Chapter 11 - The Wedding Nobody in Chicago Thought Would HappenThey married the following October.
Nora refused a cathedral.
Victor suggested Italy.
She refused that too.
He suggested a private island.
“No.”
“Lake Como?”
“No.”
“New York?”
“No.”
Victor stared at her.
“What do you want?”
Nora smiled.
“The backyard.”
Victor looked confused.
“What backyard?”
“Oak Park.”
The safe house.
The place where their story truly began.
Victor understood.
“Okay.”
Only forty people attended.
Nora invited classmates.
Professors.
Nurses.
Mrs. Alvarez from Bridgeport Storage.
Victor invited Adrian, Dom, and the few men who had followed him into legitimate life.
No politicians.
No crime bosses.
No reporters.
Nora placed Richie’s badge inside her bouquet.
Before the ceremony, she stood alone in the living room.
The same room where Victor had nearly died.
She remembered blood on her hands.
Fear.
His voice.
Fix it.
Nora smiled.
“You always did have terrible manners.”
“Talking to yourself?”
She turned.
Adrian stood in the doorway.
“You’re not supposed to see the bride.”
“I’m not marrying you.”
“Thank God.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“I wanted to give you something.”
He handed her an envelope.
Inside was a letter from Elena.
Richie had kept it.
Nora read.
My little girl,
If Richie gives you this someday, then you are safe.
That is all I ever wanted.
Do not inherit our wars.
Do not confuse powerful men with good men.
And never let anyone tell you that love requires surrender.
Love should make you more yourself, not less.
Nora cried.
Adrian quietly left.
Minutes later, Dom walked her outside.
“Your father should be doing this,” he said.
Nora looked at Richie’s badge.
“He is.”
Victor waited beneath a maple tree.
For once, he looked nervous.
Nora enjoyed that tremendously.
She reached him.
Victor whispered, “You’re beautiful.”
“You look terrified.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
The ceremony was simple.
When the officiant asked Victor whether he took Nora freely, Nora raised an eyebrow.
Victor smiled.
“Freely.”
When asked the same question, Nora answered louder.
“Absolutely.”
Everyone laughed.
They exchanged vows.
Victor’s were short.
“I spent most of my life believing love meant protecting what belonged to me. Nora taught me love means protecting another person’s right to belong to themselves. I choose her knowing she owes me nothing. I will keep choosing her for as long as she chooses me.”
Nora cried again.
She hated him for that.
Her vows were simpler.
“The first night we met, I saved your life.”
Victor smiled.
“The truth is, you eventually saved mine too. Not from bullets. From becoming someone I wouldn’t recognize. I choose the man you decided to become.”
They kissed.
No gunfire.
No betrayal.
No blood.
Just applause.
Later, beneath strings of lights, Nora danced with Victor.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“That I married the woman who shot a man fifteen minutes after serving tiramisu.”
Nora laughed.
“That is a terrible wedding story.”
“It’s my favorite.”
Victor spun her.
Nora looked around.
Adrian laughing.
Dom arguing with a nurse.
Her classmates dancing.
Richie’s badge resting beside Elena’s letter.
Family.
Not blood.
May you like
Choice.
Exactly as Richie had written.
