Chapter 7 - The Last Broken Thing
One year later, Harbor Logistics had doubled its workforce.
No unmarked midnight shipments.
No forged manifests.
No shell companies.
Roman had transformed the business into what Luca had wanted it to become.
Legitimate.
Stable.
Boring.
Roman complained constantly about the last part.
“This meeting lasted three hours.”
Sadie looked up from her desk.
“That’s called business.”
“Nobody threatened anyone.”
“That’s generally considered positive.”
“I miss excitement.”
“You have quarterly taxes Monday.”
Roman grimaced.
“You’re cruel.”
Sadie laughed.
She no longer worked sixty-hour weeks.
Emily was finishing college.
The medical bills were gone.
And Sadie had eventually moved out of the apartment with the dripping faucet.
Not into Roman’s house.
Not immediately.
She had made him wait eight months.
Roman claimed those were the longest eight months of his life.
Sadie claimed that was dramatic nonsense.
Both were probably true.
On a Friday evening, Roman told her they had a business dinner.
The moment Sadie saw Toscano’s, she became suspicious.
“Roman.”
“What?”
“Why are we here?”
“Food.”
“You hate their risotto.”
“I’ve matured.”
“You complained about it last month.”
Roman opened the door.
The restaurant was empty.
Except it wasn’t.
David stood beside the bar.
Tom was there.
Carmine.
Emily.
Harbor employees.
Even several of the drivers Sadie had once chased for missing paperwork.
Sadie stopped.
“Oh, no.”
Roman looked offended.
“That isn’t the response I hoped for.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing yet.”
He guided her toward the center of the dining room.
The same rug.
The same restored painting.
And beside it—
A chair.
Sadie stared.
“Is that…”
“A replica.”
“Of the chair you destroyed?”
Roman nodded.
“I had one made.”
“That is the stupidest romantic gesture I have ever seen.”
“I know.”
Then Roman reached into his jacket.
Sadie’s eyes widened.
“Roman.”
He lowered himself onto one knee.
The entire room went silent.
Sadie covered her mouth.
Roman looked up at her.
“When you met me, I thought strength meant making everyone afraid.”
His voice was steady.
“You taught me something different.”
Sadie’s eyes filled.
“You told me when I was wrong.”
A few Harbor employees laughed.
“You made me fix what I broke.”
More laughter.
“You stood beside me when I learned the truth about Luca.”
Roman glanced briefly toward Carmine.
“And when I finally decided to build something instead of destroying things, you built it with me.”
He opened the box.
A simple diamond ring rested inside.
“Sadie Jenkins, I have exactly one question.”
She wiped her eyes.
Roman smiled.
“Would you please spend the rest of your life telling me when I’m being an idiot?”
Sadie laughed through her tears.
“That’s your proposal?”
“I had a longer one.”
“Thank God you shortened it.”
Everyone laughed.
Roman waited.
Sadie looked at him.
At Carmine.
At Emily.
At the restaurant where everything had started.
Then she held out her hand.
“Yes.”
Roman’s expression changed instantly.
“Yeah?”
“Yes, Roman.”
He slipped the ring onto her finger and stood.
Sadie wrapped her arms around him.
The restaurant erupted in applause.
Carmine quietly turned away and wiped his eyes.
Roman noticed.
“Are you crying?”
Carmine glared at him.
“Absolutely not.”
Sadie laughed.
Then Roman kissed her.
Several minutes later, David walked toward the restored chair.
“So what happens to this?”
Roman looked at Sadie.
She considered it.
“Put it in Harbor’s office.”
Roman groaned.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Sadie.”
“We’ll put a plaque on it.”
“What will the plaque say?”
Sadie smiled.
“DON’T BREAK WHAT YOU CAN FIX.”
Roman stared at her.
Then laughed.
“Fine.”
Months later, the chair sat inside Harbor Logistics beneath Luca’s photograph.
The plaque beneath it contained Sadie’s words.
But Roman added another line without telling her.
She discovered it one morning while walking into work.
Beneath DON’T BREAK WHAT YOU CAN FIX, Roman had engraved:
AND WHEN YOU CAN’T FIX IT ALONE, LET SOMEONE HELP YOU.
Sadie found Roman downstairs.
He was arguing with a driver over a late manifest.
She walked directly toward him.
Roman noticed her expression.
“What?”
“You changed the plaque.”
“I improved it.”
“You got sentimental.”
“I absolutely did not.”
Sadie wrapped her arms around his neck.
Roman smiled.
“Careful. People are watching.”
“Let them.”
He kissed her forehead.
A year earlier, Sadie had found Roman Costa standing in the middle of a destroyed restaurant, covered in someone else’s blood and convinced that everything he touched eventually broke.
She hadn’t saved him.
Roman had ultimately done that himself.
May you like
She had simply been the first person brave enough to hand him a towel, look him directly in the eye, and expect something better from him.
And Roman had spent the rest of his life proving that she had been right.
