Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

“And beyond,” I remind him.

His eyes glimmer with humor. “Ghost Mia, too.”

“That’s right,” I mutter, with a decisive nod, watching as he slides my brand new wedding band on my finger.

The officiant is no more impressed by me than Mateo, but screw it; this is our wedding, we’ll do and say what we want.

Mateo’s vows continue. “I open my heart to you as a sanctuary where you may always come for strength or peace.”

I can’t hold back a dreamy sigh. That’s so true. Well, mostly. The strength part is always true, the peace is touch and go.

“I will love you and serve you, honor you and protect you. I vow today to spend the rest of my life with you, through good times and bad, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. I promise to always do my best and I am so honored to call you my wife.”

The officiant nods and turns to look at me, but Mateo adds a line, “Thank you for loving me.”

There it is. The tears. “Dammit, I was so close,” I whisper, bringing a shaky hand up to preemptively dab away the tears welling up and trying to ruin my composure.

“Sorry,” he says, dryly.

It’s hard not to kiss him again, but I restrain myself and repeat my own vows, much more shakily than he just did. I slide the ring I picked out for him on his finger, watching his face, hoping he likes it, but he’s not even looking at the ring—his eyes remain on me. The officiant doesn’t recite Mateo’s last improvised line, but I do.

“Thank you for loving me.”

The officiant consults his book, saying without looking at us, “Mia and Mateo, you have expressed your love and loyalty to one another before all assembled here. With these promises in mind, I pronounce you husband and wife.” Looking to Mateo, he says, “Now you may kiss the bride.”

It’s unreal to hear this man refer to me as Mateo’s bride, the newly announced wife.

Mateo Morelli is my husband. My husband.

He’s not as disoriented as I am, unsurprisingly enough. His arm snakes around my waist and he pulls me in close. His free hand cradles the left side of my face and he gives me my first official kiss as a married woman.

And boy, is it worth remembering.

Chapter Thirty Four

Mia

The first strains of At Last by Etta James play as Mateo sweeps me out onto the black and white dance floor. I consider it symbolism that the glimmering dance floor assembled in our back yard looks just like a chess board. I remember a time when I was certain I was his pawn, but now here we are, king and queen, sharing our first dance at our wedding reception.

“Is dancing always this sexy, or is it just you?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.

“It’s just me,” he assures me, solemnly.

I chuckle, hugging him close and leaning my head on his shoulder. “Probably. You make a lot of things sexy that shouldn’t be.”

“So do you,” he offers back. “You clearly made marriage sexy somehow, because here I am.”

I lean pull back to grin up at him. “Bet you never thought I’d be the one to drag you to the altar.”

“I was pretty sure we were going to drag you to the river; the altar was definitely not on the table.”

I roll my eyes, lightly pushing him in the chest. “You’re not supposed to bring up former plans to murder me on our wedding day. It’s not romantic.”

“Sure it is, you just have to present it the right way.”

He’s so crazy. I love him so much. I sigh and rest my head on his shoulder. The only problem with our wedding song is it’s so damn short. I want to stay out here on this dance floor with him forever.

It’s a gorgeous night and our backyard is aglow with white and gold. Tiny tea light lanterns hang from nearby trees, a wooden frame was built in the middle of the yard to hang strings and balls of white lights from. Beautifully dressed tables are set up around the dance floor, a band plays behind us. Ahead, the elegant cake Francesca made us—pink and gold, his favorite color and mine stacked on top of each other in five tiers—sits under a spotlight. Francesca surprised me with a smaller “bride’s” cake—a strawberry cassata cake shaped like a Christian Louboutin shoe box with a fondant shoe on top. It is awesome. Adrian was excited about the cassata cake, too. There’s so much food, an open bar, and lots of strangers I’m now related to by marriage strolling around.

It’s hard to believe this magical scene is ordinarily just a huge patch of grass.

“Everything is so perfect,” I murmur, pressing a tender kiss along Mateo’s neck.

His fingers lightly trail across my exposed shoulder, sending a thrill right through me before leaning in to own my ass with his neck kisses. “It sure is,” he murmurs.