The old Sia is dead.

It sounds morbid as fuck, I know, but here in this church—this beautiful, well-cared-for church—in the presence of Gio’s own spiritual adviser, I feel it.

The freedom.

It’s not only the old Sia who’s dead. The old Gio is, too. It wasn’t until this moment, saying our vows to each other, that I saw him this way—renewed. Reborn.

The past is another world entirely, and we are stepping together into a new place.

It’s so exhilarating I can hardly catch my breath. I hold Gio’s hands, demure despite my excitement, and play the part of the perfect bride. It’s like I’m watching myself promise to love him and honor him all the days of my life. My spirit flies around the room and then snaps back into my body, where my heart is pounding and my skin is prickling with anticipation.

“I do,” I repeat after Father Lawrence, and with a shock like diving into cold water on a sultry summer day, I realize that it is finished.

It’s done.

We are man and wife.

Father Lawrence is still speaking, giving a blessing, and I bow my head. I can’t stifle the smile on my face, and why the hell would I want to? I’m Gio’s wife. His wife. I am his, and he is mine, and there is nothing in the world that can set us apart.

Except, maybe, his father.

But I’m not going to think about that right now. Now.

“—I now pronounce you husband and wife,” says Father Lawrence, his voice as big as if the church was full.

Gio doesn’t hesitate. He puts a hand behind my neck and the other at my waist and kisses me.

He tilts me back and it’s so fucking romantic I could die, with the taste of him on my lips and the strength of him holding me up. I could live in this moment forever. I could stay right here, stand in this spot, forever, if only he’d keep kissing me.

But he pulls away before it gets out of hand. Is it stupid that I feel disappointed? Is it stupid that I want to press him down to the ground and leap on top of him right now?

He takes my hand.

The doors of the church open, the early morning light streaming in like a choir of angels, and then it’s filtered by the bodies of the monks. They’re here for the early service.

It’s time for us to leave.

Gio leads me out by the hand and we stand on the steps of the church, blinking in the sun, breathing in the new world.

He looks down at me, dark eyes lit with the dawn. “Wife.”

I lean my head against his arm. “Yes,” I breathe, and for once, I don’t need anything more.

Gio drives us further into town, and in the new light we pass a flowerbed with a sign. “Welcome to Verona,” I read out loud. “That’s cute.”

“Very cute.”

“You’re distracted,” I tease.

“You’re wearing that dress.” His eyes shine as they flick over the lines of it, riding up over my knees. “How could I not be?”

I pat his hand. “Pay attention.” Heat rises to my cheeks. I want this dress off of me as much as he does. I want his hands back on my body as much as he does.

Maybe more.

“What am I looking for?” He grumbles, peering out the driver’s side window as we roll to a stop at what appears to be the town’s only stoplight. Jesus, it’s quaint as hell here. We’re on an actual Main Street right now, the buildings snugged up next to each other, and all of them look newly washed in the morning dew. Tiny restaurants and stores. Flowers already in bloom in flower boxes.

I groan. “Gio, please. A room. You’re looking for a room. A hotel.”

His face curls into a smile. “Right. Yes. Right.”

He finds it on the opposite edge of town. It’s almost a mirror of the monastery, only it’s closer in, a wide lawn separating it from the rest of the businesses. I laugh at the sight of it—at the manicured lawn, at the hotel-in-miniature asthetic of the whole place. This is no impersonal high-rise. The parking lot is a strip of spots to the side. No hiding. “Verona’s only hotel.”

“We could try one of the bed and breakfasts.”

“What bed and breakfasts?”

Gio shrugs. “They have to have a few here. That’s what people do, in places like this—in places this beautiful.”

My impatience wanes, but only a little. He’s right. This town is gorgeous in an unearthly way, in a movie-set way, in an outside-of-time way.

So is Gio.

The hard lines of his jaw, the dark embers of his eyes, the strong hands—I want all of him pressed up against me, well before the sun is high in the sky.

There’s still so much to do. We need to make our marriage as legitimate as possible, beginning in the white, elegant courthouse we saw downtown. We need to convince his family that I’m one of them. We need to live.

The man behind the counter at the Verona Inn is dressed for a five-star hotel, and he smiles at us, eyes twinkling, like we’ve met before. “Good morning.” His voice has no early-morning gravel, and a tension I didn’t know I was holding in my shoulders releases. “If you’re interested in booking a room, I have several available for immediate check in.”

Gio sticks his hand in his pocket and pulls out a thin line of hundred-dollar bills. “We need a room.” A grin plays at the corners of his lips. “Whichever one we can get to the fastest.”