Page 104 of Claimed By the Enemy

“I know. But that was for everyone else. This would be just for us.”

“What do you mean?”

Dom takes the rings from the box, holding them up so they catch the sunlight. “I mean that I want to promise you forever in the place where you first learned about love. Where your parents loved each other before the world got complicated.”

“Dom-”

“I want to promise our daughter that her parents chose each other every single day, not just once in a courthouse or once in front of guests, but constantly, deliberately, without reservation.”

“We already do that.”

“I know. But I want to make it official.”

I look around the vineyard, at the place where I played as a child. At Uncle Enzo, who’s stopped his inspection to watch us with obvious curiosity. At Dom, whose eyes are full of the kind of love I spent sixteen years believing I’d never find.

At Isabella, who’s stirring in my arms, her tiny fist reaching toward the light filtering through the olive leaves.

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay?”

“Yes, Domenico Moretti. I’ll renew my vows with you.”

Dom’s smile is brighter than the afternoon sun. “When?”

“Right now.”

“Right now?”

“Right now. Uncle Enzo can officiate. He has that online minister certification he received for our wedding. Isabella can be our witness. This tree can be our chapel.”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Dom doesn’t need any more convincing. He calls to Uncle Enzo, who comes walking over with dirt on his hands and a curious expression on his face.

“What’s all this about?” Uncle Enzo asks.

“We want to renew our vows,” I tell him. “Right here, right now. Will you officiate?”

Uncle Enzo’s face breaks into the kind of smile I remember from my childhood.

“It would be my honor.”

And so, under the olive tree where my mother used to read to me, with the vineyard stretching out around us like a promise of abundance, I marry Dom for the third time.

Uncle Enzo speaks about love conquering hatred, about the future being more important than the past, about the beautiful child sleeping in my arms who represents everything good that can come from choosing forgiveness over revenge.

Dom promises to love me through sleepless nights and dirty diapers, through business crises and family drama, through whatever challenges the future might bring.

I promise to choose him every day, not because I have to, not because it’s safe or practical or expected, but because loving him is the best decision I’ve ever made.

We exchange the new rings, adding them to the ones we already wear.

“You may kiss your wife,” Uncle Enzo says, his voice thick with emotion. “Again.”

Dom’s kiss is soft and sweet and full of promises for the next fifty years. When we break apart, Isabella opens her eyes andstares at us with the serious expression she’s inherited from her father.

“What do you think, little one?” I ask her. “Ready for a lifetime of putting up with both of us?”

Isabella makes a slight sound that could be agreement or protest—with a three-month-old, it’s hard to tell.

“I think that’s a yes,” Dom says.

“Definitely a yes,” Uncle Enzo agrees.

THE END