Chapter 12 - Norah’s Conditions
Norah rented a brownstone in Brookline.
Not Matteo.
Norah.
The lease carried her name.
The utilities carried her name.
The security system belonged to a private company Evelyn selected.
Matteo contributed nothing unless Norah requested it.
He hated that arrangement.
Which was precisely why he accepted it.
The first night, Matteo stood on the sidewalk with a bag of groceries.
Norah opened the door.
“What’s that?”
“Food.”
“I have food.”
“This is specific food.”
She looked inside.
Lemon yogurt.
Tea.
Soup ingredients.
The crackers she had eaten during pregnancy.
Norah stared at him.
“You remembered.”
“I remember everything about you.”
The sentence could have sounded romantic.
Instead, both recognized its danger.
Matteo added quickly, “Things you told me.”
Norah smiled.
“Come in.”
Their relationship existed in undefined territory.
The divorce papers remained unsigned.
They did not sleep together.
They did not kiss.
Matteo visited Sofia.
Sometimes he ate dinner.
Sometimes Norah asked him to leave.
He always did.
Dr. Keller encouraged Matteo not to treat each visit as evidence of reconciliation.
“You keep score,” Keller said.
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
Matteo frowned.
“You count invitations.”
Silence.
“You count smiles.”
Matteo looked away.
“You probably know how many times she has initiated a phone call.”
“Seven.”
Keller smiled.
“Thank you.”
Matteo scowled.
“Stop measuring affection like territory.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Learn.”
So Matteo tried.
The federal process advanced.
His attorneys negotiated.
Matteo surrendered several businesses linked to illegal activity.
Assets were seized.
People around him panicked.
Victor grew desperate.
Arthur remained loyal but increasingly nervous.
“You understand Salvi thinks you’re handing him to prosecutors?”
“I haven’t.”
“He won’t care.”
“I know.”
“He’s planning something.”
Matteo looked at him.
“Against me?”
“Probably.”
“And Norah?”
Arthur hesitated.
“We don’t know.”
That was enough.
Matteo told Norah that evening.
She became furious.
Not because of Victor.
Because Matteo waited six hours before informing her.
“You knew at noon.”
“I wanted confirmation.”
“You don’t decide what level of risk I deserve to know.”
Matteo closed his eyes.
“You’re right.”
“Stop saying that like it fixes things.”
“It doesn’t.”
Norah paced the kitchen.
Sofia slept upstairs.
“I need information immediately.”
“Yes.”
“No filtering.”
“Yes.”
“No deciding I’m too fragile.”
“Yes.”
She turned.
“And don’t agree because you’re afraid I’ll leave.”
Matteo looked at her.
“I’m afraid you’ll leave.”
“I know.”
“But you’re right anyway.”
Norah’s anger softened slightly.
“That’s better.”
“What?”
“The truth.”
Matteo nodded.
“I am terrified every time you’re angry.”
“Good.”
He almost smiled.
“I probably deserve that.”
Norah crossed her arms.
“What does Victor want?”
“To stop my cooperation.”
“Can he?”
“No.”
“What does he want from me?”
“Leverage.”
Norah went pale.
Matteo resisted the instinct to promise she was untouchable.
Instead he said, “Arthur believes the risk is manageable if we take precautions you approve.”
Norah noticed the wording.
“What precautions?”
They discussed them.
Together.
Two unmarked security officers outside.
None inside.
Emergency contact.
Route changes only when there was specific concern.
Norah retained the ability to dismiss anyone.
Matteo signed off.
A week later, Norah asked him to stay for dinner.
They ate pasta while Sofia slept nearby.
For twenty minutes, they spoke about ordinary things.
Then Norah said, “Do you miss Harper?”
Matteo froze.
“No.”
“Did you ever love her?”
“No.”
“That isn’t comforting.”
“I know.”
“Why her?”
Matteo looked down.
“She required nothing from me.”
Norah’s face tightened.
He continued.
“You required honesty. Presence. Responsibility. She required dinner reservations.”
Norah swallowed.
“So I was difficult.”
“No.”
Matteo met her eyes.
“You were real.”
Silence.
“I went somewhere I could be shallow and still feel wanted.”
Norah looked away.
“Did you think about me when you were with her?”
“Yes.”
That answer hurt.
Matteo did not hide from it.
“Did you feel guilty?”
“Yes.”
“And you kept going.”
“Yes.”
Norah’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Matteo’s voice broke.
She stood and walked toward the sink.
He remained seated.
“Sometimes,” Norah whispered, “I wish you’d tell me you didn’t understand what you were doing.”
“I understood.”
She turned.
“I know.”
“That’s why I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
Norah wiped her cheek.
Matteo wanted desperately to touch her.
He did not.
Finally she returned to the table.
“I’m glad you didn’t lie.”
“So am I.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m okay.”
“I know.”
“No, Matteo. Stop.”
He went silent.
Norah took a breath.
“I need you to stop saying ‘I know’ every time I hurt. You don’t know.”
He stared.
“You don’t know what it felt like to grow our daughter inside me while wondering who you were touching.”
Matteo’s eyes filled.
“You don’t know what it felt like to smell another woman on the man sleeping beside me.”
He lowered his gaze.
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
Finally the correct answer.
“I don’t.”
Norah cried.
Matteo cried too.
Not because the conversation repaired anything.
Because for the first time, he allowed her pain to exist without explaining, defending, minimizing, or converting it into his shame.
Twenty minutes later, Norah reached across the table.
Her hand covered his.
Matteo froze.
She did not speak.
Neither did he.
The touch lasted perhaps thirty seconds.
It meant more to Matteo than every diamond he had ever bought her.
Then Norah withdrew her hand.
“Go home.”
Matteo stood.
“Okay.”
At the door, she said, “Come tomorrow.”
He turned.
“For Sofia?”
Norah looked at him.
“For dinner.”
Matteo nodded.
Outside, Arthur waited.
“How’d it go?”
Matteo entered the car.
“She told me to leave.”
Arthur frowned.
“And invited me tomorrow.”
Arthur smiled.
“So good?”
Matteo looked at the brownstone.
“No.”
Then he smiled too.
“Real.”
Neither man noticed the vehicle parked across the street.
Inside, one of Victor Salvi’s men photographed Matteo leaving Norah’s home.
Victor received the picture twelve minutes later.
He studied it.
Then said to the man beside him:
May you like
“Now we know where she lives.”
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