Chapter 15
Eight months after Samuel was born, Dante stood in Elena’s kitchen holding a spoon.
Samuel was in a high chair.
Most of the mashed banana intended for his mouth had somehow reached his forehead.
Dante stared at him.
“You are doing this deliberately.”
Samuel slapped both hands against the tray.
Elena leaned against the counter laughing.
“He’s eight months old.”
“He knows.”
“He does not.”
“He has your expression.”
“That is not evidence.”
Dante looked at her.
“You’ve been spending time with Claire.”
“Somebody has to.”
The apartment had changed since the night they first tried to build the crib.
Toys beneath the couch.
Bottles drying near the sink.
A photograph of Samuel with Elena’s parents.
Another with Dante holding him at Lake Michigan.
No photograph of Dante and Elena together.
Not yet.
The central legal and business matters were finished.
Preston no longer had access to Caradonna companies.
Sloan Development had been restructured under outside control.
The fake E.H. file had been preserved as evidence, then sealed where legally appropriate.
Victoria had moved to New York after resolving her remaining legal obligations.
She had made no attempt to contact Elena directly.
Thomas Lane had completed his cooperation requirements.
Dante’s corporate controls no longer allowed one assistant or partner to impersonate him so easily.
The engagement was history.
The manufactured breakup was documented as manufactured.
Samuel’s paternity was established.
Elena’s rights were protected.
Dante’s parenting obligations were formal rather than dependent on romance.
Everything that could be resolved by evidence had an answer.
Samuel opened his mouth.
Dante offered the spoon.
The boy immediately turned his head.
Banana hit his ear.
Elena laughed harder.
Dante put down the spoon.
“You do it.”
“No. He likes you.”
“He’s attacking me.”
“Bonding.”
Dante glanced at her.
There were moments now when the old relationship returned unexpectedly.
A joke.
A look.
The way Elena still touched his sleeve when she wanted his full attention.
The way Dante knew exactly how she took coffee without needing to ask.
Neither mentioned those moments.
They had gone on one dinner together without Samuel.
They called it dinner.
Nothing more.
They had not kissed.
They had not promised anything.
Elena had once told him:
“I need to know that if we ever try again, it isn’t because we have a baby.”
Dante agreed.
He needed the same thing.
That was the one question still open.
Not whether he would father Samuel.
He already did.
Not whether Elena could trust him with parenting decisions.
They had built that carefully.
The unanswered question was whether the relationship stolen from them by Victoria, Preston, and Thomas could become something new—or whether too much had happened for love to return without being confused with unfinished history.
Dante refused to force the answer.
Later that evening, Elena carried Samuel toward the nursery.
Dante gathered the bottles from the counter.
“You don’t have to do those,” she said.
“I know.”
She stopped in the hallway.
“Are you coming Sunday?”
“To the park?”
“Yes.”
“If you want me there.”
Elena looked at him for a moment.
“I do.”
Dante nodded.
“Then I’ll be there.”
She turned toward the nursery.
Then looked back.
“Dante?”
“Yes?”
“Next Friday.”
He waited.
“Dinner again.”
A small silence.
“Just dinner?”
Elena almost smiled.
“For now.”
Dante accepted that.
“For now.”
Samuel began crying from her arms.
The moment ended.
Elena laughed and carried him into the nursery.
Dante stood alone in the kitchen for another second before following.
There had been a time when other people decided what messages reached them, what silence meant, and whether they were allowed to choose each other.
May you like
That part was over.
Whatever happened next would at least belong to them.
