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“No! My life is in Italy. My friends are there. I can’t move now. I’m too settled in my ways.”
“Okay. But, the offer stands. You are always welcome.”
“I’ll think about it. Now go get dressed. You can’t be late for your own wedding.”
* * *
Elio is standing next to me at the altar. I’m less nervous now than I was when I asked Mia’s father for her hand in marriage—but not by much.
“Scared she’s going to leave you standing at the altar, are you,” Elio asks in a low voice, smirking like a naughty kid.
“Shut up! Sorry, Father.”
The priest gives me a knowing wink. I’m sure he’s heard worse from the pulpit.
Elio chuckles. Now that he’s married he’s getting his dig in with more fun than I’d like to grant the little shit. The wedding march starts.
“Here we go,” Elio says and straightens up. “Showtime, big bro. Too late to run now.”
The procession of bridesmaids start their walk down the aisle, followed by Arnold, and on his arm, my stunning bride. Mia takes my breath away. She took her time choosing a wedding dress and I have to give it to her, it’s the most beautiful garment I’ve ever seen on a bride.
I watch as she walks slowly toward me, her veil covering her precious face. How did I ever get this lucky? Of all the women in the world, how was it that she was the one to steal my heart right out from under my nose? Angelo is standing next to Elio. He looks like a movie star in his tux, his mop of black hair perfectly quaffed.
She’s so close now, I can see her piercing blue eyes radiating through the thin fabric of the veil. Mia is radiant.
Arnold lifts the veil and kisses his daughter on her cheek. He looks so proud. And so he should be. His child is an angel.
I hardly hear a word that the priest is saying. He may as well be reciting the Gettysburg Address for all I know, or swearing me into a secret society of giant slayers. All I see is Mia. All I hear is the sound of my heart thundering in my chest as I gaze into the eyes of the woman I adore.
“Do you, Dante Anthony De Luca, take this woman, Mia Martin, to be your wife, to live together in holy matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
This part I hear. Only because Mia’s grip on my hand intensifies.
“I do.”
“And, do you, Mia Martin, take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”
Mia smiles.
“I do.”
“Then, by the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Hey, you don’t have to tell me twice.
“Come here, Mrs. De Luca.”
* * *
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
“Good morning to you too, handsome.”
“You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to wake you,” I say, kissing Mia;s bare shoulder.
“Hhmm, that’s nice. Where’s Angelo?”
“He’s gone with the winemaker. They’re driving through the vineyard on a tractor. I haven’t seen our son this excited since yesterday when he was allowed to press a small vat of grapes.”