Chapter 13 - THE FIRST DINNER WITHOUT GUARDS
One month became three. The café survived a broken refrigerator, a burst pipe, and a weekend when rain kept nearly every customer away. Elena learned to balance invoices while Sophia slept upstairs in their new apartment. Dante visited occasionally, always paying for his coffee and never arriving with a convoy.
When he asked again, Elena said yes.
They chose a small Italian restaurant in Hoboken. Dante arrived without visible security and wore a plain blue sweater. Elena teased him for looking like a man trying to disguise himself as an accountant.
"I thought that might be reassuring," he said.
"Only if you can do taxes."
He laughed, and the sound surprised them both.
Over dinner they spoke about ordinary things. Elena told him how Daniel used to sing off-key while washing dishes. Dante described Marco's terrible habit of buying motorcycles he couldn't repair. Neither treated the dead as obstacles to a new life.
Then Elena set down her fork. "I need you to understand something. Sophia is not a reason for you to stay close to me."
Dante nodded. "I understand."
"She loves you. That doesn't mean I owe you anything."
"You don't."
"And if we do this, I won't move back into that mansion."
He looked at her. "I was going to sell it."
Elena blinked. "Really?"
"It has eighteen rooms and no good memories left in most of them. I want a smaller house. A place where the kitchen isn't three corridors away from the dining room."
She studied him. "That's a very specific dream."
"I have had time to think."
May you like
Outside, the river reflected the city lights. Elena reached across the table and placed her hand over his. Dante did not move until she did.
It was a small gesture. For a man accustomed to commanding rooms, its voluntary tenderness was astonishing.
