Chapter 10 - Five Minutes Forever
Two years after Sophie Ellis walked into Vincent Rowan’s private library, she broke another rule.
This one existed only for twenty minutes.
“No entering the library until I call you,” Mara had said.
Sophie entered anyway.
She was nine now.
Taller.
Braver.
Still incapable of respecting closed doors when curiosity was involved.
Vincent stood beside the fireplace adjusting his cuff links.
He turned.
“Sophie.”
She froze.
“Mom said you were almost ready.”
“She said you were not allowed in.”
“That’s similar.”
“It is not.”
Sophie looked him over.
Black tuxedo.
White shirt.
No tie yet.
“You look nervous.”
“I’m not.”
“Your left hand is doing the thing.”
Vincent immediately stopped rubbing his thumb across his ring finger.
Sophie grinned.
“I knew it.”
He gave her a look.
She walked closer carrying something behind her back.
“What?”
“A present.”
“For me?”
“No, for the fireplace.”
“Sophie.”
She laughed.
Then handed him a small box.
Vincent opened it.
Inside was a cheap kitchen timer.
Five minutes.
He stared.
Sophie suddenly looked shy.
“For when Mom gets mad at you.”
Vincent looked up.
“She does that frequently.”
“Yes.”
“And this helps?”
“No.”
He almost smiled.
Sophie continued.
“But maybe you can hold her until it rings.”
Vincent laughed.
Actually laughed.
Sophie’s face brightened.
Two years had changed Rowan House.
The east wing now belonged to the Ellis Family Support Project.
Widowed parents met there every week.
Mara had hired counselors, childcare workers, financial advisers, and grief specialists.
Vincent funded the building.
Mara controlled the program.
That distinction had required several arguments.
Vincent had learned.
Mostly.
Sophie attended school under her own name without security visible enough to embarrass her.
Dominic still made sure someone watched from a distance.
Sophie knew.
She pretended not to.
Evan was serving a reduced sentence after testifying against Mercer.
He wrote Sophie letters every month.
Sophie had answered twice.
Mara had not answered at all.
Forgiveness remained unfinished.
Nobody forced it.
Some healing needed silence more than pressure.
Vincent’s legitimate businesses had survived.
Smaller.
Cleaner.
He sold half the properties connected to his father’s network and turned one old gambling club into a youth center named after Charlie.
Sophie had insisted.
That morning, however, nobody cared about business.
Because Mara Ellis was marrying Vincent Rowan.
Not in a cathedral.
Not in a hotel.
In the garden behind Rowan House.
Sophie looked toward the clock.
“You’re really nervous.”
Vincent placed the timer in his pocket.
“Why are you here?”
She hesitated.
“Mom wants to know if you changed your mind.”
Vincent’s face changed instantly.
“She said that?”
“No.”
“Sophie.”
“I was checking.”
“Why?”
Sophie looked down.
Vincent understood.
Even after two years, some fears stayed small and stubborn.
She had lost one father.
The idea of gaining another made losing him imaginable.
Vincent crouched.
He had done that the first day.
Now the movement felt natural.
“Look at me.”
Sophie did.
“I am not changing my mind.”
“Ever?”
“About marrying your mother?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“What if she gets annoying?”
“She already is.”
From the hallway came Mara’s voice.
“I heard that.”
Sophie burst out laughing.
Vincent stood.
Mara did not enter.
Tradition.
Something about not seeing each other.
Vincent considered it inefficient.
But respected it.
Sophie became serious again.
“Can I ask something?”
“Yes.”
“What do I call you after?”
Vincent froze.
Sophie looked embarrassed.
“I mean, I know you’re Vincent. But…”
He waited.
She whispered, “Can I call you Dad sometimes?”
The entire room changed.
Vincent looked away.
His throat tightened.
Sophie panicked.
“You don’t have to.”
He immediately looked back.
“No.”
Her face fell.
Vincent corrected quickly.
“I mean no, you don’t have to ask.”
She stared.
He crouched again.
“You can call me whatever feels right.”
“Dad?”
His eyes burned.
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“Okay, Dad.”
Vincent Rowan, who had once survived things men twice his age never recovered from, cried.
Not dramatically.
One tear.
Sophie noticed.
Naturally.
“You’re crying.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“It’s allergies.”
“In November?”
“Yes.”
She hugged him.
This time Vincent immediately wrapped both arms around her.
No hesitation.
No uncertainty.
Outside, music began.
Sophie pulled away.
“That’s the song.”
Vincent stood.
She held out her hand.
“Come on.”
“You’re supposed to walk first.”
“I’m helping.”
He took her hand.
They reached the garden.
Mara stood at the far end beneath an arch of white flowers.
Vincent stopped breathing.
She wore a simple ivory gown.
Hair loose.
No elaborate jewels.
No performance.
Just Mara.
Sophie squeezed his hand.
“Dad.”
He looked down.
“Go.”
Vincent walked.
The ceremony was small.
Dominic.
