Chapter 14 - THE SIX MONTHS NICO DIDN’T CHASE ME
Nico did not send flowers.
That surprised me.
He didn’t send jewelry.
He didn’t show up downstairs.
He didn’t have Arthur “accidentally” invite me anywhere.
For six months, he left me alone.
Completely.
At first, I thought the silence meant he had finally done what he promised that night.
Forgotten me.
Then Arthur called.
Not on Nico’s behalf.
At least that was what he claimed.
“His penthouse is gone.”
“What?”
“He sold it.”
That shouldn’t have mattered.
It did.
Nico also stepped away from several operations connected to the old organization.
Legitimate businesses were restructured under independent management.
Anything that couldn’t survive without intimidation, secrecy, or violence disappeared from his life.
It cost him money.
A lot of it.
More importantly, it cost him status.
“He’s seeing somebody,” Arthur added.
My stomach dropped before I could stop it.
Then Arthur laughed.
“A therapist.”
I hated him.
“Goodbye, Arthur.”
“Wait.”
“No.”
“He’s terrible at it.”
I laughed despite myself.
That was the first crack.
Over the following months, I heard occasional updates through people we both knew.
Nico bought a smaller townhouse.
He started sleeping more than four hours.
He apologized to staff he had treated like furniture.
Apparently his housekeeper nearly dropped a plate.
He and Arthur built a legitimate security firm together from what remained of their legal operations.
No secret surveillance.
No criminal clients.
Arthur insisted on putting that clause in writing.
Then one rainy afternoon, I walked into a coffee shop near my apartment.
Nico was standing in line.
No entourage.
Dark jeans.
Black sweater.
He looked almost ordinary.
He saw me.
Everything in his face changed.
But he didn’t approach.
I ordered tea.
He collected his coffee.
Then he walked toward the door.
“Nico.”
He stopped.
I had imagined this moment for six months.
In every imaginary version, he gave a speech.
In reality, he simply said:
“Hi, Mara.”
“Hi.”
Silence.
“You look good.”
“So do you.”
Another silence.
Then I asked:
“Did you really sell the penthouse?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I hated the study.”
That made me smile.
He smiled too.
Small.
Careful.
“Would you like to sit down?” I asked.
Nico looked surprised.
“Are you sure?”
There it was again.
A question.
“Yes.”
We talked for two hours.
No promises.
No diamonds.
No discussion of forever.
When we stood to leave, he didn’t touch me until I hugged him first.
Outside, we went in opposite directions.
And for some reason, that made the entire meeting feel more hopeful.
Three days later, I received a letter.
Real paper.
Nico’s handwriting.
Only one paragraph.
I’m not writing to ask you back. I just wanted you to know that when you left, I thought losing you was the punishment. It wasn’t. Understanding why you left was.
I read it twice.
Then I noticed the date at the top.
Friday.
The day he once claimed he would forget my name.
May you like
Instead, six months later...
He was finally learning how to say it correctly.
