Page 29

Cara

As soon as the door opens, I am greeted by a warm smile on the face of the eldest member of the Mastroni family.

"Mr. Mastroni," I greet him, slightly nervous. "I— thank you so much for having me here..."

"Are you kidding?” he says, putting his arm around my shoulders and steering me inside. "Any woman who can put up with my son is welcome here..."

I shoot a look back to Max, who rolls his eyes at me playfully as he heads through to the kitchen to drop off the bottle of wine we brought with us.

I have been equal parts nervous and excited about this evening.

My nerves aren’t because I don’t want to spend time with Max’s family, far from it.

It’s because deep in my heart I know I still have to prove myself as a trustworthy person to his sister and their father.

"And call me Dario," he adds as he leads me through to the dining room.

The table is already groaning under the weight of all the food, and the deliciously savory scents fill the air. I inhale deeply, closing my eyes and letting the smell of it rush through me.

"Oh, that smells amazing," I sigh. "Did you make this yourself...?"

"With some help from me," Maya interjects from the doorway.

I glance around and smile at her, and, to my surprise, she smiles back at me, with no hint of malice.

I am not sure I have ever seen her so pleased to see me.

I hope that the conversation I had with Rosie yesterday might have helped soothe her concern about me, though I get the feeling it’s going to be a long road with her.

"Well, it looks amazing," I reply as Max enters the room, bringing a hand to my back so he can guide me to my seat.

Their dining room is cozy, but well-appointed—deep red wallpaper accented by dark wood furnishings.

I notice a picture of Dario with a woman propped up on a small table next to the door, and I guess at once it’s their mother.

I smile. It’s almost as though she’s joining us for this dinner, though of course that’s impossible.

"Tuck in," Dario announces as he pours everyone a generous glass of wine from the bottle that Max brought with us. He reaches for my knee under the table and gives it a light squeeze. I manage a small smile, hoping that my nerves are not making themselves known too obviously on my face.

We begin to eat, and soon, the conversation is flying.

It's clear that these three get on best when there is a dinner table between them, a little wine to keep the conversation going. I can’t help but notice that there are two empty chairs around the table, conspicuously empty—one for their mother, I suppose, but who is the other one for?

This sister that he won’t tell me about. ..?

I push that aside. It’s not my place to go asking for explanations about that, not now. I am just here for a pleasant family dinner, and to try to make some inroads with this new life I am living.

"So, tell me, how are you finding Max’s apartment?" Dario asks me, turning the conversation suddenly in my direction.

For a moment, I trip over my words, not quite sure how to get out an answer.

"Uh, yeah, it’s— it’s lovely," I reply.

"Different than anywhere else you’ve lived, huh?" Maya remarks.

"Oh, I… I never lived with anyone other than my father," I admit, and suddenly wish I could take it back. It makes me sound so unworldly.

Maya seems to be in the thick of it with her father and everything else, but there I was, part of my father’s family with no idea what he was really doing.

"Well, plenty of time for you to make the place your own," Dario adds kindly, finding some way to divert the conversation away from the fact that I have nothing good to say.

I breathe a sigh of relief. They don’t seem to hold it against me. In fact, I think most of these nerves are more coming from inside my head than from anything they are doing.

"Yes, and the next one, you might even be able to get rid of my brother," Maya jokes.

A laugh passes around the table, and I reach for my wine. See? I tell myself. It’s going well. You were getting worried for nothing...

We eat and clear the plates together, then Max offers to make everyone a coffee in the kitchen. I linger with him before I return to the table with Dario and Maya.

"You sure you don’t need a hand?" I ask Max, before I go. I hook my chin over his shoulder, glad to have a moment alone with him.

"I’m fine," he replies, dropping a kiss on my head and then turning his attention back to the task at hand. "You go and spend some time with my father and my sister. They really like you."

I nod and do as I’m told. Though, if I’m being honest, I’m a little surprised that he would brush me off the way he did. Usually, he wants to grab every single moment we can get alone together, and I am more than willing to give him everything he wants...

Still, I return to the table, where Maya has topped off my wine and Dario is putting on a record.

For a moment, I pause in the doorway, just looking at the people before me.

For the first time, it strikes me, I actually feel like an adult, like an equal to everyone in the room.

