Chapter 8 - THE FIRST KISS BENEATH THE CHICAGO RAIN
The rain began as we left Harold's café.
Cold.
Heavy.
Relentless.
Vincent opened his umbrella.
I stepped beneath it.
For several minutes, we walked in silence.
Then I asked:
“Did you know your uncle was involved?”
Vincent shook his head.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Do you believe Harold?”
He hesitated.
“I believe we need more evidence.”
I nodded.
We stopped beside the river.
The city lights shimmered on the water.
Vincent looked at me.
“Evelyn.”
I turned.
He swallowed.
“I'm sorry.”
I frowned.
“For what?”
“For the world I brought you into.”
I laughed softly.
“Vincent.”
He looked at me.
“I was born into it too.”
His expression softened.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he whispered:
“You're different from anyone I've ever met.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Because I hide under tables?”
He smiled.
“That was memorable.”
I laughed.
Vincent looked at me.
His expression changed.
Something warm.
Uncertain.
“Can I kiss you?”
My heart raced.
I stared.
Then whispered:
“Yes.”
He leaned closer.
Our lips met.
Softly.
Carefully.
For a moment, Chicago disappeared.
The rain.
The danger.
The secrets.
Everything.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine.
“Evelyn.”
His voice was rough.
I smiled.
“Yes?”
He looked at me.
“I think I'm in trouble.”
I laughed.
“Vincent Marino.”
May you like
I touched his cheek.
“You have no idea.”
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