Chapter 13 - The First Date Luca Moretti Didn't Know How to Plan|
I'd seen Luca Moretti negotiate with powerful businessmen.
I'd watched him speak calmly while an entire dining room waited for his next word.
I'd seen men twice his age become nervous when he looked at them.
But I'd never seen Luca uncertain.
Not until our first date.
He met me outside a small restaurant near Lincoln Park wearing a black sweater and dark jeans.
His sleeves were rolled up.
The tattoos across his forearms were visible.
And he looked surprisingly uncomfortable.
“Hi.”
I smiled.
“Hi.”
He glanced toward the restaurant.
“I wasn't sure whether you'd prefer somewhere formal.”
I laughed softly.
“After everything that happened at your engagement dinner, I think I've had enough formal dinners for a while.”
He laughed.
A real laugh.
Warm and unguarded.
“Fair point.”
We went inside.
The restaurant was small.
Soft music played near the windows.
There were no chandeliers.
No security officers standing directly behind our chairs.
No woman in a red dress glaring at me from across the table.
Just two people trying to learn what existed between them.
At first, we talked about ordinary things.
Food.
Music.
Chicago weather.
My mother's physical therapy.
The new community program.
Then Luca asked about my childhood.
I told him about growing up in a small house outside the city.
About helping my mother fold laundry when I was little.
About the years she'd worked long hours to make sure I had opportunities she never did.
He listened.
Really listened.
Then he told me about Catherine.
Not in a way that made me feel compared to her.
Not as though he were asking me to replace her.
He spoke about the woman he'd loved.
Her kindness.
Her stubbornness.
Her terrible cooking.
The way she'd insisted every family dinner include something green even when he complained about vegetables.
I smiled.
“She sounds wonderful.”
He nodded.
“She was.”
For a moment, he looked toward the window.
Then whispered, “I thought loving someone again would mean betraying her.”
My chest tightened.
“And now?”
He turned toward me.
“Now I think she'd want Lily and me to be happy.”
I smiled softly.
“I think so too.”
He looked down at his hands.
“I spent three years carrying guilt over things I didn't understand.”
I nodded.
“And now you know the truth.”
“Yes.”
He paused.
“But knowing doesn't erase everything.”
“No.”
I reached across the table.
Stopped just before touching his hand.
“May I?”
He looked up.
Then smiled.
“Of course.”
I gently took his fingers.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then he whispered, “You don't know how much that means.”
I smiled.
“I think I do.”
Our relationship grew slowly.
We didn't rush.
We walked beside Lake Michigan.
Visited bookstores.
Ate dinner at small restaurants.
And spent Sundays with Teresa and Sofia.
Eventually, I met Lily properly.
She was eight years old by then.
Quiet at first.
Curious.
With dark curls and Catherine's bright eyes.
The first time we met, she asked whether I was the woman who had helped Grandma get Sofia back.
I smiled.
“I helped them talk.”
Lily considered that.
Then nodded seriously.
“Grandma says you were brave.”
I laughed softly.
“I was actually very frightened.”
She looked surprised.
“Really?”
“Very.”
She thought about it.
Then smiled.
“Dad says brave people get scared too.”
My throat tightened.
“He's right.”
Over time, Lily and I became friends.
We painted.
Read books.
Made cookies.
And sometimes sat beside Teresa while she told stories about Catherine.
I never tried to become Lily's mother.
She already had one.
A woman whose memory deserved to remain part of her life.
Instead, I became another person who cared about her.
Someone she could trust.
And that was enough.
One afternoon, Sofia invited me to the garden.
She looked unusually serious.
“Hannah.”
I smiled.
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
She hesitated.
“Do you love my brother?”
My face warmed.
I laughed nervously.
“Sofia…”
She smiled.
“That's an answer.”
I looked down.
Then nodded.
“Yes.”
Her expression softened.
“Good.”
I blinked.
“Good?”
She nodded.
“For years, Luca thought being powerful meant never admitting he needed anyone.”
I smiled sadly.
“And now?”
She looked toward the house.
“Now he laughs.”
My eyes filled.
Sofia continued.
“He calls Mom every morning.”
I nodded.
“He does.”
“He asks me how I'm doing instead of letting someone else tell him.”
Her voice softened.
“And he's finally spending real time with Lily.”
I smiled.
Sofia took my hand.
“You didn't force him to change.”
She paused.
“You made him want to.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks.
Then she added something that made my heart stop.
“He's planning something.”
I stared.
“What?”
She grinned.
“Oh, absolutely not.”
“Sofia!”
She laughed.
May you like
“You'll find out soon.”
And three weeks later, beneath the roses Catherine had planted years earlier, I discovered exactly what Luca had been planning.
