Chapter 7 - The Booth Upstairs
Two years later, Callahan House reopened after a complete restoration.
Nora refused to change the old piano.
She refused to replace the scratched bar.
And she absolutely refused Gabriel’s suggestion to rename the place.
Above the stage, Patrick Callahan's photograph remained exactly where it had always been.
Maeve was studying music at Columbia.
Gabriel still had enemies.
Still had bodyguards.
Still conducted conversations Nora occasionally preferred not to understand.
But some things changed.
He no longer lived in silence.
Sunday breakfast became mandatory.
Maeve stole his expensive shirts.
Nora filled his minimalist penthouse with books, records, plants, and mismatched coffee mugs.
And Gabriel still came to Callahan House after midnight.
Always the same booth.
One rainy night, Nora brought him coffee.
She slid into the seat opposite him.
“Do you remember the first thing you heard me say?”
Gabriel looked over his cup.
“Unfortunately.”
Nora smiled.
“I need a husband by tomorrow.”
“You sounded desperate.”
“I was desperate.”
“You threatened me with a cocktail shaker.”
“You were creepy.”
“I offered you three and a half million dollars.”
“Still creepy.”
Gabriel reached across the table.
His fingers closed around hers.
The tattoos on his hand disappeared beneath the simple gold wedding band he now wore every day.
Nora looked toward the windows.
Rain covered Manhattan in shimmering reflections.
Two years earlier, she had stood alone beneath blue neon lights believing her life was collapsing.
She had asked an empty room for a fake fiancé.
Instead, the most dangerous man in the city had walked downstairs.
Gabriel lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.
“Any regrets, Mrs. Moretti?”
Nora pretended to consider it.
“One.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“The first ring you gave me was too expensive.”
Gabriel looked at the diamond on her finger.
“You're still wearing it.”
“That isn't the point.”
“It usually is.”
Nora laughed.
Downstairs, the band began another song.
Upstairs, Gabriel Moretti—the man half the city feared—sat quietly holding his wife's hand.
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Their marriage had begun as a lie designed to save two collapsing lives.
Somewhere along the way, it became the only part neither of them wanted to fake.
