Chapter 2
I blinked.
“What?”
“I told her I was seeing someone. That was all.”
“Then why did she say she had been waiting two years to meet me?”
For the first time since I had known Adrian, he looked genuinely uncertain.
“I don’t know.”
Before either of us could say more, Lucia opened the terrace door.
“Emily, darling, could you help me upstairs?”
Adrian straightened.
“With what?”
Lucia smiled at him.
“Something that does not concern you.”
“That sentence usually means it concerns me.”
“Go bother your sister.”
She took my arm and guided me upstairs.
Her bedroom was elegant but comfortable, filled with books, framed photographs, and antique furniture.
Lucia opened a small jewelry box.
Inside was a delicate gold bracelet.
“I want you to wear this Saturday.”
My stomach tightened.
“Mrs. Moretti—”
“Lucia.”
“Lucia, I really couldn’t.”
“It belonged to my mother.”
That made it worse.
She seemed to read my expression.
“It isn’t an engagement bracelet, Emily. I’m not trying to frighten you.”
I smiled weakly.
“I may already be slightly frightened.”
“So is Adrian.”
I looked at her.
Lucia closed the box.
“My son has spent years convincing himself that needing people makes him weak.”
Her voice held no accusation.
Only sadness.
“He learned that from his father.”
I knew very little about Adrian’s father except that he had died nine years earlier.
Lucia sat near the window.
“My husband was a good man in many ways, but he believed responsibility meant carrying everything alone. Adrian admired him. Perhaps too much.”
She gestured for me to sit.
“I watched my son become exactly like him. Reliable. Successful. Loyal. And terribly lonely.”
I stared down at my hands.
“You seem very certain that I’m important to him.”
Lucia smiled faintly.
“You are.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know how he speaks about you.”
I remembered her words downstairs.
“He mentions me?”
“Not as much as you think.”
That confused me.
“Then how—”
“He says your name differently.”
I almost laughed.
“That sounds like something from a movie.”
“Most truths sound foolish when spoken plainly.”
She opened a drawer beside her bed.
“I want to show you something.”
From inside, she removed a folded piece of paper.
I recognized Adrian’s handwriting immediately.
Lucia handed it to me.
The page was dated nineteen months earlier.
It was a list.
Mom’s medication.
Sofia’s anniversary gift.
Daniel’s flight.
Teresa’s contractor.
Emily’s birthday.
I stared at the final line.
Beside my name, Adrian had written:
Ask what she actually wants this year. No office gift card.
My throat tightened.
Lucia pulled another note from the drawer.
This one was from eleven months earlier.
Charity dinner.
Call Mom.
Emily’s presentation—make sure board gives her credit.
Another.
Six months earlier.
Move Tuesday meeting.
Emily leaving early—mother’s bakery repair.
My head lifted sharply.
“How does he know about the bakery?”
Lucia’s expression changed.
“You didn’t tell him?”
“No.”
She hesitated.
Then she returned the papers to the drawer.
“Perhaps you should ask him.”
I stood slowly.
Something unsettled me.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Something more complicated.
When we went downstairs, Adrian was in the hallway speaking quietly with Daniel.
He looked at me and stopped mid-sentence.
I walked toward him.
“Can we talk?”
He glanced at his mother.
Lucia suddenly became extremely interested in arranging flowers.
Adrian followed me into the library.
I closed the door.
“How do you know about my mother’s bakery?”
His face became still.
I continued before he could answer.
“I never told you the refrigerator broke.”
“No.”
“I never told you the landlord increased her rent.”
“No.”
“Then how did you know?”
He looked toward the shelves.
“Your mother called the office last year when she couldn’t reach you.”
I remembered that.
I had been on a flight to Chicago.
“She asked whether I knew when you’d land.”
“That explains the call. Not the repair.”
“She mentioned the refrigerator had failed and you were trying to find someone trustworthy.”
I stared at him.
“So?”
“So I called Daniel.”
“Why Daniel?”
“He owns part of a commercial property company.”
My mind raced backward.
The technician who had repaired my mother’s refrigerator had arrived the next morning, even though every company I called had said three days.
The invoice had been surprisingly reasonable.
I had assumed we had been lucky.
“Adrian.”
He remained silent.
“You arranged that?”
“I arranged a repair appointment.”
“And the rent?”
His jaw tightened.
“What about it?”
“My mother’s landlord suddenly offered her a three-year lease at the same rate two months ago.”
“I know.”
My heart began pounding.
“How?”
“Because Daniel’s company bought the building.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I stared at him.
“You bought my mother’s building?”
“No. Daniel’s company bought a portfolio of six properties. That building was one.”
“Did you tell him to?”
Adrian hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
“Why?”
“Because the previous owner was planning to sell to a developer who intended to remove the commercial tenants.”
I took a step back.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I had Victor check the ownership records after your mother called.”
“You investigated my family.”
“Not your family. The building.”
“One of my rules last night was that you wouldn’t investigate me.”
“That happened months ago.”
“That is not the defense you think it is.”
He exhaled.
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“I was already worried!”
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
His answer came quietly.
“Because you would have refused the help.”
I stopped.
He was right.
And I hated that he was right.
“I don’t like people solving my life behind my back.”
“I know.”
“Apparently not.”
His eyes met mine.
“I didn’t pay your mother’s rent. I didn’t buy her business. I didn’t give her money. I made sure she had the same chance to stay that any reliable tenant should have had.”
“That still wasn’t your decision.”
“No.”
The immediate agreement surprised me.
He looked genuinely regretful.
“You’re right.”
I folded my arms tightly.
“You could have told me.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
For the first time all day, Adrian seemed to search for words.
Finally, he said, “Because I didn’t know how to explain why it mattered to me.”
Everything inside me went quiet.
From the hallway came laughter.
A door closed somewhere upstairs.
The ordinary sounds of family life continued while Adrian and I stood facing each other in a room suddenly too small.
“What mattered?” I whispered.
His gaze did not leave mine.
“You.”
Before I could answer, someone knocked.
Sofia opened the door halfway.
“Sorry. Mom needs Adrian.”
He looked at me one last time.
Then he left.
I remained beside the bookshelves, trying to convince myself that his answer had meant nothing more than professional loyalty.
But later, when we were leaving, Lucia hugged me again.
At the door she whispered, “Ask him about the red notebook.”
I pulled back.
“What red notebook?”
Her eyes moved briefly toward Adrian.
“The one he keeps locked in the bottom drawer of his office.”
My pulse stumbled.
“I’ve never seen one.”
Lucia smiled mysteriously.
“I think you have.”
On the drive home, Adrian was quiet.
So was I.
But as the city lights slid across the window, I suddenly remembered something.
Three months earlier, I had entered his office while he was on a call.
A small red leather notebook had been open on his desk.
The moment he saw me, Adrian had closed it.
At the time I had thought nothing of it.
Now I remembered something else.
Before the cover shut, I had seen my own name written across the page.
May you like
And beside it, one word.
Someday.
