Chapter 11 - THE COFFEE THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
Six months later, I met Nicholas at a small café in Lincoln Park.
He was no longer my patient.
His rehabilitation had progressed.
And the legal process surrounding his cooperation was still ongoing.
He arrived wearing a simple navy sweater.
No expensive suit.
No entourage.
Just Nicholas.
I smiled.
“You look normal.”
He laughed.
“That's the nicest insult anyone's ever given me.”
We ordered coffee.
Talked about books.
Music.
Chicago winters.
For the first time, I learned about his childhood.
His mother.
His father.
His fear of becoming weak.
He listened when I talked about nursing school.
My student loans.
My dream of working in trauma care.
He didn't interrupt.
Didn't offer to fix everything.
Didn't make promises he couldn't keep.
At the end of the afternoon, he walked me to my car.
“Clara.”
I turned.
“Yes?”
“I like you.”
I smiled.
“I noticed.”
He laughed softly.
“But I don't want to rush you,” he continued.
I looked at him.
“Then don't.”
He nodded.
I stepped closer.
And kissed his cheek.
May you like
His expression was priceless.
For a man who had once commanded an empire, Nicholas Castellano looked completely speechless.
