Chapter 8 - THE SCHOOL GYM
Luca proposed in a school gymnasium.
Accidentally.
He had not planned to propose that night.
Hannah’s school was holding a fundraiser for Harbor Classroom Fund.
Student art.
Bake sale.
Teachers losing their dignity during a charity basketball game.
Luca attended quietly.
He bought six terrible cookies from a seventh grader who recognized him from the internet.
“Are you really mafia?”
the boy asked.
Hannah nearly died.
Luca answered:
“My accountant says no.”
The boy nodded solemnly.
“Cool.”
Afterward, Hannah and Luca helped stack folding chairs.
Yes.
Luca Belandi carried folding chairs.
A parent took photographs.
The internet survived.
When everyone left, music from the cleanup playlist echoed through the empty gym.
An old jazz song.
Luca looked at Hannah.
“Dance?”
She laughed.
“Here?”
“Why not?”
He held out his hand.
The gesture took her back instantly.
Harborstone.
Champagne on lace.
Two hundred staring faces.
Connor’s words.
Luca standing.
May I have the first dance?
Hannah looked around the school gym.
Basketball hoops.
Scuffed floor.
Half-deflated balloons.
Exactly the opposite of Harborstone.
Perfect.
She placed her hand in his.
They danced.
No audience.
Halfway through, Hannah said:
“Do you know what I hated about that video?”
“What?”
“Everyone said you rescued me.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
“You didn't.”
“No.”
“You interrupted the humiliation.”
“Yes.”
“But I left Connor.”
“I hired my lawyer.”
“I went back to work.”
“I dealt with the foundation.”
“I rebuilt my life.”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“You've learned the answers.”
“I am highly trainable.”
Then he stopped dancing.
Hannah frowned.
“What?”
Luca stared at her.
“I was going to do this differently.”
Her heart accelerated.
“Do what?”
He reached into his jacket.
Then froze.
“No.”
Hannah laughed.
“What?”
“I do have a ring.”
“You carry it?”
“For three weeks.”
“Why?”
“I keep waiting for the right moment.”
“This is a middle-school gym.”
“Yes.”
“A child spilled frosting on that wall.”
“I see it.”
She started crying.
Luca looked alarmed.
“Bad?”
“No.”
“Continue.”
He laughed.
Then did not kneel immediately.
First he said:
“If you marry me, you keep your work.”
“Your name if you want it.”
“Your money.”
“Your lawyer.”
“Your own relationships.”
“You do not become the respectable face of Belandi anything.”
Hannah’s eyes filled harder.
He understood.
“I don't need you to make me look better.”
“I need to be better whether you marry me or not.”
Then he knelt.
“Hannah Miller.”
She had legally restored Miller after the divorce.
“Yes?”
“Will you marry me?”
She looked at the scuffed gym.
Then him.
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes.
Relief.
Hannah laughed.
“Were you unsure?”
“Very.”
“Good.”
They signed a prenup.
Separate premarital assets.
Clear shared property.
Independent counsel.
No charitable foundation controlled by one spouse for the benefit of the other.
Hannah insisted on that clause partly as a joke.
Her lawyer kept it.
Their wedding had sixty-three guests.
Not two hundred.
No Harborstone.
No gold ceiling.
No press.
They married in the courtyard of the public library where Hannah had studied during college.
Marina—
No. Different family.
Luca’s sister Elena Belandi came from Montreal and immediately liked Hannah because Hannah told Luca his tie looked ridiculous.
Aunt Diane cried through everything.
Hannah’s students were not invited.
Three appeared outside anyway holding a sign:
MRS. MILLER PLEASE DON’T MOVE TO THE MAFIA
Hannah laughed so hard she ruined a photograph.
Luca said:
“I like them.”
After the ceremony, it was time for the first dance.
Luca held out his hand.
Hannah stared.
“Again?”
“Better circumstances.”
This time she did not need saving from a room.
She simply wanted to dance.
May you like
So she did.
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