Chapter 16 - A Father’s Promise
Noah turned seven in April.
Vincent planned the party as if negotiating an international treaty.
Evelyn regretted allowing him responsibility.
“There are thirty-seven balloons.”
“Thirty-eight.”
“Why?”
“One popped.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
“There’s a theme.”
“I see that.”
Dinosaurs covered the backyard.
A giant inflatable tyrannosaurus stood beside the fence.
Vincent had hired a paleontologist from a local museum to show fossils to eight children.
“You are insane.”
“Noah likes dinosaurs.”
“Noah also likes grilled cheese. You didn’t hire a French chef.”
Vincent became suspiciously quiet.
Evelyn stared.
“You did not.”
“He’s Italian.”
She covered her face.
The party was perfect.
Not because of money.
Because Noah was happy.
He ran through the yard with his friends.
Cake on his face.
Grass on his knees.
No fear.
No guards visible.
No false surname.
Margaret came from New York.
Luca arrived too.
He now worked for a legitimate real estate development company in Boston.
He complained constantly.
“My boss schedules meetings at eight in the morning.”
Vincent looked at him.
“That is generally how jobs work.”
“I miss crime.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow.
Luca corrected.
“I miss sleeping late.”
Better.
After everyone left, Noah sat beside Vincent.
“Best birthday.”
Vincent smiled.
“Good.”
“Can I ask something?”
“Always.”
“Were you bad before?”
Vincent became still.
Evelyn heard from the kitchen but did not interrupt.
“Sometimes.”
“Like bad bad?”
Vincent considered how much truth a seven-year-old could carry.
“I worked with people who did wrong things. Sometimes I knew. Sometimes I pretended not to know.”
“Why?”
“Because it was easier.”
Noah thought.
“Did Grandpa Dominic do bad things?”
“Yes.”
“Did he do good things?”
“Yes.”
“That’s confusing.”
Vincent nodded.
“People are.”
Noah looked down.
“Am I going to be bad because I’m a Moretti?”
Vincent’s heart broke.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because names don’t decide what you become.”
Noah looked at him.
“You do.”
Vincent remembered Dominic’s words.
A family is not the name you inherit.
It is the people you choose to protect.
“Yes,” Vincent said. “You do.”
Noah nodded.
Then ran inside for leftover cake.
Evelyn joined Vincent.
“You handled that well.”
“I was terrified.”
“That’s parenting.”
“Terrible system.”
She smiled.
A week later, Vincent received confirmation that his probation could be shortened due to extraordinary cooperation and compliance.
He barely reacted.
Evelyn did.
“That’s huge.”
“I know.”
“Why aren’t you celebrating?”
“I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
He looked at her.
“Marry me.”
Evelyn froze.
Vincent froze too.
Apparently he had not planned to say it.
“What?”
He rubbed his face.
“That was not how I intended—”
She began laughing.
“This is your proposal?”
“No.”
“You just said marry me.”
“I know what I said.”
“You look angry.”
“I’m annoyed.”
“At me?”
“At myself.”
She laughed harder.
Vincent disappeared into his house.
Returned five minutes later with a small box.
Evelyn stopped laughing.
“I bought this three months ago.”
“Three months?”
“Yes.”
“And you were waiting?”
“For the right moment.”
“And this was it?”
“Clearly not.”
He opened the box.
The ring was elegant.
Simple.
Nothing like the enormous jewelry associated with Moretti wealth.
“I don’t want to replace what happened,” Vincent said.
Her eyes filled.
“I don’t want to pretend we’re the people we were seven years ago.”
He took her hand.
“I love who you are now.”
Evelyn began crying.
Vincent continued.
“I love Noah.”
She laughed through tears.
“I would hope so.”
“I love Portland even though it rains constantly.”
“Careful.”
“I love your tiny kitchen.”
“You insult it daily.”
“It has inadequate counter space.”
“Vincent.”
“Right.”
He took a breath.
“I want boring Thursdays with you for the rest of my life.”
Evelyn covered her mouth.
That was the sentence.
Not forever.
Not destiny.
Boring Thursdays.
The life they had been denied.
“Yes.”
Vincent stared.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her.
From the upstairs window, Noah shouted.
“SHE SAID YES!”
Evelyn pulled away.
“You told him?”
Vincent looked guilty.
“He found the ring.”
Noah ran outside.
“Are we getting married?”
Evelyn hugged him.
“Yes.”
“Do I get to be best man?”
Vincent nodded.
“Obviously.”
Noah looked serious.
“I need a suit.”
“You own six.”
Evelyn stared at Vincent.
“Six?”
“He grows.”
“He is seven!”
“Exactly.”
She laughed.
The wedding would not be in New York.
Not in a cathedral.
Not surrounded by men measuring power.
No casket.
No secrets.
They chose the Oregon coast.
Small.
Family.
Friends.
Ocean.
But before the date arrived, Vincent received one final letter.
From prison.
Salvatore.
He almost threw it away.
Evelyn stopped him.
“You don’t have to read it.”
“I know.”
“What do you want?”
Vincent considered.
Then opened it.
One sentence.
You think leaving the family means the family leaves you.
Vincent stared.
No threat.
Maybe a warning.
Maybe manipulation.
He burned the letter.
Evelyn watched the paper curl.
Seven years earlier, a photograph had been burned to erase her.
Today Vincent burned a message that tried to resurrect fear.
He looked at her.
“No more ghosts.”
She took his hand.
“No more running.”
May you like
And upstairs, Noah was practicing a best-man speech that would eventually make every adult at the wedding cry.
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