Carefully, I pick my exit strategy.

My right foot finds land, and I shift my weight. While I want to recreate our trip from twelve months ago, there are aspects of it I don’t care to repeat. Falling into the canal as I step out at the landing pier of the Aman Hotel is one of those things I don’t need to do again.

“Let me help you, my lady,” a deep melodic voice says from behind.

Two hands push me gently forward.

“Well thank you,” I turn around and smile.

Pigeons fly off the ground as Dante joins me on land. He turns to pay for our fare and grab our luggage.

“Do you think we’ll see Luciano?” I stare wistfully at the pigeons coming and going.

Dante laughs.

It’s a warm heartfelt laugh.

I know he’s not laughing at me for being silly. Dante would never do that. Dante loves me.

“You never know, my love,” he puts one arm around my waist and draws me toward him.

I feel his lips on the tip of my nose.

“I hope he’s happy,” I whisper and stroke my husband’s dark hair.

“I’m sure he is.”

Before his mouth comes down on mine, I already open mine to meet him.

For a moment, there’s only Dante, our kiss, and me.

It never ceases to amaze me that no matter how many times we kiss, I never tire of it. His kisses still manage to evoke feelings in me I didn’t know existed.

“Are you ready, Mrs. Dante Walsh, to check in?”

I feel myself choke up, and I nod.

Was it really only twelve months since I fell into the canal and was fished out of the water by my now husband?

Sometimes, it seems an entire lifetime ago.

So much has happened.

Arm in arm, we make our way to the reception area.

My eyes drink in our surrounds as if someone had just served me an expensive glass of wine. It still holds the same fascination as it did a year ago.

All too vividly, I recall how Allison and I arrived in this magnificent city. How my eyes were out on stalks, and my best friend wondered when I’d finally shut up.

Good old Allison was back home, immersed in her high-powered job. She was bright and hard working and making inroads in the company she started her internship with.

One day, she’d rule the world, I was sure of it.

I pull out my phone and take a quick photo of the hotel. Then I find her number and send her quick a message.

“Planning your escape route already?” Dante jokes, and I give him a light slap on the shoulder.

“As if. Are you hoping?”

He shakes his head.

“Touché.”

“I’m sending Ally a quick message. Make her jealous.”

Dante checks us in, and before I know it, we’re in the bridal suite of the exclusive hotel.

It’s exactly as I remember.

On the small table in the living room area is a silver bucket with a bottle of champagne in it. Two crystal glasses and a box of chocolates are on either side. There’s also a bowl of fresh fruit.

But all of this pales into insignificance when I spot the two other items resting on the lounge.

“You didn’t,” I turn to Dante, both my hands covering my mouth.

He just smiles.

Tentatively, I approach the couch. My hand shakes a little as I pick up the mask.

It’s nearly identical to the one I wore at our wedding.

There’s a tiny difference. In the white velvet on the right side is a faint outline of a pigeon. And there are a few feathers sticking out from it.

“Are they Luciano’s?” I whisper, not trusting my voice.

Dante nods, and I feel his arms wrap around me.

“I kept them, planning to do something with them. When you told me you wanted to come back for our first wedding anniversary, I thought I’d see if they could be incorporated into a mask.”

The first tear rolls down my cheek.

My hormones are all over the place.

“I…” I mutter, but I’m stopped from saying any more with Dante kissing me.

There goes my insides again, burning brightly with desire. My knees threaten to give way already.

“And guess what?”

Dante pulls away from me, and I feel an aching need to pull him back onto me.

“What?”

He holds up the t-shirt lying next to the mask on the couch, the t-shirt with a large picture of Luciano perched on the edge of a coffee cup seemingly sipping espresso on the front of it.

“I’ve got one too.”

And sure enough, what I thought was one t-shirt is actually two, one a lot larger than the other one.

“I didn’t get you anything nearly as good as this,” I tell him, holding out the mask and pointing to the t-shirt.

“These aren’t your wedding anniversary present, love. These are just the ‘Welcome to Venice’ gifts.”

I wrap my arms around him.

Of course I’ve got an anniversary present for him, I just hope he’ll like it.

“I thought we’ll retrace our steps?”

I nod.

“Except…” I start and stop again. A shiver runs down my spine. “I don’t think I’ll need to visit the Colosseum on my own this time.”

The memory of what might have been still vivid in my mind. If Dante hadn’t come to my rescue…I push those thoughts aside. From time to time, I still wake up in the middle of the night, fear gripping at my heart. Every time it happens, Dante comforts me.

“Definitely not,” Dante agrees.

We spend the rest of the day in each other’s company, and I can’t wait ‘til tomorrow, ‘til I can give him my present.

The next morning, I’m woken by the smell of coffee and something else.

At first, I refuse to accept that it’s morning already, instead grabbing the soft sheets and wrapping them closer around my body.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Dante’s voice is right by my ear. He kisses me. “You’re not going to spend all of our first wedding anniversary in bed are you?”

Wedding anniversary.

The words make me open my eyes. Excitement floods through me. I’ll get to give my husband, Dante, his present.

“Happy anniversary.”

I feel his lips on mine, and his hands roam over my body.

Thoughts of coffee and breakfast go out the window as his thumb and index finger start to play with my nipples.

It’s amazing how he knows what buttons to push.

But then, I remember I’ve got a surprise for him, a surprise I want to tell him over lunch.

And so I push him off me.

“And your plan is to spend the day in bed having sex?”

I grab my coffee and savor the taste.

“What’s wrong with that?”

His eyes sparkle, and his hands are all over me again.

Instead of a reply, I take my coffee and leave the room.

“Let’s get ready for lunch,” I call over my shoulder. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

An hour or so later, we sit in one of the many eateries by the water.

Dante is holding my hand and looking me in the eyes. The waiter comes, and I let Dante order for me. I can’t believe I once thought this was a problem.

The days are long gone where I think a simple gesture like ordering for me is Dante trying to control me. I’ve learned not to sweat the small stuff.

When the champagne arrives, I pick up my glass.

“A toast to us,” I say, and we clink our glasses, but I don’t drink any of it.

“To the most beautiful wife imaginable.”

“And to art,” I say, my smile widening a little. And again, I don’t actually take a sip.

I watch Dante closely.

“To art?”

Dante furrows his brow a little, and he watches as I pull out a letter from my purse.

I put it in front of him.

“Happy anniversary, darling.”

I watch him read the letter.

By now, I know its contents off by heart. I’ve read it so many times. When I first opened it, I was so excited that I wanted to run and tell Dante straight away—but then I decided I would wait ‘til we were in Venice.

“Wow. Congratulations. That’s fucking awesome.”

Dante leans over the table to kiss me.

“Your very first art exhibition and here in Venice. Amazing.”

I nod. I couldn’t believe it at first.

A few months ago, I came across a website that asked for submissions of artwork for an exhibition in Venice. Immediately, I entered some of my drawings.

I didn’t tell Dante. When the letter arrived accepting my artwork and wanting more for a full exhibition, I nearly fainted on the spot.

“But wait—there’s more,” I say to Dante and watch him closely.

“You’re exhibiting in Paris as well?”

I shake my head. “We’re pregnant.”

Delight, joy and amazement; I see those and other emotions on Dante’s face.

He takes my champagne from me.

“No alcohol for you, my dear. And what fucking amazing, wonderful news.”

This time, he gets up from his chair and takes me in his arms. I don’t point out that I hadn’t taken a sip of the alcohol anyway and melt into him.

“Happy?” I ask to be sure.

Dante smiles and leans toward me.

“The happiest man alive.”

We kiss, and I count my lucky stars.

There really was a happily ever after in real life.

I was living it.