Chapter 8 - Standing on His Own
Six months later.
The auditorium at Boston University was packed with hundreds of professors, students, and families for the Doctoral Commencement Ceremony of the School of Health and Rehabilitation Sciences.
I sat in the front row among my graduating class, wearing a black academic gown and a velvet doctoral hood.
My heart was beating rapidly as the Dean stepped up to the podium.
"And now, presenting the recipient of the Outstanding Clinical Research Award in Neurological Rehabilitation... Dr. Tessa Fitzgerald."
Applause erupted through the hall.
I stood up, smoothing my gown, and walked up the steps onto the stage. As I took the diploma from the Dean, my eyes scanned the crowd in the balcony.
Sitting in the front row of the VIP box, flanked by two understated security guards, was Camila, smiling and waving wildly.
And sitting right beside her, wearing a navy blue suit, was Massimo.
He wasn't sitting down.
As I held my diploma, Massimo stood up in the front row of the balcony. He stood tall, proud, and completely unassisted, clapping his hands for me, his eyes locked onto mine with an overwhelming, radiant love that brought tears to my eyes.
The man who was told he would never walk again was standing on his own two feet, showing the world that miracles exist when love refuses to give up.
After the ceremony, the graduates gathered on the grand sunlit lawn outside the university hall.
I was taking photos with Camila when I heard familiar, rhythmic footsteps approaching behind me on the stone walkway.
I turned around.
Massimo walked toward me, carrying a massive bouquet of three dozen white roses. His stride was confident, strong, and completely natural.
"Congratulations, Doctor," he said, his deep voice wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
"Thank you, Mr. Pascale," I smiled, stepping into his arms and breathing in his scent of expensive cologne and tobacco.
He handed the roses to Camila, who grinned cheekily and walked away, giving us privacy.
Massimo reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small, navy velvet box.
My breath hitched.
Massimo didn't hesitate. Slowly, smoothly, he dropped down onto one knee on the lush green grass of the university lawn.
Gasps echoed from nearby graduates and parents, but Massimo ignored them all. He looked up at me, holding the open velvet box to reveal a flawless, cushion-cut three-carat diamond ring that sparkled brilliantly in the afternoon sun.
"Tessa Fitzgerald," Massimo said, his voice loud, clear, and steady. "Nine months ago, you walked into my house and told me I was rude. You refused to let me quit. You taught me how to walk again, but more than that... you taught me how to feel, how to heal, and how to love."
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I laughed through my sobs.
"I don't want a empire without you, Tessa," Massimo continued, his dark eyes burning with pure devotion. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
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"Yes!" I cried, dropping to my knees right in front of him on the grass, throwing my arms around his neck. "Yes, a thousand times yes!"
Massimo slipped the ring onto my finger and pulled me into a passionate, breathtaking kiss right there on the lawn, as the crowd around us burst into roaring applause.
