Chapter 8 - The Ring He Refused to Give Me
A year after the attack, Dante took me back to the hospital.
West End General.
The same building where I had woken with two cracked ribs and a concussion.
I stood in the hallway.
“You're sentimental.”
“Never.”
“Liar.”
He smiled.
We walked toward the room where I'd spent that first night.
It was empty.
Renovated.
Bright.
Normal.
I touched the door.
“I thought I was going to die.”
“I thought I was going to kill everyone involved.”
“That's very you.”
He laughed.
Then became serious.
“I've thought about that night every day.”
“So have I.”
“I remember sitting beside you.”
“I remember your face.”
“What did it look like?”
“Terrifying.”
He shook his head.
“I was terrified.”
I looked at him.
“You never said that.”
“I didn't know how.”
He reached into his coat.
I thought it was the ring.
It wasn't.
It was a small key.
I frowned.
“What's that?”
“A house.”
“What?”
“A key to our house.”
I blinked.
“You already have a house.”
“This is ours.”
He handed it to me.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I want to build something permanent.”
My heart raced.
He didn't kneel.
He didn't make a scene.
He just stood there.
“I don't want to ask you because people expect me to.”
I swallowed.
“I want to ask because I can't imagine the rest of my life without you.”
He finally pulled out the ring.
Simple.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
“Harper, will you marry me?”
I cried.
Then laughed.
“You know the last time a wedding entered my life, I ended up in a hospital.”
“So we'll skip the wedding.”
I laughed harder.
“No.”
“No?”
“I want the wedding.”
He stared.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because this time it will be mine.”
His eyes softened.
“Ours.”
“Ours.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger.
Then kissed me.
The wedding was small.
No politicians.
No secret deals.
No guns.
No forced alliances.
Just family and friends.
Luca came.
My mother came.
Nico cried openly.
He denied it afterward.
Dante's closest employees attended.
My father's old lawyer gave a toast.
He said my father would have been proud.
I believed him.
When I walked down the aisle, I saw Dante waiting.
He looked nervous.
Actually nervous.
I smiled.
After everything we'd survived, that sight almost made me laugh.
When I reached him, he whispered, “You came.”
“I promised.”
“You don't have to promise forever.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you to choose me every day.”
I squeezed his hand.
“I will.”
The ceremony was simple.
Our vows were private.
No grand declarations.
Just truth.
When the officiant pronounced us married, Dante kissed me.
The room erupted.
I laughed against his mouth.
“We're married.”
“Yes.”
“And you're not my boss anymore.”
“No.”
“Good.”
He smiled.
“You're my wife.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Don't get possessive.”
He kissed me again.
“Never.”
Later that night, we danced under strings of lights.
My mother cried.
Luca smiled.
Nico tried to steal cake.
It was peaceful.
The kind of peaceful neither of us had thought possible.
But life still had one final surprise.
Three months later, I discovered I was pregnant.
When I told Dante, he went completely still.
“Are you sure?”
I laughed.
“The doctor seems pretty sure.”
He sat down.
I had never seen him look so stunned.
Then he stood and wrapped his arms around me.
“You're going to be a father.”
“I know.”
“No.”
He laughed through tears.
“I mean, really.”
I kissed him.
He put one hand over my stomach.
“This baby won't know anything about the life we left behind.”
“That’s the plan.”
“They'll know love.”
“They'll know family.”
“They'll know freedom.”
I smiled.
“And they'll know that their father is terrible at fixing leaking garages.”
“That's unnecessary.”
I laughed.
We spent the next months preparing.
A nursery.
A crib.
A tiny collection of books.
Dante painted one wall himself.
It was crooked.
I loved it.
He kept staring at it.
“It needs fixing.”
“No.”
“It’s uneven.”
“Leave it.”
“Why?”
“Because you made it.”
May you like
He smiled.
“Then it stays.”
