Chapter 7 - A NEW HOME AND THE DATE HE FINALLY ASKED FOR
In February, Rose and I returned to Chicago.
Not to Vitali House.
I had accepted a supervisory position at a small hotel in Lincoln Park after completing several interviews.
The salary was lower than my former wages at the estate, but the schedule was predictable, the benefits were good, and the job didn’t include living on somebody else’s property.
We rented a two-bedroom apartment above a bakery.
The stairs creaked.
The heating system made strange noises.
The kitchen was barely large enough for two people to stand in at once.
Rose loved it immediately.
She taped drawings to the refrigerator.
She chose a yellow blanket for her bed.
And she announced that the apartment was better than the mansion because she could hear the bakery ovens turning on in the morning.
I didn’t disagree.
The first week was exhausting.
I learned new employee names.
New inventory systems.
New vendor schedules.
Rose started at a neighborhood school.
We took the bus most mornings.
Sometimes we were late.
Sometimes the laundry machines in our building broke.
Sometimes I worried about money.
But the apartment was ours to rent.
The job was mine to keep.
And nobody could decide where we slept simply because they signed my paycheck.
That mattered more than the size of the rooms.
Dominic visited in March.
He called first.
I invited him for supper.
Rose insisted on helping set the table.
She placed three plates, three forks, and four napkins.
“Why four?” I asked.
“Captain Marshmallow needs one.”
I smiled.
“Of course.”
Dominic arrived at six-thirty carrying flowers for me and a paperback book about animals for Rose.
No jewelry.
No expensive gifts.
No grand gestures.
He took off his coat and looked around the apartment.
“It’s nice.”
I laughed.
“It’s tiny.”
“It’s warm.”
“Mostly.”
He smiled.
During dinner, Rose asked him whether he’d caught the secret spy.
Dominic set down his fork.
“Some people are being investigated for things they may have done wrong.”
She looked disappointed.
“So you didn’t catch her?”
“It’s not like the games in your books, sweetheart. Grown-ups have to follow the rules too.”
Rose considered that.
“Good.”
He looked surprised.
“Good?”
“Because Mommy says rules keep people safe.”
I smiled.
“Usually.”
Rose nodded.
Then returned to her mashed potatoes.
After dinner, she asked Dominic to read her new animal book.
He sat on the couch while she curled beside him with Captain Marshmallow.
I watched from the kitchen doorway.
The same man whose name once made entire rooms fall silent was explaining why sea otters hold hands while sleeping.
He read every word carefully.
Rose interrupted repeatedly.
He answered every question.
And when she corrected him about the difference between a seal and a sea lion, he accepted the correction without argument.
Something warm moved through me.
I didn’t mistake that evening for proof that every problem in his life was solved.
But I saw a man choosing to spend an ordinary hour doing something that mattered to a child.
And I liked him for it.
After Rose went to bed, Dominic helped me clear the dishes.
He didn’t know where anything belonged.
I handed him a towel.
“Dry.”
He looked at the plate.
“Where does it go?”
“Top cabinet.”
He opened the wrong one.
I laughed.
“The other top cabinet.”
He shook his head.
“I manage multiple companies.”
“And yet my kitchen remains a mystery.”
He smiled.
We finished cleaning.
Then I made tea.
He sat beside the small window overlooking the bakery’s back courtyard.
The evening lights reflected against the glass.
For a while, we talked about work.
Then he said, “Emily, I’d like to ask you to dinner.”
I looked at him.
“We just had dinner.”
He smiled faintly.
“Somewhere else.”
I studied his face.
He wasn’t joking.
“You mean a date?”
“Yes.”
I looked toward Rose’s bedroom.
There were reasons to say no.
His history.
His reputation.
The investigations.
The differences between our lives.
There were also reasons I wanted to say yes.
He’d respected my decision to leave.
He’d never asked Rose to carry responsibility for his safety.
He’d begun changing his companies without demanding that anyone forgive him for what he’d allowed.
And when he spoke to me now, I didn’t feel like an employee.
I felt like a woman whose answer mattered.
“One date,” I said.
His expression softened.
“At a place you choose.”
“And no private dining room.”
“Understood.”
“No expensive surprises.”
“I’ll do my best.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Dominic.”
He laughed.
“All right. No expensive surprises.”
We sat quietly for a moment.
Then he reached toward my hand.
He stopped before touching it.
“May I?”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
His fingers closed gently around mine.
I looked at him.
May you like
For the first time since Daniel died, the possibility of caring for someone new didn’t feel like betraying the man I’d lost.
It felt like making room for a future I hadn’t planned.
