Chapter 14 - THE PROPOSAL IN THE OLD LANGUAGE
Dante proposed on a rainy Friday evening.
Exactly three years after the night Nora first answered Salvatore in Sicilian.
He reserved a table at Sparrow.
Not the best table.
The small one near the kitchen.
Nora laughed when she saw him waiting.
“You know I own this place, right?”
Dante smiled.
“I've heard.”
She sat.
He poured sparkling water.
Fresh bread waited between them.
Nora looked at the table.
“Very familiar.”
Dante laughed.
Then his expression softened.
“Do you remember what my father said to you that night?”
Nora smiled.
“Unfortunately.”
Dante nodded.
“He called you a worthless sparrow.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“And I told him to mind his manners.”
Dante laughed.
Then reached for her hand.
“He was wrong.”
Nora looked at him.
“You were never worthless.”
Her eyes filled.
“You walked into our lives and made us confront everything we'd spent years hiding.”
He took a breath.
“You taught me that courage doesn't always roar.”
“Sometimes it speaks quietly.”
“In a language everyone else has forgotten.”
Nora began crying.
Dante stood.
Then knelt beside her chair.
He opened a small velvet box.
Inside was a simple diamond ring.
He looked into her eyes.
And in the old Sicilian dialect Pietro had taught her, he asked:
“Will you walk beside me for the rest of our lives?”
Nora covered her mouth.
Then laughed through tears.
She answered in the same language.
“Yes.”
Dante closed his eyes.
She leaned forward.
“Yes, Dante.”
May you like
He kissed her.
And from the kitchen, the staff erupted in applause.
