Page 222 of The One
His eyes soften, but his resolve doesn’t waver.
“I could never.”
He reaches for me, his large hands cupping my face.
“I love you, Mari. With a depth and a passion I never knew I was capable of. Nothing and nobody will stop me from being with you.
“I want to spend every single day of my life with you. To watch you get lost in your drawings, to listen to you hum when we cook together, to wake up to your beautiful smile.”
His thumb sweeps over my cheek, catching the tear that slips free. I lean into his touch, my watery gaze locked on his.
All I see is sincerity.
And love.
So much love.
“To share everything with you,” he continues, his voice rough with emotion. “First times, second times, a millionth times. And I don’t just mean sex,” he adds with a smirk when I blush.
“I want to watch you discover the world, to see it through your eyes. You appreciate everything. You love fiercely. And selfishly, I want to bask in that love.
“I thought when I found my One, I’d be head over heels, but I never expected this. To be so besotted that even a minute away from you feels like a thousand years.”
He drops to one knee, his gaze locked on mine. “Mariella Bianca Accardi, will you marry me… today?”
I choke on a sob. His eyes shimmer with tears too, his heart laid bare before me.
This is his third proposal. God, I really hope it happens this time.
“You think you’re besotted with me,” I whisper, “but I’ve been love-struck since I saw you on my sixteenth birthday. I’ve loved you from afar for four years, never believing this could become real. And through the craziest of circumstances, I got to know you, and I fell even deeper.”
I cup his face, my own shaking hands brushing against his scruff. “So to answer your question for the third time, will I marry you?”
I smile through my tears. “A thousand times… no, a gazillion times, YES.”
Chapter Eighty-Three
Mateo
Mari dips her fingers into the holy water, crossing herself before slipping her hand back into mine.
This is it.
The day I’ve waited a lifetime for.
The deep contentment filling my chest defies words.
I never imagined my wedding would be so low key, yet I wouldn’t want it any other way. While I’d give anything for Tiero and Ella to be here, this is perfect.
Mariella and I complete each other. Our love is grand, vast, and filling every corner of my world. But this moment? This moment is just for us.
I breathe steadily as we step into the vestibule. Sunlight filters through stained glass, casting a kaleidoscope of hues on the stone. The air smells of candle wax, incense, flowers, and holds the lingering hope of generations of whispered prayers.
I slow my steps, wanting to take it all in fully.
Mari glances up at me, studying my face before giving my fingers a reassuring squeeze.
Too soon, we reach the altar. Father Josef stands waiting, settled despite having flown in from Sicily this morning. I asked the local priest, Father Alessandro, who chats quietly with the gray-haired organist, to perform the ceremony since this is his church. But I wanted Father Josef here too. Asla famiglia’spriest, his presence is a valuable link to our heritage.
