Chapter 7 - THE FIRST REAL YES
Our first date happened five months after Zach proposed to me.
Michael chose a Greek restaurant in Astoria.
“Not Italian?” I asked.
“I’m capable of cultural range.”
I laughed.
He looked offended.
Nico sat two tables away pretending to study a menu for ninety minutes.
We ignored him.
For the first twenty minutes, Michael and I discussed nothing dangerous.
Bread.
Architecture.
Brooklyn rents.
Zach’s refusal to wear matching socks.
Then Michael asked:
“What did you want before your father died?”
The question stopped me.
“A bakery.”
“You have one.”
“Now.”
“What did you want besides surviving Regina?”
I thought.
“A home I chose.”
“Work I liked.”
“People who didn’t make me earn the right to stay.”
Michael nodded slowly.
Then I asked:
“What did you want before you became this?”
“This?”
I gestured.
“Michael Moretti.”
“I have always unfortunately been Michael Moretti.”
“You know what I mean.”
He looked down at his glass.
“Architecture.”
I stared.
“You wanted to be an architect?”
“I studied it for two years.”
“What happened?”
“My father got sick.”
Six years earlier.
“He died the following year.”
“And you stayed.”
“Yes.”
Arthur then stepped into the mentor role.
The man Michael trusted to teach him how to keep the family stable.
Five years later, Michael learned Arthur helped kill Elena.
Life had a cruel sense of structure.
“Do you regret staying?”
Michael thought.
“Sometimes.”
“Zach?”
“Never.”
Immediate.
Good.
The trial began seven months after our first meeting.
Arthur Moretti faced federal racketeering, trafficking, conspiracy, and charges tied to Elena’s death.
Tony pleaded guilty first and cooperated.
Caruso testified.
The mechanic testified.
Vincent DeLuca finally returned under federal protection.
Michael saw him outside court.
Five years after Vincent disappeared.
Not eleven.
Five.
That detail mattered because Vincent had vanished days after Elena’s death, afraid Arthur would kill him too.
Michael stared at him.
“You should have told me.”
Vincent nodded.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t get to decide what I could survive.”
“No.”
“I thought you would go after Arthur immediately.”
“I probably would have.”
Vincent looked at him.
“That still didn’t make the choice mine.”
Michael was quiet.
Then:
“No.”
Not forgiveness.
Understanding.
Arthur was convicted.
Tony received a long federal sentence.
Caruso lost his medical license and served time under his cooperation agreement.
The mechanic pleaded guilty.
Regina entered treatment and began making restitution from whatever assets could legally be recovered.
I saw her once.
At sentencing.
She looked smaller.
“Aurora.”
I stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
I believed she meant it.
That did not undo anything.
“Stay in treatment.”
Her eyes filled.
“That’s all?”
“That’s what I can give you.”
She nodded.
Enough.
By then, Michael and I had been dating three months.
Slowly.
He had kissed me exactly once.
On the front steps of Bellarosa.
After asking.
Zach saw from the upstairs window.
Naturally.
The curtain disappeared so quickly we both laughed.
Then Zach shouted through the glass:
“ARE YOU GETTING MARRIED?”
Michael closed his eyes.
I leaned into his shoulder laughing.
Our relationship was not easy.
Michael had spent most of his adult life giving instructions people followed.
I had spent two years running from people making decisions about my life.
That combination caused arguments.
Once, he assigned extra security to my bakery without telling me.
I found three men outside.
I exploded.
He defended it for thirty seconds.
Then stopped.
“You’re right.”
That surprised me.
“I should have asked.”
“Yes.”
“Do you want all of them gone?”
“One stays until Arthur’s sentencing.”
“Two.”
“One.”
He sighed.
“One.”
Another time, I disappeared into work for two days before opening the Queens bakery.
He finally said:
“You don’t have to run physically to disappear.”
That hurt.
Because he was right.
We learned.
Zach learned too.
On his seventh birthday, nine months after we met, he asked me:
“Are you going to leave Dad?”
Michael nearly dropped the cake knife.
I crouched.
“I don’t know what happens forever.”
Zach looked worried.
“But I’m not disappearing.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Pinky?”
Always.
Michael later thanked me.
“For not promising something you can’t control.”
I looked at him.
“Zach has had enough adults turn forever into a weapon.”
“Yes.”
Then, almost a year after that first storage-room night, Michael closed the bakery with me.
He sat at the counter.
“What?”
I asked.
“I want to change my life.”
My stomach tightened.
“In what way?”
“The illegal side of the Moretti network ends.”
I stared.
“Because Arthur was convicted?”
“Because Elena was right.”
Michael had already begun shutting routes and cash operations implicated in the investigation.
Now he wanted complete separation.
Legitimate import businesses.
Property.
Restaurants.
Security.
Nothing else.
“It will cost you.”
“Yes.”
“People will be angry.”
“Yes.”
“Dangerous people?”
“Some.”
I stared.
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
Honest.
“But I don’t want Zach inheriting a job he can’t refuse.”
There it was.
Freedom.
He wanted it for his son too.
Months later, Michael returned to architecture through a development company focused on restoring old neighborhood buildings.
He still had Moretti power.
Still had security.
Still had men who went quiet when he entered a room.
But the direction changed.
Then, eighteen months after Zach first proposed to me, Michael took me back into the Bellarosa storage room.
Renovated.
Warm.
No flour sacks.
He looked nervous.
I smiled.
“Are you scared?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
He reached into his coat.
I stared.
“Michael.”
“Wait.”
He took out a ring.
Then stopped.
“You’re going to say Zach has to be here.”
I blinked.
“How did you know?”
“I know you.”
That was dangerous.
Ten minutes later, Zach ran downstairs.
He saw the ring.
“FINALLY.”
Michael looked betrayed.
“You knew?”
“Aunt Teresa.”
“Of course.”
Michael looked at his son.
“Zach, I want to ask Aurora something.”
Zach became solemn.
“Is our engagement canceled?”
I laughed.
“If I marry your dad?”
“Yes.”
He thought.
Then nodded.
“I approve.”
Michael sighed.
“This family.”
Then he looked at me.
No crowd.
No bad men outside.
No one chasing me.
“Aurora Bennett.”
“Yes?”
“Will you marry me?”
This time, the answer came from freedom.
“Yes.”
May you like
Zach threw both arms into the air.
“SHE SAID YES AGAIN!”
