Chapter 10 - Not Yet, Forever
Our daughter was born on a snowy morning.
We named her Sofia.
Noah held her first.
He stared at her tiny face.
Then he whispered:
"I don't know how someone so small can make me this afraid."
I laughed.
"You're the most feared man in New York."
"Not anymore."
He looked at Sofia.
"She has me terrified."
Years passed.
The tailor shop became successful again.
My father taught Sofia how to sew buttons.
Noah taught her how to play chess.
Paulie became her favorite person because he secretly gave her cookies.
Our house was loud.
Warm.
Full of laughter.
Sometimes I would catch Noah standing in the doorway watching us.
I'd ask what he was doing.
He'd say:
"Making sure this is real."
One evening, years after the day we first met, I found him in the shop.
He was standing on the same fitting platform.
The measuring tape lay across his shoulders.
I smiled.
"Arms up."
He obeyed.
"Still bossy."
"Still dangerous."
"Still beautiful."
I measured his chest.
Then his waist.
He looked at me through the mirror.
"Do you remember what you told me the first day?"
"Unfortunately."
"You said you didn't have a boyfriend."
"I didn't."
"Then you said..."
I smiled.
"Not yet."
He stepped off the platform.
He came behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
"And I spent months wondering who that man would be."
I turned.
"You were jealous of a man who didn't exist."
"I hated him."
I laughed.
"You were ridiculous."
"I was in love."
He kissed my forehead.
Then he reached into his pocket.
I stared.
Another ring.
"What is that?"
"A promise."
"We're already married."
"I know."
He opened the box.
Inside was a simple gold band.
"Every ten years, I want to give you a new reason to choose me."
My eyes filled with tears.
"Noah."
"I don't need you because you're mine."
He took my hand.
"I need you because I want to spend every morning becoming worthy of being yours."
I kissed him.
Outside, snow began falling over Fourth Street.
The same street where our story had started.
The same little shop.
The same wooden fitting platform.
But everything else had changed.
Noah Moretti was no longer feared for the empire he controlled.
He was known for the businesses he built, the families he helped, and the children who grew up believing their futures could be different.
And whenever someone asked me what it was like to marry the most feared man in New York, I always smiled.
Because they remembered the mafia capo.
They remembered the black cars.
The bodyguards.
The rumors.
The power.
But I remembered something else.
A nervous man standing on a tailor's platform.
A man who had asked whether I had a boyfriend.
A man who became jealous when I said "not yet."
A man who could command an entire city with one look—
but spent years patiently earning the heart of one woman.
He never demanded that I love him.
He never forced me to choose him.
He simply stayed.
He brought coffee.
He waited outside the shop.
He learned my favorite flowers.
He remembered every little thing.
And when I finally chose him, he spent the rest of his life making sure I never regretted it.
Years later, Sofia would sometimes ask how we met.
I'd tell her the truth.
"Your father came into Grandpa's tailor shop because he needed a suit."
She'd giggle.
"Was he scary?"
"Very."
"Were you scared?"
I'd glance at Noah.
He'd always smile.
And I'd say:
"At first."
Sofia would ask:
"Then what happened?"
I'd take Noah's hand.
"He asked me if I had a boyfriend."
"What did you say?"
"Not yet."
She'd laugh.
"And then?"
I'd look at the man who had once been feared by everyone and was now sitting on the floor helping our daughter tie her shoelaces.
"Then he spent the rest of his life proving he was the right answer."
Noah would look up.
"Still am."
I'd smile.
"Not yet."
His eyebrows would rise.
"After all these years?"
I'd kiss his cheek.
"Forever."
And the most feared man in New York would smile like the luckiest husband alive.
Because some love stories begin with flowers.
Ours began with a measuring tape, a dangerous man, and two words that changed everything.
May you like
Not yet.
And somehow, those two words became forever.
