She stood to leave, but a warm, desperate hand seized her wrist.
“No, it’s not finished!”
Franco shot to his feet, his eyes red–rimmed with unshed tears. In one fierce motion, he pulled her into his arms, en- veloping her in a tight, unyielding embrace.
“Adelina, listen to me!
“I don’t care what happened before! I don’t care if it’s impossible!
“All I know is you’re mine–always have been, always will be!
“You can hate me, resent me, and curse me to hell, but I’m not letting go again!”
His kiss crashed down, fierce and commanding, laced with raw regret and the wild desperation of a man reclaiming what he’d nearly lost.
Adelina fought back, pounding his chest, but her strength was no match for his.
Slowly, her defiance melted, and she surrendered, closing her eyes as his familiar scent overwhelmed her senses.
A single, scalding tear slipped down her cheek.
***
A year later, in the heart of Provence, France, a sea of lavender stretched endlessly under the sun.
Nestled within it stood a charming white cottage.
Adelina lounged in a rocking chair in the garden, a book open in her lap, her demeanor serene.
Beside her, a small boy in overalls, his face set in a cool, determined expression, focused intently on stacking wooden blocks.
His name was Leo Siffredi,
“Leo, come to Daddy,” Franco called, emerging from the house with a plate of fruit, crouching before his son with a hopeful grin.
Leo glanced up, his gaze as steely as his mother’s, and shook his head.
“Nope.”
Franco’s face fell, his shoulders slumping.
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Chapter 11
He turned to Adelina, his expression pitiful. “Sweetheart…”
Without looking up from her book, Adelina’s voice was crisp.
“Mr. Alvarez, watch your words.
“We still have two years and three months left in our trial period.”
Franco’s pout deepened, wounded.
He’d fought tooth and nail for the chance to stay by her side, agreeing to a three–year “probation.”
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He’d thrown himself into the role of dutiful partner. During that time, he had done everything without complaint: laundry, cooking, taking care of the baby, and providing for them all. Yet Adelina still withheld the title of husband.
“Mama, he’s kinda pathetic.”
Seeing the way his father was on the verge of tears, Leo finally took pity on him and tugged on Adelina’s sleeve.
Adelina set her book down, her eyes settling on Franco.
Bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, his silhouette stretched long across the garden. The hardness and regret that once defined him had faded, replaced by a warmth and devotion that radiated from his every gesture.
Her heart softened, a quiet realization dawning.
Perhaps it was time.
“Franco,” she said, her voice steady but gentle.
“Yes! I’m here!” He bounded over eagerly, his eyes bright with hope.
Adelina looked at him, and for the first time in years, a genuine smile curved her lips, warm and unguarded.
“Tomorrow, let’s go register our marriage.”
Franco froze, his mind struggling to process her words.
Then, after a long beat, an explosion of joy overtook him.
“Sweetheart, do you mean it?”
“Yes.”
“I love you! I love you so much!” he shouted, scooping her into his arms and spinning her around like an exuberant child.
Leo watched, his cool demeanor cracking into a wide, toothy grin.
He tilted his head skyward, as if seeing his grandparents smiling down from the heavens, blessing their new begin- ning.
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Chapter 11
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The breeze swept through the lavender fields, carrying the sweet scent of hope and love reborn.
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