THE ENGAGEMENT

Sofia sees the ring before Elena even says a word. She grabs her cousin's hand across the kitchen table, nearly knocking over her coffee in the process.

"Oh my god." Her voice climbs about an octave. "Oh my god, Elena."

"Careful, you're going to spill—"

"I don't care about the coffee." Sofia is already crying, laughing at the same time, the way she does everything, all in at once. "Tell me. Tell me right now."

Elena cannot help smiling. Warmth spreads through her chest at the sight of her cousin this happy. "He took me to the garden. The real one. Then the church."

"Shut up."

"He had the ring the whole time. Ten years, Sofia. He kept it this whole time."

Sofia presses both hands to her mouth. Tears spill freely now. "I need to sit down. I am sitting down. I need a minute."

"You're already sitting."

"I need another minute anyway." She wipes her eyes, laughing at herself. "This is the first good thing that has happened to this family in ten years. I need to actually feel it."

Elena reaches across the table and squeezes her hand. "It is a good thing for you too, you know. Whatever comes next."

"Don't make me cry more."

"Too late."

They sit there a while, both of them a little teary, both of them smiling too hard for it to be anything but real.

Sofia sniffles and reaches for her coffee, taking a long sip to steady herself. "Okay. Okay, I'm fine now. Tell me everything.

Every single detail. I want to know what you wore, what he said, what the garden looked like. I want to know if he cried."

"He definitely cried," Elena says, grinning. "He tried to hide it, but I saw."

"Good." Sofia nods firmly. "He should cry. He has been waiting for this for ten years."

"He told me he kept the ring all that time. He never threw it away. Even when he thought I was dead, he kept it."

Sofia's eyes fill with tears again. "That is the most romantic thing I have ever heard."

"I know. I keep thinking about it. He never gave up. Even when he had every reason to."

"He loved you." Sofia reaches across the table and takes Elena's hands in hers. "He never stopped loving you. And now you get to marry him."

Elena looks down at the ring on her finger. Gold catching the morning light.

"I still cannot believe it sometimes. That this is real. That I get to have this."

"Believe it." Sofia squeezes her hands tightly. "You deserve this, Elena. After everything Victor took from you, you deserve every single moment of happiness you can find."

---

Mia finds out an hour later. The way Mia finds out everything. Loud, immediate, and with absolutely no warning.

"SHOW ME THE RING." She says it the second she is through the penthouse door, not even bothering to close it behind her. "Sofia texted me. I ran here. I actually ran, Elena, in these shoes."

Elena holds up her hand, laughing. "Here."

Mia grabs her wrist and studies the ring like she is appraising it for a living. Her eyes are wide, her mouth open.

She turns Elena's hand this way and that, watching the stone catch the light.

"Okay," Mia says slowly. "Okay, this is beautiful. This is genuinely beautiful. Ten out of ten, no notes."

"Glad it has your approval."

"It needs my approval." Mia finally looks up, grinning. "I'm your best friend from the normal-people part of your life.

Somebody has to keep this family grounded."

Elena laughs. "You do a very good job of that."

"Thank you." Mia lets go of her hand and plops down on the couch. "So. When is the wedding?"

"We haven't even talked about that yet."

"Well, talk about it. I need details. I need a dress code. I need to know if I'm allowed to bring a date, which, don't worry, I'm not seeing anyone, that was rhetorical."

Elena laughs, really laughs, something loosening in her chest that has been tight for weeks.

"I'll let you know the second we figure it out. I promise."

"Good." Mia pulls her into a hug, tight and sudden. "I'm really happy for you. After everything. You deserve this."

"Thank you," Elena says quietly, meaning it more than she knows how to say out loud.

Mia pulls back, her eyes a little wet now. "Okay, I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry."

"You are definitely going to cry."

"I am definitely going to cry." Mia wipes her eyes. "But I'm going to do it later, when nobody is watching.

Right now, I want to hear every single detail. Start from the beginning. Don't leave anything out."

Elena settles onto the couch beside her, and she tells the whole story. The garden. The church.

The way Dante's hands were shaking. The way he dropped to one knee in the overgrown grass. The way he said he had loved her for ten years and never stopped.

Mia listens with her whole body, leaning forward, nodding, gasping at the right moments.

"He said all that?" Mia asks when Elena finishes.

"He said all of that."

"And you said yes."

"I said yes."

"Obviously." Mia shakes her head. "I mean, obviously you said yes. Who would say no to that?"

