Not Mine to Keep (The Costa Family)

One Month Later

Franklin, TennesseeContent © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

“I still can’t believe you did this.” The wedding reception was in full swing, and it was a clear and sunny day. Everything was perfect, but I was still in shock at how it’d all been pulled together so fast and where it happened. “At this point, I shouldn’t be surprised by anything you do. But you helped plan our wedding and kept half the details a secret from me.”

Alessandro quietly took my hand, guiding me off the outdoor dance floor setup near a stage where a local band performed.

At the sight of Nala and one of Javier’s guards kissing, I about tripped over the train of my beautiful wedding gown. Ella McAdams from Birmingham had designed it at the last minute for me, and as a thank-you, I’d begged her to come to the wedding.

She was on the dance floor with her husband and cute son, Remi.

One day, I couldn’t wait to have my own little Remi. Or Chiara. Or all the kids. A whole bunch of them.

“Love is in the air, huh?” I said with a smile as I walked by my aunt and Javier dancing. “Where are you taking me now?”

“The front porch.” Keeping hold of my hand, he walked me farther away from the party and to the two-person swing at the front of the gorgeous farmhouse.

Once seated, he knelt before me and removed my shoes, and if I didn’t already love the man, I could love him that much more for saving my aching soles and giving my feet a quick rub.

“You’re my hero.” I sighed when he sat next to me. “You keep outdoing yourself. I don’t know what to do with you.” I reached for his hand resting on my lap and squeezed it.

“I plan to make you happy for the rest of our lives, so get used to it.”

“You bought us this house. A farm. Was it really just to have the wedding here? I mean, you know you could’ve asked the owners to only rent it out.” I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder, feeling at peace there, surrounded by not just family but also nature. My heart was with Alessandro, but I could feel it there in Nashville, too.

“The idea of a farm with kids and chickens and all that . . .” I felt him shrug against me. “We can have both. The home near family in New York. A home here, too. We can have it all if you’ll let me give it to you.”

My head shot up at his words. “You’re going to milk cows? Take care of chickens?” Was he serious?

He closed one eye and smiled. “There are people who can do that for us, right?”

“You’re looking at people now.” I let the laugh bubbling in my chest free, unable to contain it. “But if you’re busy saving the world, and I’m singing, I suppose we could get some help.”

“Sooo, you’re considering it?” A triumphant smirk graced his lips. “Or are you worried about me not fitting in down here?” He held up his free hand as if saying, Scout’s honor. “I swear, I can blend in.”

Speaking of blending in . . . “The truck purchase was another shocker.” He’d picked me up out front of the hotel in the shiny black Ford F-150 last night for our dress rehearsal dinner, and I’d been stunned to see him behind the wheel of that beast. “It was almost as shocking as the fact you invited Mr. Crabby to the wedding.” I looked toward the dance floor, where Imani was being Imani—kind and sweet—dancing with the old-timer, making his night. “Our honeymoon is tonight, and I even have a gig tomorrow on Broadway. And I get to sing my own songs, and I just . . .” Now I was going to ruin my makeup, but screw it. Happy tears were worth it.

“I’m happy where you are, Little Miss. Here or in New York. I don’t care. I can work from anywhere. When our kids are in school, I’d like them to grow up here, and we can spend holidays and summers in New York. My family will visit more than we want them to, trust me.” He smirked. “Plus, didn’t you say Nashville and country music go together?” When I’d yet to give him a firm yes or say anything at all, he went on, “I know you said you wanted to live up there, but this”—he lifted his open palm toward the party—“is who you are. I want our kids to have this life, too. And in your heart, I think that’s what you want. Little cowgirl boots for our daughter. Or cowboy boots for our son.” He closed his eyes as if imagining the idea, and now it was grabbing hold of me as well.

I mean, how could it not? What a gorgeous picture he painted. “I love you so, so much.” I wasn’t sure if my heart might max out at some point from how big it kept getting because of this man. “And you’re right. I want it, too.”

“Good.” He opened his eyes, beaming. “One more surprise, though.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You’ve done enough. Please.”

He grinned, looking so handsome in his tux, and he ignored me and reached into his pocket.

“You brought your phone to our reception?” I joked as he began texting someone.

“I needed it to let Izzy know when it was go time.” He pocketed his phone a moment later. I looked around in search of her, unsure what in the world this man had planned next.

And then my jaw fell wide open. “You’re kidding me.” I slapped a hand over my mouth, searching for the breath in my lungs. To not faint. “Alessandro. How? I mean . . . Are you serious?” My hand plummeted to my lap. “Is this happening?”

“Are you up for playing at our wedding? Consider it the rehearsal for your gig tomorrow.” He stood, kicked aside my heels as if to say screw them, and held out his hand, and I stared at him, locked in a state of shock.

“You want me to play with him?” I finally managed to ask. “The man himself? Not a cover song, but with . . .” I couldn’t even finish that line of thought, it was so wild.

“His music is why you hit on me in the first place.”

“I did not hit on you,” I said with a laugh, and his big-ass smile sent me over the edge to admit, “Okay, okay. Maybe I did.”

“Oh, you definitely did.” His grin was ridiculously sexy. “It’d only make sense for you to sing with him tonight. I mean, if you want to?”

I looked out at my music idol and whispered, “You just might get lucky tonight.”

He wrapped a hand around my hip, drawing me against him, then crooked his finger beneath my chin, commanding my attention. “Ohhh, I’m sure as hell counting on that, Little Miss Tennessee Whiskey.”