Movement from the bottom of the stairs caught my attention. I smiled when I saw my father, my bouquet of Bella Collina’s white roses in his hand. The flowers were as beautiful as every rose Achille had ever given me. Yet the best part of the bouquet was the vines threading between the roses—vines from Achille’s land.
They matched my veil perfectly.
I descended the stairs, my bridesmaids and mother walking behind me. When I reached the bottom, I had to quickly turn away when I saw tears building in my father’s eyes.
“Papa.” I whispered. “Don’t cry. You’ll make me cry too.”
I heard him sniff and clear his throat. When I faced him again, his eyes were still glistening, but he had composed himself. He reached out for my hand and brought it through his arm. “You look so beautiful, Caresa,” he said and pressed a kiss to the side of my head. “Like a vision.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
As my father handed me my bouquet, and the familiar, comforting scent of the roses filled my senses, I felt a calmness wash over me.
You are marrying Achille. In just over an hour, you will have soldered your soul to his in every way possible.
Vintage cars were waiting outside. The photographer snapped away as I slid into one. My father slipped in beside me and held my hand tightly.
It was a short trip to the Duomo from the palazzo. We parked behind the Piazza del Duomo and got out of the car. Paparazzi flashes blinded me as my father took my hand and guided me out onto the street. My mother and bridesmaids joined me, and we slowly made our way to the Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, the vast duomo that dominated the center of Florence. The air was crisp from the biting winter chill, delicate white snowflakes falling around us like confetti. The sounds of early New Year’s Eve celebrations sailed on the wind to our ears, and the sun shone brightly in the sky above the Duomo, God’s blinding spotlight blessing our special day. As we approached the main entrance, tourists and locals out for dinner and drinks stopped to watch us pass by. Many shouted their well-wishes, only attracting more attention to us.
By the time we made it to the entrance, quite a crowd had gathered, taking pictures and videos on their phones. My heart was beating at a million miles an hour as my mother kissed me on my cheek and went into the main body of the church to take her seat.
I could hear the mass of people inside. But my thoughts only went to one person—Achille. All I could picture was Achille in his suit, standing in front of the hundreds of people gathered here today to witness our union.
We waited behind the closed doors. My father kept his head straight forward, but just as the music began to play—Andrea Bocelli’s “Sogno”—he squeezed my hand and whispered, “I am so very proud of you, carina. So very very proud.”
My throat thickened as he moved before me and pulled my veil over my face. The doors slowly opened, and just like we rehearsed, my bridesmaids began their journey down the long aisle.
Then it was my turn to make that leap forward. My legs shook and my heart hammered a symphony as we began our slow walk down the aisle. I kept my eyes forward, trying to focus on breathing, as we passed the first row of guests. Through the thin veil I could see a sea of faces, all blurring into one. I heard their gasps of awe, their whispered well-wishes that echoed off the huge cathedral walls. It was all a swirling whirlwind, until my father squeezed my hand and said, “Look up, carina.”
I hadn’t even realized my eyes had cast down. Inhaling deeply, hearing Bocelli’s perfect voice building to a crescendo, I did as my father said. And the minute I did, my body filled with uncensored joy and light and life.
Because before me, waiting for me with a small, adoring smile on his face, was Achille. And everyone else fell away. My feet felt lighter, my heart calmed in its erratic beating and air filled my lungs.
Because this was my Achille.
My heart, my conscience and my soul.
We reached the end of the aisle. My father placed my hand onto Achille’s waiting one . . . and I was home.
I closed my eyes and sent a silent prayer to his two fathers and his mother for gifting me this beautiful man. All their pain, all their sufferings, would now be turned into nothing but happiness and love. I promised them I would look after their boy.
He would be safe in my arms.
I felt him move beside me. When I opened my eyes, Achille was lifting my veil . . . my veil of vines, the vines I knew had always represented the other half of my soul. My sweet winemaker of the Bella Collina merlot.
He pushed the veil back from my face, and I sucked in a sharp breath. My eyes grazed down Achille’s tall, broad frame. He was dressed in a designer tux, and his usually messy black hair was combed back from his face, showing the beauty of his turquoise, Mediterranean-sea eyes.
And when our gazes locked, I played the story of us in my mind. From the first day in the vineyard, to him brushing his hand past mine, our kiss, making love, and finally being back in his arms after we were split apart. I played it all—the memories a fingerprint on my soul.
Because sometimes, just sometimes, the sun and the moon align, bringing two people to the same place at the same time. Sometimes destiny guides them to exactly where they are meant to be. And their hearts fall in a tandem beat and their souls merge as one.
Split-aparts.
Soul mates.
Two halves, now one whole . . .
. . . Achille and Caresa.
Per sempre.
Epilogue
Bella Collina Estate, Umbria
Three years later . . .
Achille
“Santino, come here, carino,” I said, laughing as my two-year-old son let go of his mother’s hand and ran down the long row of vines to reach me. As he stumbled his way toward me over the uneven earth, his face was bright, and his infectious laughter carried on the wind. I couldn’t help but feel blessed.
Santino fell into my arms, and I brought him to my chest. I stood with him in my arms and kissed his chubby cheek. I took his hand and ran them over a full bunch of grapes, warm from the sun, and asked, “Are these ready yet, carino?” Santino’s little fingers ran over the skin of the grapes. “Well?”
“Yes!” he shouted. I tickled his waist, and he burst into laughter.
“Very good!” I praised and spun him around as he laughed harder. I looked at Caresa, who was watching us from the end of the row with a look of happiness in her eyes. Her hands were cupping her pregnant stomach as her long hair blew around her in the warm breeze.
We were having a little girl. And I couldn’t wait to meet her.
“Shall we run to your mamma?” I asked Santino, and he clapped his hands.
I set off in a steady jog as we made our way to Caresa. “Mamma!” Santino shouted and held his arms out for her.
She lifted him up for a moment, but then placed him back down on the ground. She pointed toward the cottage. “Look who’s come to see you!”
Santino turned at the same time as I did. Zeno was standing near the trees, dressed in his usual suit and tie. He waved my way, then crouched to the ground. “Santino! Your favorite uncle has come to see you!”
“Zio Zeno!” Santino screamed and pushed his little legs to their maximum speed as he ran across the field and into Zeno’s arms. I laughed as Zeno put him down and began to chase him around the grass.
“He’s so good with him,” Caresa said affectionately.
I nodded in agreement, then turned to my wife. I cupped her face with my hands and brought her in for a kiss. When I broke away, I pressed my forehead to hers. “I love you forever.”
“I love you forever too,” she murmured back, then ran her hand down my bare chest. “I love this time of year, because I get to see you dressed like this every day as you bring in the harvest.”
“Then I’ll always look forward to October,” I said and kissed my wife again, because I could.
I threaded my arm around her shoulders, and we walked toward Zeno and Santino. When Zeno saw us, he picked Santino up in his arms. Zeno kissed Caresa on both cheeks then hugged me. “Are you staying for dinner?” I asked.
“Of course,” he replied. We all walked back to the cottage. Since I had taken on the title of prince and become part of Savona Wines, Caresa and I had stayed here on the Bella Collina estate. The main house was ours, but we mostly stayed here in the cottage. Especially during the harvest.