Chapter 15 - THE KISS SHE CHOSE
Two years after the night I kissed a stranger on the frozen terrace of the St. Regis, I stood in the same ballroom.
But this time, I wasn't working.
I was wearing an ivory silk dress.
My mother sat in the front row.
Lucia, Dante's grandmother, smiled through tears.
Marco stood beside the ceremony arch.
And Dante Moretti waited at the end of the aisle.
He looked nervous.
I smiled.
The most feared man in New York.
Nervous.
Because of me.
I walked toward him.
His eyes filled.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered.
I laughed softly.
“You look terrified.”
He smiled.
“I am.”
I took his hands.
“Good.”
He laughed.
The ceremony began.
We exchanged vows.
Not promises of ownership.
Promises of respect.
Trust.
Honesty.
And choosing each other every day.
When Dante slipped the ring onto my finger, he whispered:
“You don't belong to me.”
My eyes filled.
He continued.
“You belong to yourself.”
A pause.
“And I'm grateful you chose me.”
I smiled through tears.
Then whispered:
“I choose you.”
He kissed me.
The ballroom erupted into applause.
My mother cried.
Lucia laughed.
Marco smiled.
And somewhere beyond the windows, Manhattan glittered beneath the winter sky.
Later that evening, Dante led me onto the south terrace.
The same terrace.
The same stone balustrade.
The same December wind.
But everything felt different.
He looked at me.
“Do you remember what you said that night?”
I smiled.
“Darling! There you are!”
He laughed.
I stepped closer.
Then took two fistfuls of his tuxedo lapels.
His eyes darkened with amusement.
“Clara.”
I smiled.
“Yes?”
“Are you going to kiss me again?”
I laughed softly.
“Maybe.”
He leaned closer.
“Should I be worried?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Then I rose on my toes.
And kissed him.
Not to stop a fight.
Not to save a stranger.
Not because I was afraid.
But because I loved him.
When we pulled apart, Dante rested his forehead against mine.
“Happy, Mrs. Moretti?”
I smiled.
“Very.”
He kissed my forehead.
Then whispered:
“Good.”
And beneath the winter stars, I finally understood something.
The first kiss had been an accident.
The second had been a beginning.
But this one?
May you like
This one was a promise.
A promise we had chosen together.
