Chapter 14 - Vincent’s Choice
Christmas approached.
Vincent had always disliked the holiday.
Too many obligations.
Too many dinners where people pretended family closeness for photographs.
This year felt different.
Lily insisted the Moretti mansion needed “less gold and more things children are allowed to touch.”
Vincent accepted the criticism.
They bought paper ornaments.
Emily helped Lily string popcorn.
Enzo tried to eat half the decorations.
On Christmas Eve, Vincent hosted the entire household staff and their families.
Not in the service dining room.
In the ballroom.
Emily arrived late after a hospital shift.
She wore a simple green dress.
Vincent forgot the sentence he had been saying.
Daniel noticed.
“That obvious?” Vincent muttered.
“Extremely.”
“Go away.”
Daniel smiled.
Emily approached.
“Nice party.”
“I was told the previous version was too stiff.”
“By Lily?”
“Yes.”
“She is an expensive consultant.”
“She charges cookies.”
Emily looked around.
Children ran between tables.
A dishwasher danced with his wife.
A gardener’s teenage son played piano badly and enthusiastically.
The old Vincent would have worried about damage.
The current Vincent worried whether there was enough dessert.
“You changed the house,” Emily said.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You did.”
Vincent shook his head.
“Lily did.”
Emily smiled.
“She does that.”
Later, after guests left, Emily found Vincent beside the Christmas tree.
Enzo slept in his arms.
Lily had fallen asleep on the sofa.
Emily stood beside him.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.”
He looked toward the children.
“I have something for you.”
Emily narrowed her eyes.
“If it is tuition—”
“It isn’t.”
“If it is money—”
“It isn’t.”
“If it is a car—”
“I considered it.”
“Vincent.”
“Kidding.”
He handed her a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
The red crayon mark on the white rug.
Emily laughed.
“What is this?”
“Proof.”
“Of?”
“The first day I stopped caring whether the house looked perfect.”
Her expression softened.
On the back he had written:
Some marks are worth keeping.
Emily looked up.
“This is terrible framing.”
“Thank you.”
“And ridiculous.”
“Yes.”
She held it carefully anyway.
Then produced her own gift.
A cheap mug.
Vincent stared.
It read:
I ASK QUESTIONS ONCE CHILDREN ARE INVOLVED.
He laughed so loudly Enzo stirred.
“You made this?”
“Lily chose it.”
“Of course.”
They stood close.
Too close.
Vincent looked at her.
Emily stopped smiling.
He could have kissed her.
He wanted to.
Instead he asked, “May I?”
Emily’s breath caught.
“May you what?”
“Kiss you.”
She stared.
“You negotiate romance like a contract.”
“I’m trying not to assume.”
“That is annoyingly responsible.”
“Is that yes?”
She smiled.
“Yes.”
The kiss was gentle.
Brief.
Nothing dramatic.
No orchestra.
No perfect lighting.
Enzo made a strange noise between them.
Emily pulled back laughing.
“He objects.”
“He objects to most scheduling.”
Vincent kissed her again.
Longer.
Then Lily’s sleepy voice came from the sofa.
“Finally.”
They separated.
Emily stared.
“You were awake?”
Lily opened one eye.
“Little bit.”
Vincent laughed.
Emily covered her face.
The next morning, Vincent received a message from Cassandra.
One sentence.
I hope you build the home you were too busy to notice you wanted.
He stared at it.
Then deleted it.
Not from anger.
Because he no longer needed Cassandra to explain his life.
He looked across the breakfast table.
Emily poured juice.
Lily complained about pancakes.
Enzo threw cereal.
Vincent smiled.
This was not perfect.
That was exactly why it felt real.
But happiness, he would soon learn, did not erase fear.
May you like
And loving people created an entirely new kind of vulnerability.
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