Angelo was a goddamn mess today.

All because of his bellezza.

He hadn’t looked this sharp in years. Maybe ever. Black suit hugging his frame like it was made just to torment him. Cufflinks fumbled with more times than he’d admit. Nervous, twitchy hands that couldn’t sit still.

But hell, he wasn’t complaining.

Not today. Not when he got to marry you.

Angelo leaned against the railing of the outdoor patio. The music from inside pulsed low, but his gaze didn’t leave you, still staring at you like he hadn’t blinked since the vows. You’re wearing his ring. You’ve got his last name. That’s gonna take a minute getting used to.

He never thought you’d choose him, not really. Thought maybe you’d end up with someone like Rafael, closer to your age, smoother around the edges, without the baggage trailing like ghosts in the hallway. Less broken. Less him.

But you did choose him.

Chose to love every messed up part of him. Every scar carved into his weathered skin. You kissed the past right off his body and made a home in the places he never thought could hold warmth. Christ, you were brilliant. Sharp and soft, all at once. You hustled through life like it owed you something, and he couldn’t help but be in awe of it, of you.

His hand found your hip and tugged you in, firm and deliberate, until there wasn’t an inch of air left between you. “Don’t you look so damn beautiful today.” He’d said it at least ten times already. Hell, he’d say it ten more before the night was done. A hundred more in the years to come.

His free hand slipped into yours, slow and loving, lifting it to his cheek first, then to his lips. A kiss to the ring that marked you as his, and him as yours.

For life.