Chapter 7 - THE YEAR NICO LEARNED HER NAME
For eleven months, nothing romantic happened.
That was important.
Liana studied.
Worked weekend shifts at a rehabilitation hospital.
Visited Nico twice a month.
Sometimes more.
Sometimes not at all for six weeks during exams.
Matteo never punished absence with silence.
Never sent gifts because he missed her.
Never arranged her schedule.
Growth.
Painful, irritating growth.
He attended therapy.
Nobody knew except his mother, Daniel, and eventually Liana.
She discovered it when she came early one Thursday and saw Dr. Paul Mendes leaving the estate.
“Therapist?”
Matteo stared.
“How do you know?”
“I work in health care.”
“He could be anything.”
“He carried no equipment and looked exhausted.”
Matteo laughed.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“That’s all?”
“What do you want, a certificate?”
No.
That was why he liked her.
Liana completed her first year.
Mara moved into her own apartment nearby and started rebuilding her career through regulatory compliance work.
The sisters remained complicated.
Love did not erase resentment.
They attended counseling together.
Mara admitted she had used investigation to avoid grieving Elias.
Liana admitted she had punished Mara for being right because being right meant Elias might have died preventably.
Both cried.
Neither became magically healed.
Nico turned two.
At his birthday, Matteo invited Liana.
She arrived late from clinical placement wearing scrubs.
Nico saw her across the garden.
His entire face changed.
“LIANA!”
Not Li.
Her full name.
The first time.
She stopped.
Then crouched.
Nico ran toward her.
For a heartbeat, Liana saw Elias.
Not because the children looked alike.
They did not.
Because grief sometimes overlays old love onto new motion.
Her knees weakened.
Nico crashed into her arms.
She held him.
Then cried.
Matteo approached but stopped several feet away.
“Too much?”
he asked.
Liana nodded.
He did not say:
Elias would be proud.
He did not say:
You can love Nico for both of them.
He simply took Nico.
“Come on, buddy.”
Then to Liana:
“Take a minute.”
That was love before either of them named it.
Respect for the space where grief belonged only to her.
Later that evening, after guests left, Liana found Matteo cleaning frosting from a table.
“You have staff.”
“Yes.”
“Why are you cleaning?”
“Nico threw cake.”
“Clearly criminal.”
“Family business.”
She smiled.
Then:
“Thank you.”
“For?”
“Earlier.”
He nodded.
“Of course.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You finally stopped trying to solve things.”
“That sounds insulting.”
“It is progress.”
They stood beneath garden lights.
Chicago summer warm around them.
Matteo asked:
“Can I take you to dinner?”
Liana’s smile vanished.
“Matteo.”
“Not tonight.”
He continued.
“Not because of Nico.”
“Not because you worked here.”
“Not because we both lost people.”
She stared.
“Then why?”
“Because you are difficult.”
She almost laughed.
“And?”
“You disagree with me.”
“Romantic.”
“You laugh at inappropriate times.”
“Better.”
“You make me want to tell the truth before you force me to.”
That silenced her.
“And I think about you when nothing is wrong.”
That was the sentence.
Not crisis.
Not grief.
Ordinary days.
Liana looked toward the mansion.
“Somewhere public.”
“Yes.”
“I pay for myself.”
“No.”
“Then no date.”
Matteo’s jaw tightened.
“Fine.”
She smiled.
“Painful?”
“Deeply.”
“Good.”
Their first date was at a small Greek restaurant.
Nobody died.
Nobody threatened anyone.
Nico stayed with Matteo’s mother.
Liana ordered dessert.
Matteo discovered she hated expensive wine.
He loved it.
They argued about movies.
May you like
It was shockingly normal.
That frightened Matteo more than danger ever had.
