Chapter 16 - A Father’s Promise
Spring arrived six months after Mia first wandered into Sophie’s room.
The medical suite no longer looked like a hospital.
Most of the equipment was gone.
The IV stand disappeared first.
Then the larger monitor.
The bed remained because Sophie said it was comfortable.
Bartholomew lived permanently on her pillow.
Dr. Grant delivered the progress report in the garden.
“Her inflammatory activity is substantially reduced.”
Lorenzo nodded.
“Meaning?”
“She is responding very well.”
“Meaning?”
Dr. Grant sighed.
“You truly hate cautious language.”
“Yes.”
“She is getting better.”
He finally smiled.
“Thank you.”
“She’ll still need monitoring.”
“I understand.”
“And rehabilitation.”
“Yes.”
“And a childhood.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“You planned that last one.”
“Absolutely.”
School applications began.
Lorenzo disliked all of them.
Too many students.
Too few gates.
Not enough medical staff.
Elena finally took the brochures away.
“You’re impossible.”
“I have criteria.”
“You have a bunker checklist.”
Sophie chose a small private school twenty minutes from the estate.
Why?
Because the playground had a red slide.
Lorenzo stared at the campus for a long time.
“That’s your reason?”
“Yes.”
“What about academics?”
Sophie looked confused.
“I’m five.”
Elena turned away to hide laughter.
The first morning of school, Lorenzo wore a suit as though attending negotiations.
Sophie wore a navy uniform and pink backpack.
Mia cried because she could not go with her.
“You have preschool,” Elena reminded her.
“I want big school.”
“You’ll get there.”
Sophie hugged Mia.
“I’ll tell you everything.”
At the entrance, Sophie stopped.
Children moved past them.
Parents talked.
A teacher waved.
Sophie grabbed Lorenzo’s hand.
“I’m scared.”
He crouched.
“So am I.”
She looked surprised.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re walking somewhere I can’t follow.”
Sophie thought about that.
Then smiled.
“You can pick me up.”
“I will.”
“Promise?”
Lorenzo hesitated.
He had become careful with promises.
“Yes.”
This one he could keep.
“I promise.”
Sophie released his hand.
Walked three steps.
Turned.
Waved.
Then disappeared inside.
Lorenzo remained standing.
Elena touched his arm.
“You survived.”
“It’s been six seconds.”
“Still.”
He looked at her.
“Coffee?”
“That sounds dangerously normal.”
“I’m experimenting.”
They went to a small café.
No security table.
No private room.
Marco remained outside pretending not to watch.
Elena smiled.
“He’s terrible at being invisible.”
“He’s offended by cafés.”
“Why?”
“He believes chairs should have strategic sight lines.”
Elena laughed.
Then Lorenzo became serious.
“I want to ask you something.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It probably is.”
She waited.
“I don’t want you working at the estate anymore.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Excuse me?”
“That came out wrong.”
“Very.”
“I mean I don’t want your relationship with my family connected to employment.”
Elena stared.
Lorenzo continued.
“You and Mia became important to Sophie.”
He paused.
“To me too.”
Elena’s expression softened.
“I don’t want you staying because I pay you.”
“Lorenzo—”
“I also don’t want you leaving because you think you owe me distance.”
He breathed slowly.
“I don’t know how to do this elegantly.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“You really don’t.”
He almost laughed.
“So I’m asking plainly.”
“What?”
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
“We have dinner together constantly.”
“Without children.”
Elena looked amused.
“Ah.”
“And without Marco.”
Across the street, Marco looked away.
Elena laughed.
“A date?”
Lorenzo nodded.
“Yes.”
She studied him long enough to make a man who intimidated half of Boston uncomfortable.
Then:
“Yes.”
His shoulders relaxed.
“Friday?”
“Yes.”
“Seven?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Elena leaned closer.
“You negotiate dates like property acquisitions.”
“I have limited experience.”
“I can tell.”
When Sophie finished school that afternoon, she ran toward him.
“Daddy!”
He caught her.
“How was it?”
“I made two friends.”
Already.
Lorenzo felt absurdly proud.
“One is Olivia and one is Grace and Olivia has a dog and Grace hates peas and tomorrow we have painting and—”
She talked the entire ride home.
Lorenzo listened.
Every word.
Seven months earlier, he had prayed for a single sentence.
Now Sophie spoke so much he occasionally lost track.
He never complained.
That night, he entered her bedroom.
She was half asleep.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Did you promise Mommy something?”
The question surprised him.
“A lot of things.”
“Like what?”
“To protect you.”
Sophie opened her eyes.
“Did you promise to be happy?”
Lorenzo went still.
“No.”
“You should’ve.”
He smiled sadly.
“I think she assumed I would know.”
Sophie yawned.
“You’re slow.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
He kissed her forehead.
As he stood, she grabbed his hand.
“Promise me.”
“What?”
“Be happy.”
Lorenzo looked at his daughter.
The old version of him would have dismissed the question.
The new one understood promises did not always mean controlling the future.
Sometimes they meant choosing how to face it.
“I promise to try.”
Sophie smiled.
“Good.”
May you like
And Lorenzo Moretti left the room carrying a promise more difficult than any he had ever made.
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