Chapter 18 - The Life Roman Owed Her
Roman arrived at Lombardi’s fifteen minutes early.
Sadie arrived five minutes late on purpose.
“You’re enjoying this,” he said.
“Very much.”
Arthur had placed them at the same corner booth.
Of course.
Roman looked around.
“The universe lacks subtlety.”
“Arthur lacks subtlety.”
Arthur appeared immediately.
“I heard that.”
Sadie smiled.
“You were meant to.”
Dinner felt strange.
And ordinary.
Roman had been free for less than twelve hours.
He kept looking toward doors automatically.
Sadie noticed.
“You can sit facing the wall if you want.”
Roman frowned.
“You know I hate that.”
“That’s why I offered.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“I’m working on it.”
“You don’t have to stop noticing exits.”
“I know.”
“You just have to stop deciding everyone else’s.”
He looked at her.
“That sounds like something Rebecca would say.”
“Probably.”
They ate.
Roman told her about his first grocery store visit after release.
“So many yogurt choices.”
Sadie laughed.
“You ran an organization with hundreds of people and yogurt overwhelmed you?”
“None of my previous responsibilities required choosing between sixteen forms of Greek vanilla.”
She laughed until Arthur stared.
After dinner, Roman walked her outside.
Snow fell lightly.
Like the night they found Mercer Street.
Roman shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Are we dating?”
Sadie burst out laughing.
Roman looked wounded.
“It’s a legitimate question.”
“It is.”
“Well?”
She considered.
“Yes.”
Roman blinked.
“That was easier than expected.”
“With conditions.”
“Of course.”
“No bodyguards.”
“Agreed.”
“No surprise property purchases.”
He grimaced.
“Define surprise.”
“Roman.”
“Agreed.”
“No deciding what’s safe for me without talking to me.”
“Yes.”
“No disappearing into silence when you’re afraid.”
“That one seems unfair.”
“It’s important.”
Roman nodded.
“Agreed.”
“And if I ever feel like I have to run from you again—”
Roman interrupted.
“You don’t owe me a warning.”
Sadie stared.
He continued.
“But I hope you’ll give me one.”
Her expression softened.
“I will.”
Roman hesitated.
“My condition.”
“You get one.”
“I get more than one.”
“Fine.”
“If I start becoming who I was, tell me.”
“I will.”
“Even if I hate hearing it.”
“Especially then.”
He nodded.
“And…”
“What?”
“Don’t stay because you think I need saving.”
Sadie looked at him.
“I won’t.”
Roman exhaled.
“Then yes.”
“Yes what?”
“We’re dating.”
She smiled.
“You’re adorable when you negotiate normal relationships.”
“Never repeat that.”
“Already texting Maya.”
He groaned.
Months passed.
Roman found legitimate work in commercial redevelopment.
At first no company wanted his name attached.
Then a small contractor offered him a consulting position because Roman understood logistics better than most executives.
He started at the bottom relative to his former status.
It humbled him.
Sadie enjoyed that tremendously.
He complained about meetings.
She reminded him nobody feared him enough to end them early.
“Civilization is inefficient.”
“Welcome.”
Roman attended therapy.
He hated discussing it.
Then he stopped hating it.
Sadie did too.
Not couples therapy at first.
Separate.
They both had things that existed before each other.
Grief.
Control.
Fear.
Survival.
Eventually they attended together.
It was uncomfortable.
Necessary.
Good.
One year after Roman’s release, Mercer Street held a memorial for Daniel.
Sadie stood before residents.
She did not give a dramatic speech.
“Daniel would hate this.”
Everyone laughed.
“He hated public attention.”
She looked toward the plaque.
“He believed numbers told stories people tried to hide.”
Her voice softened.
“He followed those numbers even when it became dangerous.”
She glanced toward Tommy.
He lowered his eyes.
“Many people failed him.”
Then at Roman.
“Some of those people chose to spend the rest of their lives doing better.”
Roman’s eyes filled.
Sadie finished.
“I think Daniel would consider that a reasonable start.”
Afterward Roman found her on the roof.
The city glittered.
