Chapter 7 - A Different Kind of Delivery
One year later, at 9:31 on another rainy Tuesday night, I stood in the same Lake Forest ballroom.
But nobody was kneeling.
The room had been transformed for a charity event benefiting families struggling with kidney disease and long-term dialysis costs.
Mom stood near the stage wearing blue and arguing with Marco about whether she could steal another dessert.
“You've had three,” Marco said.
“I survived kidney failure.”
“That doesn't make calories imaginary.”
“It should.”
I laughed.
A year had changed everything.
Mom's transplant remained successful.
I had finished my first two semesters back in college.
Dad's case had officially been reclassified as homicide, and Richard Whitmore was awaiting trial alongside several corrupt officials exposed by the files.
Vanessa had accepted a plea agreement for her role in the intimidation campaign.
And Dominic?
Dominic was still Dominic.
Dangerous reputation.
Controlled voice.
A man who could silence an entire room by entering it.
But I knew the version nobody else saw.
The man who hated hospital coffee.
Who secretly watched cooking shows.
Who had absolutely no idea how to fold fitted sheets.
And who had never once asked me to become smaller so he could feel bigger.
He walked toward me.
“You're staring.”
“Thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
I smiled.
“Remember the first time I stood here?”
“Yes.”
“You thought I was insane.”
“No.”
“What did you think?”
Dominic looked toward the marble floor.
“I thought I'd spent my entire life surrounded by powerful people.”
Then he looked at me.
“And suddenly realized most of them weren't powerful at all.”
Before I could answer, Mom tapped a microphone.
“Attention!”
I closed my eyes.
“Oh God.”
Dominic whispered, “Should we run?”
“Too late.”
Mom smiled from the stage.
“One year ago, my daughter was delivering dinner because she refused to let medical bills destroy our family.”
The room quieted.
“Tonight, this foundation has funded treatment assistance for forty-three families.”
Applause filled the ballroom.
My throat tightened.
Mom continued.
“Avery spent years believing survival meant doing everything alone.”
She looked directly at me.
“She was wrong.”
Dominic took my hand.
Mom smiled.
“Family isn't always who you're born with. Sometimes it's who refuses to leave when life gets ugly.”
More applause.
I wiped my eyes.
“She's never getting another microphone.”
Dominic nodded.
“Agreed.”
Then he reached into his pocket.
I immediately stepped backward.
“Dominic.”
“What?”
“Don't you dare propose in front of sixty people.”
His expression became offended.
“I wasn't going to.”
“You're holding a ring box.”
He looked at it.
“Fair evidence.”
People nearby began noticing.
“Dominic.”
He smiled.
“Relax.”
He didn't kneel.
Instead, he opened the box while standing directly in front of me.
Inside was a simple diamond ring.
“I know what happened the last time someone forced you onto your knees in this room.”
His voice softened.
“So neither of us is kneeling tonight.”
The ballroom became completely silent.
Dominic took my hand.
“Avery Carter, you walked into my life carrying somebody else's dinner and somehow rearranged everything.”
I laughed through tears.
“That is terrible.”
“I practiced.”
“You need more practice.”
“Probably.”
He smiled.
“Marry me anyway.”
I looked toward Mom.
She was already crying.
Marco gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
I looked back at Dominic.
“Only under one condition.”
His expression became cautious.
“What?”
“If we have cake at the wedding, nobody makes the delivery driver clean it off the floor.”
Laughter broke through the ballroom.
Dominic smiled.
“Deal.”
“Then yes.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger.
The room erupted.
Dominic kissed me.
And standing there beneath those chandeliers, I remembered the woman I'd been exactly one year earlier.
Exhausted.
Broke.
Terrified of losing my mother.
Willing to tolerate almost anything because I thought survival required swallowing my pride.
I had been wrong about that too.
Dad once taught me that martial arts wasn't about knowing how to hurt someone.
It was about knowing when not to let someone hurt you.
It had taken me eight years to understand him.
Mom walked over and hugged us both.
“You know,” she said, “technically, I introduced you.”
I stared at her.
“How?”
“If I hadn't gotten sick, Avery wouldn't have become a delivery driver.”
Dominic frowned.
“That may be the darkest matchmaking argument I've ever heard.”
Mom shrugged.
“Still worked.”
I laughed.
Outside, rain covered Lake Forest.
Inside, music started.
Dominic held out his hand.
“Dance?”
“I should warn you.”
“What?”
“My footwork is better when I'm kicking people.”
“I've seen the evidence.”
I took his hand anyway.
A year earlier, I'd entered that mansion carrying food I couldn't afford to eat.
I left believing Dominic Moretti was the most dangerous person I'd ever met.
I was wrong about that too.
The most dangerous person in that mansion had been a frightened woman who finally remembered she didn't have to stay on her knees.
May you like
Her name was Avery Carter.
And she was finally going home.
