Chapter 6 - The Empty Chair on Thursday
Months passed.
Elena continued working at Osteria della Luna.
That had been her decision.
Ronan disliked it.
That was his problem.
One Thursday evening, Marco approached her.
“He’s here.”
“I know.”
“You always know.”
Elena picked up Ronan’s wine.
Marco glanced nervously at the glass.
“Please use a tray.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“It’s tradition.”
She carried the glass into the private dining room.
Ronan sat at his usual table.
But something was different.
There were two place settings.
Elena put down the wine.
“Expecting someone?”
“Yes.”
“Important?”
“Very.”
She looked toward the empty chair.
“Should I be jealous?”
“No.”
Ronan pulled out the chair.
“Sit.”
Elena narrowed her eyes.
“Was that an order?”
He immediately corrected himself.
“Would you sit with me?”
“Better.”
She sat.
Ronan looked toward the photograph he had brought with him.
Matteo.
Elena’s expression softened.
“You brought him.”
“Yes.”
Ronan placed the photograph between them.
“I spent three years coming here because Thursday belonged to Matteo.”
Elena listened.
“I thought changing the ritual meant leaving him behind.”
“And now?”
“Now I think grief and life can occupy the same table.”
Elena reached across and took his hand.
Ronan looked toward Marco.
“Bring dinner.”
Marco nodded.
Then Ronan added, “Whatever Elena chooses.”
She laughed.
“You’re still trusting me with food?”
“Against my better judgment.”
They ate.
They talked.
Ronan told stories about Matteo that Elena had never heard.
The boy had hated formal clothes.
Loved terrible American action movies.
Once stolen Ronan’s car at fourteen and driven it approximately fifty feet before crashing into a fountain.
Elena laughed so hard she nearly spilled her wine.
Ronan caught the glass.
They both froze.
Then Elena looked at him.
“You know what would make this perfect?”
“No.”
She deliberately tipped one tiny drop onto the tablecloth.
Ronan stared at it.
Elena smiled.
“Tradition.”
Ronan laughed.
Marco watched from the archway.
This time, he smiled too.
Later, outside the restaurant, Ronan stopped beside his car.
“Elena.”
“Yes?”
“I bought something.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“That sentence is dangerous coming from you.”
He handed her a small envelope.
She opened it.
Inside was a key.
Elena stared.
“A house?”
“No.”
“My apartment?”
“No.”
“What?”
“A restaurant.”
She looked up sharply.
“Ronan.”
“Before you become angry, I did not buy it for you.”
“Excellent opening.”
“I purchased the empty property beside Osteria della Luna.”
“Why?”
“Marco told me you want your own place someday.”
Elena’s expression hardened.
“You said you wouldn’t make decisions for me.”
“I didn’t.”
He took the key back.
“The property belongs to me.”
She frowned.
“And?”
“If you want it, you can rent it from me at the market rate.”
Elena blinked.
“No gift?”
“No.”
“No secret ownership transfer?”
“No.”
“No guards disguised as bartenders?”
Ronan hesitated.
“Ronan.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“You really are learning.”
“Painfully.”
Elena took the key.
“I’ll look at it.”
“That is all I am asking.”
She kissed him.
And for once, Ronan did not mistake her kiss for a promise he owned.
May you like
It was simply something she had chosen to give him.
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