Chapter 2 - THE ANSWER HE DIDN’T EXPECT
Vincent remained beside the empty chair for another breath. He had faced men who threatened his life with steadier hands than Cara’s, and somehow that made this worse. A threat could be measured. This could not.
“Sit down,” Cara said, then immediately shook her head. “No. You don’t have to. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you what I was doing.”
Vincent pulled out the chair and sat.
The relief that flashed across her face hurt him more than anger would have. “You should have told me,” he repeated. “But I’m here. So tell me why.”
Cara wrapped both hands around her untouched wineglass. “Because I’m in love with you. Because I’ve spent five years being the person you call when your day goes wrong, the person who remembers your coffee, the person who sits with you when the house feels too quiet. I told myself that was enough. It isn’t anymore.”
He looked at her, and she forced herself not to look away.
“I don’t expect you to feel the same,” she continued. “I don’t expect a ring or a promise. I just couldn’t keep pretending I was arranging dates for you while hoping you’d finally look at me.”
The words landed with quiet precision. Vincent’s first instinct was to protect the friendship by refusing the possibility. He had built his life around rules: never expose a weakness, never mix business with affection, never give an enemy a door into your home. Cara was already inside every locked room in him. Loving her would mean admitting there were rooms he could not secure.
“I’m fifty-nine,” he said at last.
“I can do arithmetic.”
A startled laugh escaped him. It was brief, but real.
“I’ve been a widower for nearly ten years,” he said. “I’m not sure I know how to be someone’s husband anymore. I know how to keep people safe. I know how to make decisions. I know how to make a room go silent when I enter it. None of those things make me a good partner.”
“Then don’t ask me to fall in love with the reputation,” Cara said. “I already know the man.”
His gaze dropped to her trembling fingers. He wanted to reach for them. He did not.
“Is there someone else?” she asked, trying for a smile. “Someone you’ve been quietly seeing?”
“No.”
“Someone you want?”
“No.” He paused. “That’s part of the problem.”
Cara’s expression changed, but she did not let hope rush in too quickly. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve spent years telling myself I don’t want anyone. It was easier than admitting I didn’t want to start over with a stranger.” He looked directly at her. “And you were never a stranger.”
For one fragile second, the restaurant seemed to fall away.
Then Vincent’s phone vibrated on the table. The screen showed a message from his head of security, Marco: We have a problem. Don’t leave the restaurant alone.
Vincent’s face hardened. Cara saw the shift and felt the old distance rush back between them.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Work.”
“Your work doesn’t usually make you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
He turned the phone facedown. “I don’t want to bring this into tonight.”
“You brought it in the moment you decided I was someone you had to keep in the dark.”
He had no answer. He wanted to tell her that a shipment had vanished from one of his legitimate warehouses, that two men had been found beaten near the river, and that someone had left a photograph of his late wife on his office desk. But the photograph was not the worst part. On the back, in a stranger’s handwriting, were five words: Ask Cara what she remembers.
He had not told Cara about it. He had not even told Marco.
Vincent stood. “I’m going to take you home.”
“I can take myself home.”
“I know.” His voice softened. “Please let me do this one thing.”
Cara studied him, then rose. “You can drive me home. You can’t use the drive to pretend this conversation never happened.”
“I won’t.”
He meant it. But as they walked toward the door, Vincent looked through the restaurant’s front window and saw a black sedan idling across the street. Its headlights were off. A man sat behind the wheel, watching them.
When Vincent met his gaze, the sedan pulled away.
And Vincent recognized the driver.
May you like
It was a man who had been declared dead seven years earlier.
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