Chapter 8 - THE EMPTY SEAT BESIDE ME
Z
Six months later, I boarded another airplane with Sophie.
This time, she wasn’t screaming.
This time, I had slept.
This time, my bank account had more than thirty-seven dollars in it.
Life had changed.
Not because Ethan handed me money.
I refused that.
Repeatedly.
Loudly.
Instead, I opened a small breakfast place with Elena in Lincoln Park.
MORALES & MORNING.
Terrible name.
Great pancakes.
Margaret came every Tuesday and complained the portions were too small while finishing everything on her plate.
Declan pretended he only visited because Ethan made him.
He had somehow become responsible for testing every new pastry.
Ethan came every morning at 7:15.
Same table.
Black coffee.
Eggs.
No cinnamon.
Never cinnamon.
The newspapers still called him dangerous.
Federal investigations continued around old Callahan businesses.
Ethan sold properties.
Closed clubs.
Reorganized companies.
He never pretended he had become a saint.
I never asked him to.
What mattered was that he stopped lying about the choices he made.
And I stopped pretending I didn’t love him.
Our first date took place in a tiny Italian restaurant where the owner hugged Ethan and refused payment.
Our second ended when Sophie developed a fever.
Our third lasted nineteen minutes before Declan called about a broken water pipe at one of Ethan’s buildings.
Our fourth happened on my couch with takeout Chinese food.
That was the night Ethan kissed me again.
Slowly.
No bullets.
Much better.
By our tenth date, he had a toothbrush at my apartment.
By our twentieth, Sophie reached for him whenever he entered the room.
That frightened him more than anything.
One night I found him standing beside her crib.
He didn’t know I was watching.
“I can’t promise you I’ll know what I’m doing,” he whispered to her.
Sophie kicked her feet.
“But I can promise you nobody gets to decide your life except you.”
I cried in the hallway for five minutes.
I never told him.
Now, half a year after our first flight, I carried Sophie down the aisle of another overnight plane.
We were going to California.
I had finally saved enough money to clear out Mom’s old apartment.
Elena was meeting us later.
I stopped at row eighteen.
Seat B.
Empty.
A strange ache moved through me.
“You’re ridiculous,” I whispered to myself.
“Talking to yourself is concerning.”
I turned.
Ethan stood behind me.
Black sweater.
Expensive watch.
Same scarred knuckle.
My heart jumped.
“What are you doing here?”
“Flying.”
“You have a private jet.”
“I’ve heard.”
“You hate commercial flights.”
“I dislike them.”
“You bought the ticket?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked at seat B.
“Sentimental reasons.”
I stared.
Then laughed.
“You are unbelievable.”
A passenger behind him cleared his throat.
Ethan moved aside.
We sat.
Sophie occupied the window seat in her approved infant restraint.
I took the middle.
Ethan sat beside me.
Exactly like the first night.
Except this time his hand found mine immediately.
Halfway across the country, the cabin dimmed.
Sophie slept.
I rested my head against Ethan’s shoulder.
“You know,” I whispered, “the first time I woke up like this, I thought you might murder people for a living.”
He glanced down.
“That seems judgmental.”
“You had two bodyguards waiting in the aisle.”
“Coincidence.”
“They called you boss.”
“Common workplace terminology.”
“You told them to fuel a private jet.”
“I travel frequently.”
I laughed into his shoulder.
Then noticed he was nervous.
Ethan Callahan.
Nervous.
I lifted my head.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s your lying voice.”
“I don’t have a lying voice.”
“You definitely do.”
He reached into his coat.
My heart stopped.
“No.”
His hand froze.
I stared.
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“You are not doing what I think you’re doing on an airplane.”
A few passengers turned.
His face darkened.
“I had a plan.”
“Of course you did.”
“It was a good plan.”
“I’m sure Declan reviewed it.”
“He did.”
I covered my mouth.
Ethan pulled out a small velvet box.
“Oh my God.”
Across the aisle, an elderly woman gasped.
Now everyone was watching.
Fantastic.
Full circle.
Ethan did not kneel.
There wasn’t enough space.
Instead, he held the box between us.
Inside was a simple diamond ring.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Nothing ridiculous.
“You know I don’t belong to anyone,” I whispered.
“I know.”
“You don’t get to tell me where to live.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to decide things for Sophie.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to scare men who complain about my pancakes.”
He hesitated.
“Define scare.”
“Ethan.”
“Fine.”
I laughed through tears.
He looked at me.
No King of Chicago.
No crime boss.
No legend.
Just Ethan.
“Rachel Morales, the worst night of your life put you in the seat beside me.”
His voice lowered.
“It became the best thing that happened to mine.”
My eyes burned.
“I spent years believing loving someone meant giving them your enemies, your weaknesses, and eventually your grief.”
He glanced toward Sophie.
“You taught me something different.”
“What?”
“That loving someone can mean giving them a choice.”
The tears fell.
“So I’m asking.”
He took my hand.
“Choose me.”
The entire cabin had gone silent.
Again.
Just like that first night.
I looked at the man who had defended a stranger when everyone else wanted her quiet.
The man who held my daughter before he knew my last name.
The man who had frightened Chicago for years but treated one exhausted waitress as though her dignity mattered.
I smiled.
“Yes.”
The cabin erupted.
People clapped.
Somebody whistled.
Sophie woke up.
And immediately screamed.
I burst out laughing.
“Oh no.”
The businessman sitting across the aisle groaned dramatically.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
For one beautiful second, I was back on that first flight.
Exhausted.
Ashamed.
Alone.
Except I wasn’t that woman anymore.
Before I could say anything, Ethan calmly stood.
He looked across the aisle.
The businessman recognized him.
His face went pale.
Ethan smiled politely.
“If the baby bothers you, I believe there are several available seats near the back.”
The man immediately picked up his bag.
“I love children.”
“Wonderful.”
He disappeared anyway.
I laughed so hard tears rolled down my cheeks.
Ethan sat again.
“You didn’t threaten him?”
“I’m changing.”
“Slowly.”
“Very slowly.”
Sophie continued fussing.
Ethan unbuckled his seat belt.
“I’ve got her.”
He lifted her carefully.
Six months earlier, I had been terrified watching my daughter sleep against this stranger’s chest.
Now Sophie rested her cheek against him as though that place had always belonged to her.
He kissed the top of her head.
Then looked at me.
“Get some sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You’re lying.”
I leaned against him.
Outside the window, moonlight stretched across the clouds.
For most of my life, I thought families were things people were born into and then spent years surviving.
I had been wrong.
Sometimes family was a sister who finally told the truth.
Sometimes it was an aunt who fed you soup.
Sometimes it was a six-month-old baby screaming loudly enough to change your life.
And sometimes it was the terrifying stranger sitting beside you on a red-eye flight when the rest of the world had decided you were an inconvenience.
The man Chicago called a king lowered his voice.
“Sleep, Rachel.”
I smiled and closed my eyes.
For once, I wasn’t afraid of where I would wake up.
May you like
Because the seat beside me was no longer occupied by a stranger.
It was home.
