Chapter 9 - The Choice Arthur Never Got to Make
Arthur called investigators before leaving the hospital.
Dominic had not escaped.
The figure inside Chloe's diner wasn't Dominic.
It was his identical older cousin, Vincent Romano, a man Arthur hadn't seen since childhood.
Vincent surrendered peacefully when police arrived.
He carried no weapon.
Only a box.
Inside were letters.
Dozens of them.
Dominic had written them over thirty years but never sent them.
Arthur read them days later.
They did not excuse anything.
They revealed something more complicated.
Dominic had spent his life terrified that the Romano empire would collapse.
Fear became control.
Control became cruelty.
And cruelty became crime.
Arthur finally understood something important.
Understanding a person did not require forgiving what they had done.
He gave the letters to investigators where relevant and kept only one.
It had been written on Arthur's seventh birthday.
I know he isn't mine by blood.
But when he called me Dad today, I wished he were.
Arthur cried when he read it.
Then he folded it away.
Not as forgiveness.
As truth.
Chloe reopened Henderson's Diner six weeks after Hope's birth.
Arthur wanted to renovate everything.
Chloe allowed him to replace one broken freezer.
Nothing else.
"This counter has history."
"It has a crack."
"History."
"The plumbing is from 1987."
"Vintage."
"It's leaking."
"Character."
Arthur surrendered.
Vivian became a regular.
So did Victor, although Arthur's relationship with him remained cautious.
They had coffee.
They talked.
Sometimes they sat in silence.
That was enough.
Arthur sold several properties and used part of the legitimate proceeds to establish a fund for people harmed by Dominic's operations.
He didn't announce it publicly.
Chloe found out anyway.
"You did something good without putting your name on it."
"I occasionally develop."
"Slowly."
"Painfully."
Hope grew.
Three months passed.
Then six.
Arthur never pressured Chloe about marriage.
That surprised everyone except Chloe.
She knew why.
He had learned that love without choice was simply another kind of cage.
One evening after the diner closed, Chloe found him repairing a loose table.
"You know we have employees."
"I enjoy being useful."
"You're holding the wrench backward."
Arthur looked at it.
"I was testing you."
"Sure."
Hope slept in a carrier nearby.
Chloe sat across from him.
"Arthur."
He looked up.
"Are you happy?"
The question surprised him.
"Yes."
"Even after everything?"
He thought.
"I'm not happy it happened."
"That's not what I asked."
He looked at Hope.
Then Chloe.
"Yes."
She nodded.
"Me too."
Arthur smiled.
"Good."
Chloe waited.
He went back to the table.
She frowned.
"That's it?"
He looked confused.
"What?"
"I practically opened the door."
"What door?"
"The metaphorical door."
Arthur stared.
Then realization hit.
"Oh."
Chloe laughed.
For a supposedly intimidating man, he could be remarkably hopeless.
Arthur stood.
"Chloe Henderson, are you suggesting—"
"No."
He stopped.
Her expression softened.
"I'm saying I don't want fear making our decisions anymore."
Arthur became serious.
"Neither do I."
"If you ever ask me something important, don't do it because Hope exists. Don't do it because you nearly lost me. Don't do it because you're trying to fix the past."
"I won't."
"Do it because you want the future."
Arthur looked at her for a long time.
"I understand."
She kissed him.
It was their first real kiss since before he'd disappeared.
Arthur didn't rush it.
When they separated, Hope woke and immediately began crying.
Chloe laughed.
"Timing."
"Definitely yours."
"Our daughter."
Arthur picked her up.
A year after the cathedral wedding that never happened, Vivian invited them to a charity gala.
Chloe almost refused.
Then she saw the location.
The cathedral.
"You have got to be kidding me."
Arthur read the invitation.
"Absolutely not."
Chloe smiled.
"We should go."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want that building owning the memory."
Arthur understood.
They went.
Chloe wore dark blue.
Arthur wore black.
Hope wore white and slept through almost everything.
The ceremonial chalice was gone.
The altar had ordinary flowers.
Nothing happened.
No threats.
No secrets.
No one collapsed.
On the way out, Arthur stopped Chloe in the same aisle where he'd caught her.
She noticed.
"Arthur."
He reached into his pocket.
Chloe's eyes widened.
"No."
Arthur froze.
"No?"
"Not here."
He slowly removed his empty hand.
Chloe started laughing.
"You had a ring?"
"Possibly."
"Arthur Romano."
"You said not here."
"I did."
He smiled.
"Then I'll wait."
And he did.
Two weeks later, Chloe came home after closing the diner.
Arthur was cooking pasta.
Badly.
Hope sat in her high chair throwing peas.
There were no flowers.
No cameras.
No cathedral.
No audience.
Chloe looked around.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
"Why are you sweating?"
"The stove is hot."
"Arthur."
He turned off the burner.
Then he reached into his pocket.
Chloe stopped breathing.
Arthur walked toward her.
He didn't kneel yet.
"Before I do anything, I need to say something."
She waited.
"I loved you when I left."
Her eyes filled.
"I loved you when I stood at that altar."
He swallowed.
"And I loved you when you came through those doors carrying our daughter and a warning that saved my life."
Chloe covered her mouth.
"But love wasn't enough because I didn't trust you with your own choices."
Arthur took her hand.
"I do now."
Then he knelt.
"Chloe Henderson, I want the future."
He opened the box.
"Will you choose it with me?"
Chloe was crying.
Hope threw another pea.
Arthur waited.
No assumption.
No pressure.
Chloe smiled.
"Yes."
Arthur closed his eyes.
Relief washed across his face.
Then someone knocked on the apartment door.
Arthur laughed.
"If that's another secret relative, I'm moving."
Chloe opened it.
Vivian stood there.
Her expression was pale.
She held a folder.
"Sorry."
Arthur stood.
"What happened?"
Vivian looked at Chloe.
"You need to see this before you get married."
The happiness drained from the room.
Chloe accepted the folder.
Inside was an old photograph of her mother.
Standing beside Dominic Romano.
On the back was a date.
The year Chloe was born.
May you like
And beneath it, in Dominic's handwriting, were five words:
SHE MUST NEVER KNOW WHY.
