The diamond threw rainbows across the table as she stared at it.

“Sebastian, it’s beautiful!” she gasped. “Where on earth did you get it … and when?”

“Try it on,” I suggested, lifting the ring out of the box and sliding it onto the third finger of her left hand. I hoped she couldn’t see my own hands shaking. “Perfect,” I said quietly.

“Yes, it is. Thank you, tesoro.”

She twisted around to kiss me, and I felt like I’d single-handedly raised the Stars and Stripes at Iwo Jima.

“So, fiancé,” she said, “what should we do now?”

The name took me by surprise. I guess my brain was still parked in neutral.

“Wow, fiancé, huh? I didn’t think it could sound so cool.”

“I disagree, Sebastian,” she said, her voice sultry. “I think it sounds hot. Maybe we can agree to disagree, or just accept that it’s an all-temperature sort of title.”

I laughed loudly, happiness filling me that I never thought I’d feel again.

“Well, fiancée,” I grinned, “I thought we could check out those gnarly bends on the Amalfi coast. What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy, probably certifiable, and I’m horribly afraid it’s contagious.”

I winked at her, holding out my hand as we left the village behind, having made our promise to live our lives together.

Fuck me, that felt good.

And now for part two of my plan to sweep her off her feet and convince her that marrying me was a good idea.

I don’t remember the walk back to Signora Carello’s villa. I just remember the sensation of the sun on my face, Caro’s hand in mine, and happiness in my heart.

That memory would be the one perfect thing in my life.

But if I knew then what was coming, I’m not sure I’d ever have left Italy.

Signora Carello was standing in her garden, watering the plants.

“Did you have any luck finding your family, my dear?” she asked kindly.

“Yes, I did,” said Caro, smiling up at me, her ring glinting in the sunlight.

Signora Carello clapped her hands together and kissed us each three times.

“Oh, felicitations, congratulazioni per il vostro fidanzamento, my children! I’m so happy for you.”

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this is what it would be like having a mom who cared, or maybe a grandmother. I wasn’t too good at judging women’s ages, but the signora must have been pushing 70, at least.

“And now for your surprise?” she said, patting me on the arm. “But some lunch before you go? I was going to fix myself insalata tricolore—you’re welcome to join me.”

Caro nodded her agreement, and we ate lunch in the signora’s backyard, enjoying the peace. Being this happy was energizing and exhausting all at the same time. Weird.

“So, when will you marry?” Signora Carello asked, as we sipped our coffees.

We answered simultaneously.

“I don’t know,” said Caro.

“As soon as possible,” I replied.

The signora laughed.

“Oh, you two have some talking to do, I can see that. Never mind, my dears, you’ll work it out. Have you decided where you’ll live?”

“Caro has a place near New York,” I said, “but I could be stationed anywhere.”

“You’re in the army?”

“No, ma’am, US Marines.”

Signora Carello nodded slowly, a frown of concern crinkling her eyes.

“He has to do two more years,” Caro said quietly. “And he’s being sent out to Afghanistan. On Thursday.”

“Ah.” The signora shook her head sadly.

“Hey, it’ll be fine,” I said, refusing to let the shadow hanging over us spoil today. “Besides, I might see you out there.”

Signora Carello looked confused.

“Caro is a reporter—a foreign correspondent,” I explained. “But I wish she…”

I stopped mid-sentence, aware of the irritated tightening of Caro’s face.

“Well,” said the signora, carefully, “you young people don’t choose the easy path, but it is your own path. I wish you both well. Please come back and have your honeymoon here.”

“Honeymoon! Hell, I’d forgotten about that! Yeah, we should definitely have a honeymoon, Caro. With room service—so we don’t have to get out of bed.”

Caro blushed, but Signora Carello just laughed and stood to clear the plates.

“Don’t say things like that in front of her,” hissed Caro, as the old woman walked away. “She’ll be embarrassed!”

I couldn’t help laughing. “You’re the only one who’s embarrassed, Caro, which is pretty fucking funny. Signora Carello used to be ‘fast’, remember? Anyway, I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

And if the signora couldn’t guess what we’d been doing in our room all of yesterday afternoon, the used condoms in the trash can would probably clue her in. It must be shit running your own hotel.

When we went up to our room, it had already been tidied. Caro didn’t know that we were checking out today.

I could tell she was wondering what was going on, because she looked puzzled when Signora Carello pulled me into a tight hug before we left and whispered a few last minute suggestions for our special date later. She was a class lady. She reminded me of Caro.

The Amalfi coastline was really a huge James Bond set. The roads were narrow, almost single track in some places, unforgiving, with hairpin turns arcing up the mountain and the Med many hundreds of feet below. The Honda was eating it up, its perfect balance allowing me to take the bends at high speed, our knees almost touching the asphalt.

Caro was gripping onto my waist tightly, her sweet little pussy crushed up against my ass. What a fuckin’ turn on.

As we passed the small town of Pontone, I slowed then pulled off the road next to a lemon grove and cut the engine. Just where Signora Carello had suggested.

“It’s a great view, baby. You want to get your camera out?”

She slid off the bike, looking a little shaky, and I grinned at her as she snapped some of the scenery. I had a feeling she might have gotten me in some of the shots, too. Sneaky.

While I pulled out the picnic that the signora had packed for us, Caro climbed further up to get some more photographs. When she walked back, she waved her arm at the food, looking pleased but puzzled.

“Don’t you want to ride on a bit further?”

“Nope, we’re staying here. Picnic.”

I held out a miniature bottle of champagne in one hand and two crystal flutes in the other. “Borrowed from Signora Carello,” I said, answering her unspoken question.

“I think the signora has a soft spot for you, Sebastian.”

“Must be my animal magnetism, baby.”

She rolled her eyes at me.

“Hey, don’t knock it—it works on you.”

“That is true, Hunter.”

I led us to a patch of dry, springy grass and stretched out. But when I opened the champagne, the cork flew off like a rocket, making us both hit the deck.

“Huh, guess it got shook up on the road.”

Caro raised an eyebrow. Yeah, I wasn’t the smoothest guy ever. I bet James Bond never got his champagne all shook up—just his women. Yeah, well I got that bit nailed, I thought to myself.

“Here’s to us, Caro,” I said, serious for once. “Today, tomorrow, forever. Promise?”

She met my gaze, then clinked her glass against mine.

“Yes, tesoro. Forever, I promise.”

Once we drained our glasses, we stretched out on the grass in each other’s arms. There was no pressure, no expectation of more, just a deep contentment from being exactly where I wanted to be with the woman who’d always owned my heart.

“I love my surprise, Sebastian,” she said, her hand resting on my chest.

I laughed quietly. “This is only part of it, Caro. There’s more.”

“More?”

“Much more.”

“Such as?”

“You’ll see.”

After another hour, we climbed to our feet reluctantly and I raced the Honda back down the coast road, pulling up into the forecourt of Il Saraceno. As Signora Carello had promised, it was expensive and classy—and just what I wanted for Caro.