"I don't know. Someone who wasn't me, I guess."

"Good thing you are you." Mia grins. "And now you get to marry a hot boss. That's basically a fairy tale."

Elena laughs again. "I don't think fairy tales usually involve shootouts and trials."

"Details." Mia waves her hand dismissively. "Every good fairy tale has a little drama. Yours just has more than most."

---

Dante's version of the evening is quieter.

He sits in Marco's office, Marco pouring two glasses of something dark and expensive. Both of them are still in the clothes they wore to the garden that afternoon.

Marco sets the bottle down and slides one glass across the desk to Dante.

"She said yes," Marco says. It is not really a question. More a confirmation of something he already knows from the look on Dante's face.

"She said yes."

Marco raises his glass. "To ten years late."

"To ten years late." Dante drinks. Something in his shoulders finally eases, something that has been tense since the night he found her handcuffed to a chair in his penthouse.

"I didn't think I would get here. Any of it."

Marco watches him carefully. "What do you mean?"

"I planned her funeral once, Marco. I don't know if I ever told you that." Dante stares into his glass.

"I planned it and then I couldn't go through with it, so you did it for me."

Marco is quiet. "I remember."

"You didn't speak for three days after." Dante shakes his head slowly. "And now I'm getting married in the same church I buried an empty casket instead of a wife.

Life does not usually give people second chances like this."

"No," Marco agrees. "It does not. Which is exactly why you should not waste a single second of it wondering if you deserve it."

Dante looks up at him. "You think I'm wondering that?"

"I think you have spent ten years believing you failed to protect her." Marco's voice is soft. "I think some part of you is going to keep believing that even now that she is standing right in front of you, alive, choosing you all over again."

Dante is quiet. He turns the glass slowly in his hand.

"You didn't fail her, Dante." Marco's voice is firm now. "Victor did this. Not you."

"I know that." Dante's voice is rough. "Most days."

"Believe it more days than not." Marco leans forward. "She needs you steady. Not drowning in guilt every time something good happens."

Dante meets his eyes. "I'll work on it."

"Good." Marco knocks back the rest of his drink. "Because I am not planning another funeral for either of you. Once was enough for a lifetime."

Dante almost smiles. "I appreciate that."

"You should." Marco pours them both another glass. "I am a very good friend."

"Your humility is inspiring."

"I am also humble." Marco grins. "Now drink. We are celebrating."

---

Later that night, Elena finds Dante on the balcony.

He is staring out at the skyline the way he does when something is sitting heavy on his mind.

The city lights glitter below them, thousands of tiny golden dots against the dark.

"You disappeared," she says, coming to stand beside him.

"Needed some air."

"Good air, or bad air?"

He looks over at her, a small smile breaking through. "Good, mostly. Marco reminded me of some things I needed reminding of."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that I'm allowed to be happy." He turns to face her fully. "That it is not a betrayal of the ten years I lost you, to actually let myself enjoy having you back."

Elena leans into his side, resting her head against his shoulder. She can feel his warmth through his jacket. "I think about that too, sometimes."

"Feeling guilty?"

"For being happy." She nods. "When so much had to happen first to get here. When I lost so much time."

"How do you deal with it?"

"I remind myself my father would want this for me." She looks up at him. "Sofia keeps telling me the same thing, and I'm starting to actually believe her." She pauses.

"We are allowed to have this, Dante. All of it. The wedding. The happiness. We earned it the hard way."

"We did." He pulls her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I keep waiting for something to go wrong.

For someone to walk through that door and tell me this was all some kind of mistake."

"Nothing is going to walk through that door tonight." Elena wraps her arms around him, holding him tightly. "Tonight, we just get to be happy. Simple as that."

"Simple as that," he echoes.

They stand there together a long while. The city is glittering below them. The ring catches the light every time Elena moves her hand, a small, steady reminder that after everything—the lies, the loss, the ten stolen years—they finally made it back to each other.

"I love you," Elena says quietly. "I know I have said it before. I just want to keep saying it. Like maybe if I say it enough times, it makes up for all the years I couldn't."

"You don't owe me those years back." Dante's voice is thick with emotion. "You just have to keep choosing me now. That is all I need."

"Then I choose you." She tilts her face up to his. "Today, and tomorrow, and every day after that."

He kisses her slow and sure. The city lights blur gold around them. For the first time in a decade, neither of them is waiting for the other shoe to drop.

They are just, finally, letting themselves be happy.