Chapter 7 - The Life We Chose
One year later, rain returned to Chicago.
Not a storm.
Just steady spring rain against the windows of a small community center on Ashland Avenue.
I stood inside listening to children laughing.
The building had once been an abandoned warehouse.
Now it housed mobility training, job placement, legal support, and technology programs for blind and visually impaired adults.
Roman funded the renovation.
I made sure his name appeared nowhere on the building.
He complained for six months.
“You’re stubborn,” he told me.
“You noticed?”
“I noticed the first night.”
We stood near the entrance after everyone left.
Roman had changed.
Not completely.
Men still lowered their voices when he entered rooms.
He still controlled legitimate shipping companies across the city.
He still had enemies.
But the criminal operations inherited from his father were gone.
It had cost him money.
Power.
Several alliances.
He never complained about that.
Marco entered.
“Everything’s secure.”
I sighed.
“Do you ever stop saying that?”
“No.”
Roman said, “Good man.”
“Both of you are impossible.”
Marco left laughing.
Rain tapped the glass.
Roman approached.
“Walk with me.”
“Outside?”
“Yes.”
“It’s raining.”
“You handled worse.”
We stepped beneath the awning.
My cane touched the wet sidewalk.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Roman walked beside me without grabbing my arm.
He had learned.
If I needed him, I took his elbow.
He never assumed.
Halfway down the block, I stopped.
“This is it.”
“What?”
“The alley.”
Silence.
The place where we had met.
I heard rain striking the fire escape.
Water rushing through the gutter.
Traffic beyond the corner.
But this time I wasn’t lost.
Roman stood beside me.
“You remember?”
“Every sound.”
“I remember thinking you were insane.”
“You put your hand over my mouth.”
“You were about to scream.”
“You bled all over my favorite coat.”
“I replaced it.”
“I liked the old one.”
“I still have it.”
I turned toward him.
“You kept my bloody coat?”
“That sounds worse when you say it.”
I laughed.
Roman didn’t.
His breathing changed.
I knew that sound now.
Nervousness.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“Roman.”
A small metallic click.
I froze.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“Depends.”
“Are you holding a ring?”
“Yes.”
I laughed.
“You realize I can’t see you kneeling dramatically.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you actually kneeling?”
“Yes.”
“In the rain?”
“Yes.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Claire Bennett.”
His voice became serious.
“The night we met, I believed survival was the same thing as living.”
Rain surrounded us.
“You taught me the difference.”
My throat tightened.
He continued.
“I can’t promise you a life without danger. I can promise I will never lie about it. I won’t decide your life for you. I won’t confuse protecting you with controlling you.”
He took my hand.
“And when you don’t need protecting, I’ll simply walk beside you.”
That was the sentence that broke me.
I wiped my cheek.
“You practiced this.”
“Several times.”
“Marco helped?”
“He was useless.”
I laughed through tears.
Roman continued.
“Claire, will you marry me?”
I deliberately waited.
Five seconds.
“Claire?”
“Interesting how nervous you sound.”
“Claire.”
“Ten more seconds.”
He groaned.
I laughed.
Then I reached down, found his face with both hands, and kissed him.
“Yes.”
He stood so quickly he almost slipped.
I grabbed his coat.
“Careful.”
“You just said yes.”
“I know.”
“You’re sure?”
“Roman DeLuca, if you ask again, I may change my answer.”
He slid the ring onto my finger.
I traced its shape.
Simple.
Smooth.
Perfect.
Then another voice came from beneath the awning.
“Finally!”
“Lena?”
My sister burst into laughter.
Marco was with her.
“You two were listening?”
Roman said, “I told them not to.”
Marco replied, “You also told us to maintain security.”
“Go away.”
Lena hugged me.
Roman muttered something about firing Marco.
Nobody believed him.
A few minutes later, the four of us walked back toward the community center.
The rain continued.
A year earlier, that sound had erased my map.
Now every noise was familiar.
Roman’s footsteps to my right.
Lena laughing ahead.
Marco complaining behind us.
Traffic moving beyond Ashland.
My cane tapping steadily against the pavement.
I reached for Roman’s arm.
He stopped immediately.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
I slipped my hand into his.
“I just wanted you.”
His fingers closed around mine.
Once, Roman DeLuca had believed protecting someone meant putting himself between them and the entire world.
He eventually learned something harder.
Sometimes love meant standing beside someone and trusting them to find their own way.
And I had learned something too.
Being rescued was not the same as being saved.
Roman had never saved me from blindness.
I had never needed him to.
I saved his life in an alley.
He protected mine when his enemies came.
And somewhere between bullets, secrets, terrible coffee, arguments about security cameras, and dinners interrupted by bodyguards, we had done something neither of us expected.
We built a life where neither of us had to survive alone.
Outside, Chicago disappeared beneath the rain again.
May you like
But I knew exactly where I was.
And this time, I was already home.
