Chapter 091

Matteo's Pov

We spend a few more hours at the hospital, breezing in and out of one observation room to another. And in all the hours we spend at the hospital, all my wife does is talk my ears off about how upset she is with me for not disclosing the details of the surprise I have for her.

I love the woman, but she can be infuriating and wearisome when she wants to be.

After the checkup, I dismiss my men to head back to the estate, seeing how I'd like to enjoy a more private time with my wife without those brooding men hovering over us like some spy birds.

I open the passenger's side for her to get in, bowing my head like her very own private chauffeur. That's exactly what I am, putting in consideration how many rides I've taken her on.

Get your mind out of the gutters, Matteo Denaro.

When I get into the driver's side, my mouth part for words, but Mirabella put her hand up, stopping me from speaking even before I get the chance. "If whatever you intend to say has nothing to do with you disclosing where you're taking me, then please shut your mouth and don't let me hear that annoying voice of yours."

Here goes those hormones.

"Yes ma'am," I remark playfully while I bring the engine to life.

She eyes me from the corner of her eye, "I really don't wish to hear your voice, Matteo. Just keep quiet and don't annoy me."

"You could kiss me," I tease, "I believe that to be the best way to shut me up."

She doesn't speak anymore. She tries to keep her face straight, but the smile fighting to stretch the corners of her lips doesn't go unnoticed.

Smiling, I pull out of the hospital and we set out on our mini journey. A few long minutes pass. Mirabella's eyes light up as I drive us out of the city, the scenery shifting from concrete to rolling hills and verdant forests.

"Where are we going?" she asks, her curiosity piqued.

"Somewhere special," I reply, smiling. "Just relax and enjoy the view."

We wind our way through the hills, the air filled with the scent of wildflowers and fresh earth. Finally, I turn onto a dirt path, and we emerge into a clearing. A tranquil lake sparkles in the sunlight, surrounded by towering trees and lush greenery.

Mirabella gasps, her eyes wide with wonder. "Matteo, it's breathtaking!"

I grin, pleased with myself. "I knew you'd like it."

I help her out of the car, leading her further up to a hill of roses where the main surprise of the evening awaits us. When we arrive, a louder gasp escapes my wife's throat, her tear filled eyes gazing at me lovingly.

"This is. . . is beautiful, Matteo." She sniffles.

It truly is a beautiful scenery; with a white blanket spread on the grassy shore, petals of red roses and white lilies scattered over it, a picnic basket, filled with her favorite foods: cured meats, cheeses, fresh fruit, and crusty bread, placed on the side and soft music playing in the background.

My wife's arms wrap around me in a tight hug, and I don't waste any time before wrapping one arm around her waist and placing the other on the back of her head.

"You really like it that much, baby?" I question as I place a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

Her head bobs in fast nods, a small chuckle escaping her.

A huge grin takes over my face. "Then I should do this more often."

She looks up at me, "you definitely should."

After getting comfortable on the blanket, we feast and laugh, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. Mirabella feeds me grapes, her fingers brushing against my lips. I savor the taste, the touch, and the love we share.

As we finish our meal, I pull her close, my arms wrapping around her. We gaze out at the lake, the sun casting a warm glow over us.

While she talks about nature so passionately, while she points out the things she appreciates about the view, my eyes are stuck on the side of her face, awestruck by her beauty and her grace and the insane amount of peace she provides me.

For a moment, she realizes my absentmindedness and pulls her body away from mine, her neck craning to the side, eyes pulled into a narrow as she stares at me. "You're awfully quiet, Matteo, what's wrong?"

I thin my lips into a smile, "nothing," I answer, "I'm just thinking."

She raises a brow, "Thinking about?"

"Us. Our Marriage." I answer quickly.

As though panicked, Mirabella turns to fully face me and I lift her over my thighs so that she's straddling me. The breeze of the evening becomes more aggressive, fanning her hair around. I find it magical, I see all of her beauty as I push wild strands of dark wavy hair away from her face, revealing her mismatched orbs which are tight with observation.

"Did you bring me here to tell me that you would like to divorce me, Matteo?" She pouts.

I immediately snort a laugh. What in the world goes through this pretty head of hers?

She smacks my shoulder, squealing. "Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm not laughing at you." I definitely am.

For a moment, she remains quiet, her palms cradling my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks. I smile and lean into her touch. "What's going through your head, Matteo?" She implores.

I kiss the inside of her palm, "I just. . . I'm just thinking about us and how far we've come in this journey. How we haven't really gone on a date since our marriage was arranged. How we've been married for years but haven't lived together for as long as we've been married. Just thoughts. . ."

She's still silent, watching me with observing eyes. I try to shift my gaze away from her, but she forces my eyes back to hers. "Talk to me, Matteo," she whispers, as if knowing what thoughts I am thinking.

I breathe shakily. "It's my fault."

She shakes her head, "don't do that. . . don't blame yourself, Matteo, please don't."

"How can I not? How can I not blame myself for all the wrongs in our marriage when it was all my doing?" My breathing turns harsh, my eyes staring into the distance.

"Look at me, Matteo." She orders, her thumbs still stroking my cheeks soothingly. I don't look at her. She shifts closer, invading my senses with her essence. "Look at me," she whispers as she leans in, her lips ghosting over mine.

Like I said, for this woman, I am a finished man.

Slowly, I shift my gaze to meet hers. Her eyes soften when she finds mine brimmed with tears. "What did I say about blaming yourself for the past?"

I shake my head, the tears at the brim of my eyes falling. I try to lower my head, she doesn't let me.

"Matteo. . ." She whispers as she uses the ends of her dress to wipe my tears off. "Stop wallowing in our ruined past-"

"How can I not?" I counter, "how can I not think about the past that broke our family up? I couldn't even be there for my children, I lost five years of their lives and now, they resent me for it."

"They don't," Mirabella says, her voice soft. "They're just different, special if you must put it that way, but they love you."

I chuckle underneath my breath, "you can love someone and still resent them. Don't you resent me sometimes, Mirabella?"

"I'm resentful towards you right now, Matteo," she says, her tone stern. "I'm resentful towards you for bringing me to this beautiful place only for you to ruin what could've been a perfect date by bringing up the past we should be forgetting."

"I'm-"

She cut me, "fuck the years we lost, we're together now, aren't we?"

"We are," I affirm.

"Do you plan on fucking it up again?" She asks.

I shake my head in disagreement. She bobs her head in a nod of approval.

"And this. . . this can always serve as our first official date, okay?"

I nod, "okay."

"This is perfect," Mirabella whispers, her head on my shoulder. "Life is beautiful. Let's not forget that."

"La vita è bella," I reply, my voice filled with emotion. Life is beautiful. With my wife in it of course.

In this serene, idyllic setting, I know that our love will flourish, and our little family will thrive.