Chapter 91 RETURNING HIS LOVE.

Chapter 91 RETURNING HIS LOVE.
CINNAMON.
I had spent nearly three weeks losing sleep over a question that seems straightforward until you find yourself faced with it. "What do you give a man who already has everything for Valentine's?" Dante Moretti had it all, and anything he didn't have, he could easily acquire. So, what could I possibly give him that would truly surprise him?
I went back and forth until I shifted my focus from what he owned to how he felt. What inspired him? What did he carry quietly within himself? What would he never buy for himself because doing so would mean admitting he needed it? That’s where I found my answer.
The gifts had been ordered three weeks in advance, confirmed twice, and were meant to arrive two days before Valentine's. When they hadn't shown up by the evening of the thirteenth, I found myself sitting in the kitchen on the phone with customer service because I had lost my patience. Dante passed through the kitchen once, noticed my expression, silently poured me a glass of water, placed it next to me without saying a word, and left.
I knew he was planning to go all out for me this Valentine's Day and indeed, he did. It broke my heart that I still hadn’t received my gift yesterday. Instead, the gifts arrived today, which was both a relief and an embarrassment I was still grappling with as I carried the last box downstairs and arranged everything in the living room before he woke up.
As I walked down the stairs in his white dress shirt, because I loved how it smelled and fit, I noticed him trailing behind me. When we reached the living room, I stood at its center and waited for his reaction. He turned slowly in a circle, taking in every corner of the room.
"Happy Valentine's Day, husband," I said.
"It was yesterday."
"I know that." I kept my arms crossed. "The order got messed up."
"Cinnamon." He walked over to me and kissed me. "You didn’t have to—"
"Yes, I did. You’re the one who rented an entire venue so I could celebrate with my friends. You planned everything yesterday down to the last detail—the flowers, the food, the jewelry—every bit of it, and you do this consistently, not just when someone is watching." I held his gaze. "You take such good care of everyone around you. I will take care of you."
He looked at me with love.
"You’re all the gift I need," he said. "Your heart is the most valuable thing I own."
I let that sink in for a moment.
"That was beautiful," I said. "Now open your gifts."
I shifted slightly to the side, close enough to see his expression but far enough not to loom over him.
The first gift was a limited edition diamond watch.
He turned it over in his hands and beamed with joy.
'Good,' I thought. 'Because you deserve it.'
Next was the document holder. I'd had his initials pressed into the leather by hand and tucked inside a handwritten note detailing each gift and why I chose it. Not because he needed an explanation but so he would know how much thought went into it long before the purchase. He read the note carefully.
The whiskey made him laugh. "How did you even—" He shook his head in disbelief. "Cinnamon."
"I have my sources."
"Your sources got me a bottle that was locked in a glass case at a restaurant in Scotland."
"And your sources got me a car with a bow on it. We're even."
He laughed again, and my heart swelled with happiness.
Then he reached for the last gift, a small black box from which I'd deliberately left off the ribbon.
He glanced at me before touching it.
"That one’s last," I said, my voice dropping without intention.
This was the one I had prayed about. The one I'd held when it arrived, sitting alone in the kitchen, turning it over in my hands, hoping I'd made the right choice
Dante's hands slightly trembled as he opened the box. He went quiet. His father gazed back at him from the pendant, a photograph I had discovered in an old family album his mother had once shared with me, where he was laughing, and his eyes sparkled just like Dante's did when he was truly happy. I had transferred that image onto the gold.
Dante didn't say a word. He stared at his father's face cradled in his hand, and the room seemed to hold its breath around him. Dante missed his dad, and I understood that deeply. Now he could keep him close at all times.
 Dante looked up, his throat tightened, and his eyes were filled with held back tears as he gazed intently. He wrapped his arms around me tightly, and I held on just as firmly, one hand pressed flat against his back with my face nestled against his neck.
"I love you," he whispered into my hair. "I love you. I love you, Cinnamon."
"I know," I replied.
 He held me close while I remained right where I was. There was no place I needed to be.
This was what you offered a man who had everything. You found what money couldn't buy and returned it to him gently with both hands, allowing him to truly feel it.

After Oliver returned home, we got ready and left the house. Dante held up the necklace while I fastened it around his neck, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades before he turned to face me. He still wore it as we secured Oliver's car seat straps tight.
Our son was full of energy, typical for a two-year-old reunited with his parents after a night apart chattering excitedly about Grandma's pancakes and recounting something a boy at school had done that seemed like the most unjust act in history.
 Dante caught my eye in the rearview mirror and I squeezed my face to stifle laughter as I turned to look out the window.
Dante was driving us, and we were nearing the gates of Oliver's school. It was a respectable and secure private institution. We didn’t want to enroll him in one of those elite schools for the wealthy because we wanted him to have a humble and normal upbringing.
We both got out of the car, with Dante unbuckling Oliver. He stood on the pavement between us, his school bag in place, looking up at us with a sweet but uncertain expression.
Dante crouched down first. “You know what you are?” He cradled Oliver's small face in his hands. “Smart. Handsome.” He tapped his chest. “And so loved. Do you understand me?”
Oliver nodded seriously, as if he were receiving important information to remember.
I knelt beside Dante, adjusted Oliver's collar, and pulled him close to me. “We’ll be right here when the day is over, okay? Right here.”
He hugged me first, then Dante, then back to me again before finally embracing us both at once. Then he turned and ran toward the classroom door with his bag bouncing behind him, not looking back for even a moment.
I stood up, and Dante took my hand. We remained at the gate until Oliver disappeared through the door before getting back in the car and heading toward the office.