It was true love, and it would last forever.
“Do you take this woman,” the judge intoned, and Dante short-circuited things by saying “Yes.”
The perfect P.A., who was one of the guests, laughed. So did Mrs. Tipton and so did Samantha, who she held against her bosom.
Dante brought his bride’s hand to his lips. They smiled into each other’s eyes. Then they gave the judge all their attention. Slowly, and with deep meaning, they took the vows that would forever unite them.
Moments later, they were husband and wife. Dante gathered his bride to him and kissed her again.
“I will love you forever, inamorata,” he said softly.
Tally smiled through tears of happiness. “As I will love you,” she whispered.
“Me, too,” Sam said.
Everyone laughed as the baby made her pronouncement.
“Down,” she told Mrs. Tipton, with all the imperiousness of a two-year-old. She toddled to her parents and held up her arms. “Up,” she commanded.
Dante, a man who never took orders from anyone, happily took this one and settled his daughter into the curve of his arm.
“Mama,” Sam said, touching a chubby hand to Tally’s cheek.
She looked at Dante, who smiled and waited for her to call him Da-Tay.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she put a little hand on each side of his face and said, “Dada.”
Dante’s eyes filled. He looked at his wife, and Tally smiled.
“Merry Christmas, beloved,” she whispered.
“Buon natale, inamorata,” he said softly.
Their daughter laughed, and flung her arms around them both.