“It's Just Paint,” She Said About Her Wrist — The Mafia Boss Followed Her to the Night Pharmacy

On Christmas Eve, snow covered Providence in a soft white blanket.

Marin arrived at the estate carrying a box of homemade cookies and a small wrapped present for Noah.

He tore the paper open to reveal a miniature paint set.

“For the next masterpiece,” she told him.

Noah hugged her.

At dinner, he spoke more than he had in weeks. He told Freddy that the turkey was too dry and informed Gideon that the gravy needed more salt.

Gideon accepted both criticisms without protest.

Later, Noah fell asleep beside the Christmas tree, wrapped in a blanket. Marin tucked it around him and followed Gideon into the quiet study.

He had placed a small box on the desk.

“Before you panic,” he said, “it's not a ring.”

“That's a suspicious way to begin.”

He opened the box. Inside was a brass key.

“My wife used to say a home isn't a place where someone keeps you. It's a place where you can always come back.”

Marin touched the key.

“What does this open?”

“The front door of the estate. And the little studio apartment above the garage, if you ever need a quiet place to work. It's yours to use, with no conditions.”

She looked at him carefully.

“Is this a way of asking me to move in?”

“No. It's a way of telling you that you have a choice.”

Gideon took a breath.

“I love you, Marin. I love the way you challenge me. I love how you speak to Noah as if he's a person, not a problem to solve. And I love that you remind me I can be wrong without making me feel worthless.”

Her eyes filled.

“I can't promise I'll always get it right,” he continued. “But I can promise that I won't use money, fear, or my name to keep you beside me.”

Marin held the key in her palm.

“You know I don't need a mansion.”

“I know.”

“I need honesty.”

“You have it.”

“I need to be able to tell you no.”

“You can.”

“And I need to know that if I leave a room, you'll let me walk out.”

Gideon nodded.

“Even when it hurts.”