Chapter 14 - THE FIRST DATE AFTER THE MARRIAGE ENDED
Isabella arrived at 6:58.
I was already seated.
6:30.
Old habits can occasionally be useful.
She noticed.
“You’re early.”
“I was threatened.”
“You were given a boundary.”
“Same physical sensation.”
She almost laughed.
That felt like winning more than any territory I had ever taken.
Dinner was uncomfortable.
Good uncomfortable.
No pretending.
She asked about federal agreements.
I told her.
She asked which businesses I surrendered.
I answered.
She asked whether Marco still carried a weapon everywhere.
“Probably in the shower.”
She laughed.
Then became serious.
“What happens when someone insults you now?”
“I try not to ruin their life.”
“Progress.”
“What happens when someone contradicts you publicly?”
“I become irritated.”
“And?”
“I remain irritated without ordering consequences.”
She nodded.
“Very advanced.”
I deserved that.
Then I asked:
“Are we divorced?”
She looked down.
“We filed.”
I knew.
The papers had arrived a week earlier.
I signed them.
No contest.
No asset fight.
Half the marital property already belonged legally to her.
I did not challenge a dollar.
“You signed quickly,” she said.
“You asked for freedom.”
“That doesn’t mean you wanted it.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“I hated signing.”
“Why did you?”
“Because making you fight me for the right to leave would prove you were right to leave.”
Her eyes filled.
We sat quietly.
Then she asked:
“Do you still love me?”
“Yes.”
No performance.
No speech.
“And if I never come back?”
My chest tightened.
“I’ll still have to live differently.”
She looked away.
That was the answer she had been waiting months to hear.
We divorced officially six weeks later.
I did not attend some dramatic courthouse scene.
Neither did she.
The marriage ended on paper quietly.
Our relationship did not.
We kept seeing each other.
Once a week.
Sometimes dinner.
Sometimes walks.
Once we sat in her tiny apartment and watched terrible television while Daniel, her brother, repaired a cabinet badly in the kitchen.
It felt more intimate than the mansion ever had.
Daniel did not trust me.
Fair.
Serena tolerated me.
Progress.
Mia mocked me constantly.
Family.
One evening Isabella visited the old mansion.
Her first time back.
Most of the guards were gone.
The giant portrait of Vittorio had been removed.
She noticed immediately.
“Where is he?”
“Storage.”
“You finally moved your father?”
“Yes.”
“Did lightning strike?”
“Almost.”
We walked into the foyer.
The chandelier above us was the same one from the night she asked me for a ride.
She stopped beneath it.
So did I.
“This is where I waited,” she said.
“I know.”
“You looked at me.”
“I know.”
“And you still let me leave.”
“Yes.”
The shame no longer turned into anger.
It stayed shame.
Where it belonged.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at me.
“You’ve said that before.”
“I know.”
“What’s different now?”
I thought.
Then answered:
“Nothing about what happened.”
Her eyes softened.
“That’s a better answer.”
I nodded.
“I can only make what happens next different.”
She stepped closer.
For one second, I thought she would kiss me.
She didn’t.
Instead, she put something in my hand.
Her old wedding ring.
My stomach dropped.
“I thought you threw this away.”
“No.”
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“Keep it.”
“Why?”
“So neither of us confuses starting again with going backward.”
Then she walked toward the front doors.
This time I followed.
May you like
Not to stop her.
To drive her home.
