Chapter 10 - The Vow on the Coast
The wedding was not a grand, public spectacle held in a Boston cathedral.
It took place six weeks later, on a crisp afternoon in early spring, on the stone terrace of the Gloucester estate overlooking the sparkling blue ocean.
The air was fresh, smelling of salt water, blooming pine, and the first hints of spring warmth.
A small, private gathering attended the ceremony: Nina, who stood beside Mia as her maid of honor; Marco, who served as Dante’s best man; and a elderly judge from the city court who had owed the Moretti family his career thirty years prior.
Mia wore a simple, elegant ivory silk gown that draped gracefully over her expanding belly—now fifteen weeks along and clearly visible in the sunlight. Her dark hair was styled in soft waves, pinned back with a single strand of white orchids.
Dante stood at the altar, looking impossibly sharp in a tailored dark blue suit. His left shoulder had fully healed, his posture tall, proud, and commanding, but his eyes softened completely as Mia walked down the stone aisle toward him.
When she reached his side, Dante took both of her hands in his, his large, tanned fingers trembling slightly as he held her.
The judge read the formal vows, his voice echoing across the ocean breeze.
When it came time for the personal vows, Dante looked directly into Mia’s dark eyes, his voice low, steady, and rich with emotion.
“Mia cara,” Dante began in Italian, his voice carrying across the stone terrace. “I spent four years watching you from the shadows, believing I was protecting you by staying away. I was wrong. The best way to protect you is to stand beside you, to love you, and to give you a home where you never have to hide again.”
He slid the brilliant platinum ring onto her finger, his thumb gently stroking her skin. “I promise to honor you, to cherish the child you carry, and to defend this family with everything I am.”
Mia looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears of pure, unadulterated happiness.
“Dante,” Mia said, her voice clear and strong against the ocean wind. “Four years ago, I thought my life was over. I thought the world was full of monsters and secrets. But you showed me that even in the darkest shadows, there is a man who would throw himself in front of a bullet just to keep me safe.”
She reached up, her hand gently touching the thin scar at the corner of his mouth.
“I promise to love you, to trust you, and to remind you every single day...” She paused, a radiant, mischievous smile spreading across her lips as she leaned in close, whispering in proper West Sicilian dialect: “...that you are far too handsome to ever be this stupid.”
Dante let out a rich, booming laugh that echoed across the cliffs—a sound of pure, unbridled joy that his men had never heard in his thirty-four years of life.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest, and kissed her with a fierce, breathtaking passion that sealed their fate forever.
The small crowd applauded, Marco letting out a loud whistle as the ocean breeze caught Mia’s veil, sending it fluttering into the clear blue sky.
Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the coastal sky in brilliant shades of pink, gold, and violet, Dante and Mia stood together on the high cliff terrace.
Dante stood behind her, his arms wrapped securely around her waist, his large hands resting gently over the warm curve of her stomach where their child—their family’s future—rested safely.
Mia leaned her head back against his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart.
“What are you thinking about, Mrs. Moretti?” Dante asked softly, resting his chin against her hair.
May you like
Mia looked out over the vast, peaceful sea, feeling the warmth of his body, the security of his ring on her finger, and the bright, clean future waiting ahead.
“I’m thinking,” Mia said with a smile, turning her head to kiss his jaw, “that it’s a very good thing I didn't keep my mouth shut at table seven.”
