Chapter 9 - The Things Money Cannot Buy
Stellan survived.
He complained about it immediately.
“The coffee is terrible.”
“You were shot.”
“Those facts are unrelated.”
“You’ve been conscious for eleven minutes.”
“And the coffee has been terrible for all eleven.”
I kissed him.
That finally silenced him.
When I pulled away, his eyes widened slightly.
“Do that again.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You complained too much.”
“I can improve.”
“Now I know you’re medicated.”
He laughed, then winced.
I had never been happier to hear someone complain.
The bullet had passed through his shoulder without hitting anything vital.
He would recover.
Victor Hale and Nathan Cross were charged in connection with Adrian’s murder, corruption, bribery, conspiracy and several other crimes.
Marcus survived too.
His cooperation reduced the legal trouble surrounding his gambling-related activities, though I made one thing clear.
Forgiveness did not mean returning to the way things had been.
If he wanted to become Hazel’s father again, he would earn it slowly.
He agreed.
For once, he did not argue.
Lillian and Noah moved back to Chicago.
Not immediately.
Healing apparently happened in increments.
She found a small house near mine.
Noah started school.
Hazel informed everyone that Noah was her cousin regardless of technical objections.
Nobody challenged her.
Three weeks after Stellan left the hospital, he came to my apartment.
No security entourage.
No flowers.
No piano.
He carried a paper grocery bag.
“What’s that?”
“Cereal.”
I looked inside.
Six boxes.
Hazel screamed with joy.
I stared at him.
“You remembered.”
“I take notes.”
“That is somehow both romantic and concerning.”
He smiled.
Later, after Hazel slept, we sat beside the ridiculous Yamaha piano.
Stellan touched one key.
“You still hate this?”
“The piano?”
“My sending it.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“But Hazel loves it.”
“Yes.”
“So I’m receiving mixed feedback.”
I laughed.
Then became serious.
“You cannot solve everything with money.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I’m trying.”
He looked around my apartment.
“I spent most of my life believing protection meant controlling variables.”
“I’m not a variable.”
“No.”
His eyes met mine.
“You’re the person who taught me that.”
I swallowed.
“I love you.”
The words escaped before I planned them.
Stellan became completely still.
Apparently billionaire industrialists could face gunfire more comfortably than affection.
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“I do.”
“Stellan—”
“I love you too.”
His voice was almost rough.
“I think I started falling in love with you when you ran after my car to return a tip.”
“That was financially irresponsible.”
“It was deeply inconvenient.”
I smiled.
He took my hand.
Then his expression became serious.
“I want you and Hazel with me.”
I stiffened.
He immediately shook his head.
“That sounded like an order.”
“Extremely.”
“I’m trying again.”
“Please do.”
“I would like to build a life with you.”
Better.
“But I’m not moving into your penthouse.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Why?”
“Because it looks like a luxury hotel where nobody is allowed to touch anything.”
“You touched several things.”
“Stellan.”
“All right.”
“And I’m not quitting work because you’re rich.”
“You don’t have to.”
“And no investigating me.”
“I promise.”
“And no surprise pianos.”
“That feels unnecessarily specific.”
“Stellan.”
“No surprise pianos.”
I leaned closer.
“We can figure out the rest.”
He kissed me.
Months earlier, I had believed security meant money in the bank.
Then I thought it meant guards outside doors.
I was beginning to understand something else.
Security was knowing the person beside you would tell you the truth even when the truth was uncomfortable.
It was knowing you could leave.
And choosing to stay.
But our story had one unfinished piece.
Adrian.
Lillian had never returned to his grave.
The following Sunday, all of us went together.
Lillian stood beside the headstone with Noah’s hand in hers.
Stellan stood beside me.
No speeches.
No dramatic declarations.
Just family.
Before we left, Noah placed a photograph beside the stone.
Himself.
On the back, he had written:
Hi Dad. Uncle Stellan found us.
Stellan turned away.
I took his hand.
May you like
He held mine tightly.
And for the first time, neither of us needed to pretend strength meant feeling nothing.
