Chapter 14
Luca took a sip of his juice, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. It was thick, postmarked from San Diego, California.
He didn't open it. He just held it on his knee, looking down at the neat, looping handwriting on the front: To Dad.
Nina set her bottle down and touched the edge of the paper.
“She wrote back?”
“Yesterday,” Luca said. His voice was quiet, but it was the quiet of deep water, not an empty tomb. “She said her middle school track team made the regional finals. She wants to know if I can come see her run in June. Her mother said… her mother said it’s safe now. The papers confirmed that the Moretti family operations have been entirely restructured into legitimate logistics and maritime freight trusts. The U.S. Attorney closed the active file last month.”
A tear tracked down Nina’s cheek behind her sunglasses. She reached up, pulled the glasses off, and looked at him.
“Are you going?” she asked.
Luca looked away from the envelope, turning his head to look at her.
The shadow that had defined him for six long years was gone. The coldness that had frozen his jaw, the vigilance that had turned every room into a bunker, the solitary grief that had turned his car into a hearse—all of it had melted beneath the stubborn, unyielding light of a woman who had refused to let him hide behind his own myth.
He reached out, his warm, strong fingers closing gently around hers.
“Only if you come with me,” Luca said.
Nina smiled. A bright, dazzling, beautiful smile that rivalled the spring sunshine reflecting off the water.
“I don't know, Moretti,” she teased, leaning her head against his shoulder. “San Diego is far. The flight is four hours. What if they don't have good bagels on the plane?”
Luca laughed—a rich, full, joyous sound that carried over the harbor, scaring three seagulls off the pier and turning the heads of two elderly ladies walking their poodle.
He brought her hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles that had saved his life, and held her close as the morning tide rolled gently against the Chicago shore.
“I’ll buy the bakery, Nurse Kowalski,” he whispered against her hair. “Whatever you need. For the rest of the ride.”