House staff.
Sophie’s teacher.
Several people from Mara’s support center.
A few business associates Vincent trusted enough to see him happy.
When it came time for vows, Mara went first.
“You once told Sophie that absence for love isn’t abandonment.”
Vincent looked at her.
“At the time, I thought you were talking to her.”
She smiled.
“Later I understood you were trying to convince yourself.”
Vincent’s eyes lowered.
Mara continued.
“You spent your life believing love required protection.”
She took his hands.
“You were not entirely wrong.”
A few guests smiled.
“But you learned love also requires trust.”
Vincent looked at her.
“And letting other people choose.”
A quiet laugh came from Dominic.
Vincent gave him a look.
Mara smiled.
“I choose you.”
Vincent’s throat tightened.
“Not because you rescued us.”
She glanced toward Sophie.
“Not because of this house.”
Back to Vincent.
“I choose the man who learned to open his arms before deciding whether he knew what to do with them.”
Vincent swallowed.
When his turn came, he had written nothing.
Mara knew.
Of course she knew.
Vincent looked at her.
“I had a speech.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“You did?”
“No.”
Everyone laughed.
Even Vincent.
He continued.
“I spent years thinking time was something I owned.”
Mara’s expression softened.
“Then Sophie asked me for five minutes.”
He looked toward her.
Sophie smiled.
“And I learned time matters because of who you give it to.”
He turned back to Mara.
“I cannot promise you nothing will hurt.”
Mara’s eyes filled.
“I cannot promise I’ll always know what to do.”
“That part is obvious,” she whispered.
Laughter.
Vincent smiled.
“But I promise I will stay.”
Mara stopped smiling.
Tears filled her eyes.
Vincent’s voice lowered.
“When I’m frightened.”
He held her hands tighter.
“When I’m wrong.”
A glance toward Sophie.
“When I’m outnumbered.”
More laughter.
“When staying is harder than leaving.”
His voice nearly broke.
“I will stay.”
Mara kissed him before the officiant finished.
Nobody complained.
At the reception, Sophie ran barefoot through the house with other children.
Vincent loosened his tie.
Mara found him in the library after dark.
“You disappeared from our wedding.”
“For three minutes.”
“I counted.”
Vincent looked at the desk.
Something rested there.
The old green coat.
Mara approached.
“I found Sophie putting it away.”
Vincent touched the sleeve.
Daniel’s coat.
The one that had carried his final truth.
The one Sophie had carried into this room two years earlier.
Mara stood beside him.
“Do you ever feel guilty?”
Vincent looked at her.
“For loving us?”
“Yes.”
He considered.
“Sometimes.”
Mara nodded.
“Me too.”
They both understood.
Loving again did not erase Daniel.
It did not replace him.
It simply proved life could contain grief and joy without requiring one to destroy the other.
Mara touched the timer sitting beside Vincent’s phone.
“You kept this?”
“Sophie gave it to me.”
She turned the dial.
Five minutes.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Vincent looked at her.
“What are you doing?”
“Testing her theory.”
“What theory?”
Mara stepped into his arms.
“That five minutes helps when I’m mad at you.”
“You’re mad?”
“You invited eighty people when I said fifty.”
“That was Dominic.”
“Liar.”
“You married me anyway.”
“A temporary lapse in judgment.”
Vincent kissed her forehead.
The timer continued ticking.
For a while, neither spoke.
Outside, Rowan House glowed beneath soft winter lights.
Children laughed downstairs.
Someone had started music again.
Dominic was almost certainly drinking something expensive.
Sophie was probably breaking another rule.
Vincent tightened his arms around Mara.
She rested her head against his chest.
The timer rang.
Mara did not move.
Vincent looked down.
“Five minutes.”
“I know.”
“You said five.”
She smiled.
“I changed my mind.”
“How long?”
Mara looked up.
“Forever sounds reasonable.”
Vincent laughed softly.
“Ambitious.”
“You afraid?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because now you know it matters.”
Vincent looked toward the photograph on his desk.
It showed three people.
Mara.
Sophie.
Him.
Behind it sat another photograph.
Charlie.
Beside that, Daniel’s restored recorder.
Not hidden.
Not worshiped.
Simply remembered.
Vincent looked back at his wife.
Downstairs, Sophie shouted:
“Dad!”
Vincent closed his eyes.
Mara laughed.
“You’d better go.”
“What happened to forever?”
“Forever apparently needs help in the kitchen.”
Sophie yelled again.
“DAD!”
Vincent sighed.
“Five minutes?”
Mara shook her head.
“Go.”
He reached the door.
Then turned back.
Mara stood beside the fire wearing his ring.
Alive.
Safe.
Choosing him.
Vincent smiled.
Not the expression that frightened business rivals.
Not the polite smile he once used at charity dinners.
A real one.
May you like
Then he went downstairs because his daughter was calling.
And for the rest of his life, whenever somebody he loved asked for five minutes, Vincent Rowan gave them ten.