I’m sure there is still so much I have to learn about the way this world really works, but here, now, I actually feel at home.

I take my seat again, and Dario glances around.

"You like the music?” he asks, waving his hand towards the record player. "Always sounds better on vinyl, I’d say..."

"It’s lovely," I reply, and it is—the soft notes waft through the air around us, filling the room like the scent of the food did earlier, just as earthy.

A few moments later, Max appears in the doorway, carrying a tray with all of our coffees on it. He distributes them between us, passing them back and forth, every one made up exactly how the recipient likes it.

But as he takes his seat next to me, I notice that there is still something on the tray before him—a small, squarish object that I can’t quite see from where I am sitting. I crane my neck over to get a better look, and Max flashes me a grin, catching me staring.

"What’s wrong?"

"What is that thing?" I ask, pointing to the object that has me so confused. Now I am a little closer to it, I can see what looks to be deep purple velvet. But what would a velvet box that small be?—

Before I can finish the thought, he reaches across and grabs it. And as he pops it open, I hear Maya let out a gasp.

Because inside that box is a ring. A sparkling silver ring, with a diamond pressed into the center, the gleam of it so intense in the soft light it’s hard to believe it’s real.

"Oh, my..."

"You know what it is now?” he asks, a low, teasing tone to his voice. I nod, my hands clasped to my chest. I can’t believe what I am looking at—I can’t even come close to figuring it out.

"Yeah..."

"I wanted to do this properly," he continues.

It suddenly clicks to me that this is what he has been planning all night, this is why he was so insistent I come, and this is why he wanted this time in the kitchen alone.

The thought of someone pouring all of that effort in, just to ask me—not to demand an answer, not to force me down the aisle whether I want it or not, but to allow me to make that decision about my future—is more than I can make sense of.

The emotion swells up in my chest, my heart pounding as he tells me what I didn’t even know I needed to hear.

"Because I’m in love with you, Cara, which you already know well," he continues, a small smile flickering on the corners of his lips. I want to kiss him so badly, but more than anything, I want to hear what he has to say.

"And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. More than that, I want to offer you a place in this family. God knows the one you had before didn’t treat you the way you deserved to be treated, but you made the hardest choice in the world by choosing to side with us."

I press my lips together. I feel like I might start crying at any moment, happy tears, the joy almost bursting out of my chest. Yes, it’s bittersweet, knowing everything that has led to this moment, but that is all behind us now. And what awaits in the future is the only thing that matters.

"So, Cara," he murmurs, as he lifts the ring from the box and takes my hand. "Will you marry me?"

"Of course, I will," I reply, without so much as a second thought.

He grins as he slips the ring on my finger, and he pulls me in for a kiss. It’s just a chaste one, but I know that there will be far more to come tonight.

When we pull back, Maya is gaping at us both in total shock.

"Max, it’s fine to surprise her, but you should have at least told us!” Maya exclaims, punching her brother lightly on the arm.

"Hey, I wanted to see the looks on all your faces," he replies, holding his hands up playfully, like he’s been caught in the act. "And trust me... it was so worth it."

He glances around the room at all of us—at his father, who is grinning widely, his sister, who is already leaning over and demanding to get a look at my ring. And then, his gaze lands on me, and the look on his face when our eyes come together is everything that I need in that moment.

"I love it," Maya sighs. "Just like the one Mom had..."

But I can hardly hear what she is saying, nor can I make out what Dario is announcing, though I’m distantly aware that it’s got something to do with getting a priceless bottle of champagne out of the wine cellar.

I slide my fingers across the table to interlock with Max’s, hardly able to believe that this is the man I am going to get to spend the rest of my life with.

The last time I knew that I was going to be married, all I could think about was how scared I was.

How it felt like a million opportunities slamming in my face, crushing me, pushing me down, leaving me with no way to come out the other side unscathed.

I had slipped into that wedding dress like a funeral shroud, feeling as though I was walking to my grave instead of my husband.

But this? This feels anything but that. This feels like everything opening up before me again, the light of a new day breaking over my face, the pressure finally lifting.

Not just being with Max, but being a Mastroni, being part of this new empire that would do good in the world instead of tearing it down as my father had done.

I mouth I love you over the table, and he mouths it back. He tightens his grip on my hand, and I know, more clearly than anything in the world, that this is where I belong.