Chapter 8 - THE DINNER WHERE SADI CHOSE HER OWN TABLE
Chloe invited Sadi to dinner.
No family event.
No rehearsal.
Just dinner.
“I owe you an apology.”
Sadi sat across from her sister.
“For what?”
“Letting Mom treat you like an embarrassment.”
Chloe looked down.
“I knew why she put you near the kitchen.”
Sadi said nothing.
“I didn't stop her.”
“No.”
“I liked being the easy daughter.”
That honesty mattered.
Sadi nodded.
Chloe continued.
“And I liked being the thin one.”
There.
The thing nobody said.
“I never thought I was hurting you because I wasn't the one making comments.”
Sadi looked at her sister.
“Silence can still choose a side.”
Chloe nodded.
“I know.”
They didn't hug immediately.
Good.
Some apologies need room.
Later, Derek arrived unexpectedly.
Chloe had not invited him.
He'd come to drop off wedding paperwork.
He saw Sadi.
Stopped.
The old awkwardness returned.
Then he said:
“I read your article.”
“Congratulations.”
He almost smiled.
“I was awful to you.”
Sadi blinked.
That was new.
“I told myself leaving was about compatibility.”
“It probably was.”
“Yes.”
He looked ashamed.
“But I made your body the reason because it made leaving easier.”
Sadi felt old pain stir.
Not control her.
Just exist.
“You did.”
“I am sorry.”
“Thank you.”
Derek waited.
Perhaps expecting absolution.
Sadi gave none.
He nodded.
Then left.
Chloe stared.
“You're not going to tell him you forgive him?”
“Maybe someday.”
Sadi smiled.
“He'll survive.”
She had.
That weekend, Roman took Sadi to dinner.
No private room.
No bodyguards at the table.
Normal restaurant.
Normal reservation.
The hostess asked:
“Table preference?”
Roman looked at Sadi.
She almost laughed.
“Not near the kitchen.”
Roman smiled.
“Anything else.”
They sat near a window.
Halfway through dinner, Roman asked:
“What are we doing?”
Sadi stared.
“Eating?”
“You know what I mean.”
She did.
Fake relationship.
Then not fake.
Consulting.
Danger.
Coffee.
Waiting outside Ilvento.
Everything between.
“I don't want to be rescued.”
Roman nodded.
“I know.”
“I don't want you paying my loans.”
“I know.”
“I don't want a penthouse.”
“Noted.”
“I might want a dog.”
Roman looked alarmed.
“We'll negotiate.”
She laughed.
Then became serious.
“I don't want to become your proof that you're changing.”
His expression shifted.
Good.
“You don't get to point at me someday and say look, Sadi loves me, therefore I'm a good man.”
Roman held her gaze.
“Agreed.”
“And?”
He thought.
“I don't want you to become small enough to fit into my life.”
Sadi's throat tightened.
Roman continued:
“I want to know whether there is space in yours.”
Not ownership.
Not rescue.
Space.
Sadi looked down at her plate.
Then:
“There might be.”
Roman smiled.
“That's extremely noncommittal.”
May you like
“Live with it.”
“I intend to.”