He stood beside her.
“Reasonable start?”
“Don’t get excited.”
He smiled.
Sadie leaned against him.
Roman hesitated before wrapping an arm around her.
Even after years, he still sometimes asked with body language.
She loved that.
He said, “I owe you a life.”
Sadie stiffened.
“No.”
Roman looked down.
“You don’t owe me a life.”
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant.”
She faced him.
“But I don’t want your life to be repayment.”
Roman considered.
“What should it be?”
“Yours.”
He stared.
Sadie continued.
“I spent years believing my life was something I had to hide to keep safe.”
She touched his chest.
“You spent years believing yours belonged to an empire.”
Roman covered her hand.
“What do we do instead?”
“We live.”
He smiled.
“That sounds suspiciously simple.”
“It’s probably difficult.”
“Better.”
Sadie laughed.
Roman looked nervous.
She noticed immediately.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Roman.”
He sighed.
“I had an idea.”
“That sentence remains dangerous.”
“I know.”
He reached into his coat.
Sadie’s heart stopped.
Roman immediately said, “This is not what you think.”
She stared at the small box.
“That is exactly what people say when it’s what I think.”
He opened it.
Inside was not a ring.
A key.
Sadie blinked.
“What?”
Roman looked embarrassed.
“I bought a house.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Surprise property purchase.”
“Technically this violates a condition.”
“Roman.”
“Please hear the defense.”
She crossed her arms.
He handed her the key.
“The house is in both our names only if you choose.”
“You already bought it.”
“In mine.”
“So why the key?”
“Because I want to ask whether you’d like to see it.”
She stared.
“You’re asking me to move in?”
“No.”
Roman shook his head quickly.
“I’m asking whether you want to see a house.”
Sadie started laughing.
He looked offended.
“Therapy has destroyed your confidence.”
“Boundaries are complicated.”
She kissed him.
Roman froze.
Then kissed her back.
When they separated, Sadie took the key.
“I’ll see the house.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“No obligation.”
“Roman.”
“Stopping.”
The house was small.
A garden.
Three bedrooms.
No gates.
No surveillance wall.
No marble.
No hidden office.
Sadie walked through slowly.
Roman followed several steps behind.
The kitchen overlooked a yard.
She imagined coffee.
Maya visiting.
Evelyn complaining about the flowers.
Maybe children someday.
Maybe not.
The future no longer frightened her because nobody had already decided it.
Roman stood in the doorway.
“Well?”
Sadie looked at him.
“I hate the bathroom.”
His face fell.
Then she smiled.
“But I love the kitchen.”
Roman’s expression brightened.
“Bathrooms can change.”
She walked toward him.
“So can people.”
Roman touched her cheek.
“Sometimes.”
Sadie nodded.
“When they choose to.”
Six months later, she moved in.
Not because Roman asked again.
He didn’t.
She arrived with boxes one Saturday morning.
Roman opened the door.
Looked at the boxes.
Then at her.
“Are you moving in?”
“No. I’m opening a warehouse.”
He smiled.
Then became emotional.
Sadie stepped inside.
“No carrying my boxes without asking.”
Roman laughed.
“Some things never change.”
“Correct.”
He carried one after she nodded.
Life settled.
Quietly.
Beautifully.
Not perfectly.
They argued.
Roman occasionally reverted to control when scared.
Sadie called him on it.
He apologized.
Sadie sometimes disappeared emotionally when conflict became difficult.
Roman called her on it.
She apologized.
Love stopped being dramatic.
That was the happiest development of all.
Then, three years after Roman walked into Lombardi’s and shattered Sadie’s hidden life, he took her back to the restaurant.
Same booth.
Same chandelier.
Same warm lights.
Arthur, now part-owner, winked suspiciously.
Sadie looked at Roman.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Your face says crime.”
“I’m retired.”
Roman reached into his pocket.
This time, the box held a ring.
Sadie stopped breathing.
Roman did not kneel yet.
He held the box closed.
“I need to say something first.”
Sadie’s eyes filled.
Roman looked terrified.
May you like
She had never loved him more.
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