Chapter 9 - THE BUTTON IN THE GLASS CASE
Roman proposed to Meera six years after the elevator.
Evan was twelve.
Roman asked Meera first.
Not Evan.
Important.
They were cooking in her apartment.
Roman was terrible at chopping onions.
“You own restaurants.”
“I don’t cook in them.”
“Obviously.”
He put the knife down.
Then:
“Meera.”
She looked at his face.
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“You’re serious.”
“Usually offensive when people say that.”
He reached into his pocket.
Ring.
Simple.
Still expensive.
But not absurd.
“I don’t want to marry you because Evan saved me.”
“Good start.”
“I don’t want to marry you because you stood between him and two men when you were terrified.”
“Better.”
“I want to marry you because six years later you still tell me when I’m turning protection into control.”
She smiled.
“And because your apartment somehow became the place where I learned bad news does not mean somebody has to be punished for delivering it.”
Her eyes filled.
Roman continued:
“If the answer is no, nothing changes tomorrow.”
That mattered.
“Will you marry me?”
Meera looked at him.
“Yes.”
Evan screamed from the hallway:
“YES!”
Meera closed her eyes.
“You were listening?”
“No.”
Roman looked at him.
“Terrible liar.”
They married the following year.
Small wedding.
No casino ballroom.
No newspaper photos.
Meera kept Collins professionally.
Roman kept Black.
Evan kept Collins.
Nobody needed matching names.
Ortega attended wearing a suit he clearly hated.
His wedding gift was strange.
A rectangular piece of safety glass inside a wooden frame.
Not the original.
A replica.
Behind it:
A yellow button.
Disconnected.
Decorative.
Plaque:
BREAK GLASS ONLY IF THE ELEVATOR IS LYING
Evan laughed so hard he almost fell over.
Meera said:
“This is never going in the living room.”
May you like
Roman put it in his office.
Of course.
