Page 129 of It's Always Sonny

I almost regretted saying yes. Nonna isn’t to be trifled with. Then she told me the stipulation.

“I was worried it was going to be something hard,” I told her, even as the idea spread warmth through my veins and out to my extremities.

“It’ll be harder in the moment than you think. But you can do it.”

I can. Can’t I?

As the reality of what she asked approaches, my stomach starts clenching. It’s not ulcer pain but that butterfly feeling I’ve felt almost nonstop since having Sonny back in my life.

And that feeling is only going to intensify until I deliver on my promise to Nonna.

It’s show time.

Nonna and Bob are husband and wife.

Aunt Mary isn’t happy about it, but everyone else is having a great time. The reception feels like the family reunion all over again. Except this time, I’ve had a couple of months of therapy and a challenge from Nonna impelling me forward.

I ding my glass to give a toast.

All eyes are on me.

So many parental figures look expectantly at me.

And I love every one of them.

“I struggle to tell people how much I love them,” I say. “So it feels appropriate that Nonna, of all people, told me exactly what I need to say up here. I wrote it out and sent it to her for approval.”

“Which I gave,” Nonna says. “Now get talking.”

Titters of laughter meet her words.

“I’ve always had to find ways to do things for people to show my love for them. After Sonny told me he loved me for the first time, it took me weeks to say it back.”

“Months,” Sonny corrects from his seat next to me.

“Maybe,” I concede. “But every day, I dropped him off his favorite Boba tea and hoped he knew what I was trying to tell him.”

Sonny kisses my hand.

“I don’t want there to be any question of how I feel now. I know you’re all invested in Sonny’s happiness.”

“And yours!” Sienna calls.

“And mine.” I look around at the faces of so many people who love me. My friends and their husbands. Sonny’s siblings and parents, who look at me with smiles so similar to Sonny’s, I fall in love with all of them a little more. I look at his cousins, aunts and uncles, and all the young kids (who would just as soon I stop talking), and I love them for it.

Last, I look at Sonny, and the pavilion brightens. He is the sunshine of my life. The light in the darkness. He’s pulled me out of the abyss and his love has helped me realize that healing is possible and that wholeness trumps perfection every day of the week.

“Nonna, I’m happy for you. You’ve taught me a lot about how to be me and how to build a loving legacy as me. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be like you. You’re my hero. You gave me a special gift recently, one I have with me tonight. However, the greatest gift you’ve given me is your grandson.”

Nonna smiles.

I step back from the table with my hand in my pocket. Then I drop to my knee in front of Sonny’s chair, and take his hand.

I don’t have a way of amplifying my voice, but I don’t need one. What I have to say is for him alone. Which means, of course, that everyone has rushed over to surround us. After the initial gasps, approximately eight thousand Lucianos hopped up and ran around the table. My friends have elbowed through to the front of the crowd.

I’m never one for speeches, but grand gestures are my love language. “Our love story may not be the most conventional, but I’m grateful for every step because it brought us here. I have a very important question to ask you.”

His aqua eyes are dancing. “I’m ready.”

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