Chapter 16
Three years after the gala, Garrett and I had dinner.
Alone.
Not a negotiation.
Not reconciliation.
Dinner.
He looked better.
Less polished somehow.
More settled.
“You still have the ring?”
He asked.
“Yes.”
He smiled faintly.
“Why?”
“Expensive.”
He laughed.
Good.
Then:
“Do you want it back?”
Hard question.
Not because I did.
Because part of me did not know what “back” meant.
The old marriage?
No.
Impossible.
The man who let resentment put his shoe against my mother?
Never forgotten.
But the man sitting across from me was not pretending it had not happened.
People change.
Sometimes not enough.
Sometimes enough for a different relationship.
“I don’t know.”
He nodded.
No pressure.
Progress.
“What do you want?”
I asked.
He thought.
“You.”
My chest tightened.
Then:
“But not if having you means becoming Carbone.”
Better.
“And I don’t want you if having me means making Lawson equal to something.”
Even better.
“What then?”
“A life.”
Simple.
Terrifying.
I laughed quietly.
“We were terrible at that.”
“Yes.”
We agreed to start smaller.
Coffee.
Dinner.
No ring.
No estate.
No family announcement.
Miriam knew.
Of course.
“What do you think?”
I asked.
She shrugged.
“Your mistake if it’s a mistake.”
Supportive.
Then:
“If he kicks me again, I bury him under the fountain.”
My mother was joking.
Mostly.
Garrett visited her separately before our second dinner.
Asked permission?
No.
Smart.
He simply told her he and I were talking again.
Miriam answered:
“I’m not the woman you need permission from.”
Then:
“But I am the woman you need to remember.”
He said:
“I do.”
That mattered.
Not as threat.
May you like
As memory.
Some actions should remain visible enough to shape future choices.
