Chapter 8 - A New Chapter in Florence
Four months later – October 2026.
The autumn sun over Florence, Italy, was a deep, radiant amber. The red tiled roofs of the city stretched out beneath the terrace of our small boutique hotel, overflowing with terra-cotta pots of blooming bougainvillea and the rich scent of roasting espresso beans.
Ellis stood at the terrace railing, wearing a casual linen shirt, looking out over the Ponte Vecchio bridge spanning the Arno River.
I stepped out onto the terrace, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind and resting my head against his back.
"What are you thinking about?" I asked softy.
Ellis turned around in my arms, smiling down at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He reached up, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his thumb lightly grazing my left cheek—where no bruise remained, only smooth, healthy skin.
"I was thinking about the Habitat for Humanity build in Kentwood four years ago," Ellis admitted, pulling me closer. "The day I met you."
"Oh yeah?" I giggled. "What about it?"
"You were holding a power nailer, yelling at a contractor twice your size because he used the wrong grade of plywood for the subflooring," Ellis laughed softly. "I remember standing there with a box of screws thinking, That is the most fierce, capable, terrifying woman I have ever seen in my life. I’m going to marry her."
"I wasn't terrifying," I protested playfully, tapping his chest. "I was just making sure the floor didn't collapse!"
"And you’ve been holding up the floor ever since," Ellis said, his tone turning sweet and earnest. "How does it feel, Essie? Being four thousand miles away from Michigan? Not managing anyone's mess? Not checking your phone for emergencies?"
I took a deep breath of the warm Italian air. For two whole weeks, my phone had been silent. There were no frantic texts from my mother, no legal updates from attorneys, no insurance claims to audit, and no family secrets to hide.
Dr. Ashby had hired a fantastic assistant manager to cover for me at the clinic. Grandma Marin was staying at our house with Aunt Loretta and Ivy, having the time of her life hosting weekly bridge tournaments in our living room. My mother had taken a job as a receptionist at a dentist’s office across town and had stopped calling after her third apology voicemail went unanswered. Bridget was currently serving probation and completing 500 hours of court-ordered community service at a shelter in Detroit.
For the first time in thirty-one years, my life belonged entirely to me.
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"It feels... light," I whispered, tears of happiness brimming in my eyes. "It feels like I can finally breathe."
Ellis leaned down and kissed me—a slow, tender, deep kiss that carried all the promises of our future together.