Chapter 11 – The Puddles Left Behind
One year later.
The Moretti estate was alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of crystal glasses.
But this wasn’t an engagement dinner filled with tense, fearful guests.
This was a wedding.
The grand ballroom was adorned with thousands of white roses and twinkling fairy lights.
My mother, walking beautifully without a cane, was dancing with Daniel, the head of security, who was blushing fiercely.
Teresa was holding court at a large table, laughing as she recounted embarrassing stories of Luca’s childhood to a group of my relatives from Ohio.
I stood near the open French doors leading out to the terrace, taking a moment to catch my breath.
I was wearing a simple, elegant white silk gown. A delicate silver bracelet—Teresa’s heirloom, gifted to me permanently—sparkled on my wrist.
“Hiding from your own reception, Mrs. Moretti?”
I turned around, a massive smile breaking across my face.
Luca leaned against the doorframe. He looked devastatingly handsome in his tailored black tuxedo, but the most attractive thing about him was the relaxed, profound happiness radiating from his eyes.
“Just catching my breath,” I laughed, stepping into his arms.
He pulled me flush against his chest, swaying gently to the music drifting out from the ballroom.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look today?” Luca murmured, kissing my forehead.
“About fifty times,” I smiled, resting my head against his heart. “But you can keep saying it.”
He chuckled, a rich, deep sound that I loved more than anything in the world.
“The foundation secured funding for a new pediatric wing at Saint Jude’s today,” Luca said proudly. “The board wants you to cut the ribbon next month.”
“We’ll cut it together,” I corrected him.
He kissed me deeply, pulling away only when a soft clap of thunder rolled across the night sky.
The heavens opened up, and a sudden, warm spring rain began to fall over the gardens.
“We better go inside,” Luca said, moving to close the glass doors.
“Wait,” I stopped him, catching his hand.
I looked out into the rain, listening to the water hit the stone patio, watching the puddles begin to form.
I smiled, turning back to my husband.
“Actually, Mr. Moretti,” I said softly, taking his hand and placing it gently over my stomach. “I think we’re going to need to buy a new pair of rain boots.”
Luca froze.
The music in the ballroom seemed to fade away entirely.
His eyes widened, darting from my face to my hand resting on my stomach, and back again.
“Rachel?” he breathed, his voice cracking, completely stripped of all its power, leaving only pure, unadulterated awe. “Are you…?”
“I’m pregnant,” I whispered, tears of joy welling in my eyes.
Luca let out a choked, beautiful sob. He dropped to his knees right there on the terrace, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his face gently against my stomach.
The untouchable mafia boss, weeping with pure joy in the spring rain.
He stood up, cupping my face in his hands, kissing me with a desperation and a love so profound it took my breath away.
“I love you,” he vowed, resting his forehead against mine as the rain fell around us. “I will protect you both until my last breath.”
I looked past his shoulder, through the glass doors, into the grand foyer of the mansion.
Sitting neatly by the front door, exactly where they had always been, were Sophie’s little pink boots.
They weren’t a monument to grief anymore.
They were waiting.
Waiting to be joined by a brand new pair of tiny shoes, ready to splash in the puddles left behind.
The End.
