Chapter 7
The next forty-eight hours were a blur.
I sat in the hospital waiting room, the twins curled up on either side of me, sleeping.
Mrs. Pike had gone home to get some things but promised to come back.
Luca’s family had arrived — his mother, his brother, his sister.
I’d only met them a few times before everything happened.
They’d been cold to me at first.
Vanessa had poisoned them against me, telling them I’d abandoned Luca, stolen his money, run off with another man.
But when they saw me — covered in dried blood, holding his children, waiting for news — they knew.
They knew Vanessa had lied.
Luca’s mother, a formidable woman named Constance, sat down beside me and took my hand.
“I’m so sorry, Sarah,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “We believed her. We thought… God, we were so wrong about you.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “She fooled all of us.”
“It’s not okay. We should have known. Luca never stopped looking for you. Never. For three years, every waking moment was spent searching. He hired private investigators. Put your face on billboards. Offered rewards. He never gave up. And when he found you… when he called me and told me about the twins… I’d never heard him so happy.”
I cried then.
For the first time since the shooting, I let myself really cry.
Constance held me while I sobbed.
The twins stirred but didn’t wake.
After what felt like an eternity, the doctor came out.
He was young. Tired.
“Family of Luca Moretti?”
We all stood.
“The bullet missed all major arteries and organs. It was a through-and-through. He lost a lot of blood, but we were able to stabilize him. He’s in recovery now. He’s going to be fine.”
The room erupted in sighs and tears.
I collapsed back into the chair, my legs giving out.
He was going to be okay.
Luca was going to be okay.
“Can we see him?” I asked.
“One at a time, for now. He’s still pretty groggy from the anesthesia.”
“I’ll go first.”
I stood up, smoothing my clothes, trying to look presentable despite the blood and the tears and the lack of sleep.
The nurse led me to his room.
Luca was in the bed, pale and still, tubes and wires coming out of him.
His left shoulder was heavily bandaged.
But his chest was rising and falling steadily.
He was alive.
I sat in the chair beside the bed and took his hand.
It was warm.
“Hey, you,” I whispered. “You scared me there for a minute.”
His eyes fluttered open.
He focused on me, a small smile tugging at his lips.
“Told you… I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re an idiot. You could have died.”
“Worth it. To keep you safe.”
I squeezed his hand.
“Thank you. For everything. For protecting us. For finding us. For… for being you.”
“Sarah…” He tried to sit up, winced, and lay back. “There’s something I need to say. Before I lose my nerve.”
“Rest first. We can talk later.”
“No. Now.” He took a deep breath. “I love you. I have never stopped loving you. Not for one second of those three years. Not when I thought you’d left me. Not when I hated myself for what I thought I’d done. Not ever. You are the only thing that matters to me. You and the twins. And if you’ll have me… I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I want to be your husband again. Properly this time. No more secrets. No more lies. Just us. A family.”
Tears streamed down my face.
Happy tears this time.
“I love you too, Luca,” I said. “I never stopped. Even when I hated you, I loved you. And yes. Yes, I’ll have you. A thousand times yes.”
He tried to lift his good arm to touch my face.
I leaned down, meeting him halfway.
Our lips met.
Soft. Gentle.
Three years of pain and fear and longing poured into that kiss.
And when we pulled apart, everything felt different.
Healed.
Whole.
“Mama?”
I turned.
Lena and Ash stood in the doorway, Constance behind them.
“Daddy’s awake!” Lena yelled, running for the bed.
“Careful, baby,” I said, catching her. “Daddy’s owie still hurts.”
She climbed carefully onto the bed on his right side, away from the bandage.
Ash followed more slowly, then climbed up beside her.
They both snuggled against his chest, careful of his shoulder.
Luca wrapped his good arm around both of them, holding them as tight as he could.
He looked at me over their heads.
His amber eyes were shining.
“Best day of my life,” he said quietly.
“Even with the bullet hole?” I asked, smiling through my tears.
“Even with the bullet hole.”
The next week was a whirlwind.
Vanessa was arraigned on multiple charges — attempted murder, breaking and entering, assault with a deadly weapon, stalking, harassment.
The evidence was overwhelming.
Security footage.
The text messages.
Luca’s testimony.
My testimony.
The gun with her fingerprints.
She didn’t even try to fight it.
She pled guilty to all charges in exchange for avoiding a trial.
The judge sentenced her to thirty-five years in a maximum-security prison.
No parole.
No early release.
Thirty-five years.
She’d be in her seventies when she got out.
She’d never bother us again.
Never get near the twins.
Never hurt anyone we loved.
As the gavel fell, I felt something lift from my shoulders.
A weight I’d been carrying for three years.
Vanessa was gone.
The past was gone.
And the future was ours.
Luca was released from the hospital ten days after the shooting.
He was weak. His arm was in a sling. But he was alive.
And he was coming home.
Our home.
The tiny apartment above the bakery.
When we walked through the door, the twins ran ahead, yelling, “Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home!”
Luca looked around at the small space.
At the drawings on the wall.
At the hand-me-down furniture.
At the life I’d built.
“Perfect,” he said. “It’s absolutely perfect.”
I smiled.
“Even with the chipped tile?”
“Especially with the chipped tile.”
That night, after the twins were asleep, we sat on the couch together.
Luca’s head was in my lap, my fingers running through his hair.
“What happens now?” I asked quietly.
“Now?” He looked up at me. “Now we live. We get married again — properly this time, with all our friends and family. We raise our kids. We grow old together. And every single day, I spend it proving to you that you made the right choice.”
“Even in this tiny apartment?”
“Especially in this tiny apartment. Though… I did see a house for sale on the edge of town. Four bedrooms. Big yard. Enough room for the twins to run. And maybe… someday… another baby or two.”
I laughed.
“Two is enough for now, Moretti. Let’s just get you healed first.”
“Fair enough.”
He sat up, wincing slightly, and reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a small velvet box.
My breath caught.
“I had this with me the day I found you on the porch,” he said, opening it.
Inside was a ring.
Not the huge diamond he’d given me the first time.
This one was simpler. More elegant.
A small diamond surrounded by two tiny sapphires — the twins’ birthstones.
“I was going to ask you then,” he continued. “But then you slammed the door in my face. Which, in hindsight, was completely justified.”
I laughed through my tears.
“Sarah Marie Cole,” he said, taking my hand. “Will you marry me? Again? For real this time. No drugs. No evil sisters. No running away. Just us. Forever.”
“Yes,” I said, not even hesitating. “A thousand times yes.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger.
It fit perfectly.
We kissed again.
May you like
And for the first time in my life, I knew.
Everything was going to be okay.
