Chapter 9
The ring was beautiful.
Simple.
Nothing like the enormous stone he had once chosen for Vanessa.
“I don't need you to rescue me,” he said. “And I don't want to rescue you. I want to build a life with you where neither of us has to become smaller for the other.”
Emily's eyes filled.
“That's annoyingly good.”
“I practiced.”
“How long?”
“Three weeks.”
“That explains it.”
“Emily.”
She laughed through her tears.
“Yes.”
Adrian blinked.
“I haven't asked yet.”
“You were taking too long.”
He smiled.
Then he asked anyway.
“Emily Carter, will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
Two years after Adrian fled the most expensive wedding in Boston history, he married Emily in the courtyard behind the first Mercer Community Table.
Forty-two people attended.
There were no reporters.
No corporate executives invited out of obligation.
No imported orchids.
Emily wore a simple ivory dress.
Adrian wore the same watch he had worn the night they met.
His mother cried.
His father attended quietly and, to Adrian's surprise, spent most of the reception speaking with volunteers.
Vanessa sent a card.
It contained only one sentence.
*Maybe we both escaped.*
Adrian kept it.
Late that evening, after the guests had gone, Emily and Adrian sat together on the kitchen steps.
Inside, volunteers packed leftover food into containers for the next morning.
Emily rested her head against his shoulder.
“Do you ever think about that wedding?”
“Sometimes.”
“Regret leaving?”
Adrian looked through the open doorway.
A volunteer was labeling containers of soup.
Another was stacking bread.
On the wall hung a small sign Emily had chosen for every Community Table location.
TAKE WHAT YOU NEED.
GIVE WHAT YOU CAN.
NO QUESTIONS ASKED.
Adrian smiled.
“I regret how I left.”
He took Emily's hand.
“But not where I ended up.”
She squeezed his fingers.
Across the street, a man in an old coat stood beneath an awning.
Adrian noticed him staring through the windows at the food.
Without saying anything, Adrian stood.
Emily understood immediately.
She packed soup, bread, and a sandwich into a paper bag.
Then she handed it to her husband.
Adrian crossed the street.
The stranger stepped backward when he approached.
Adrian held out the bag.
“Are you hungry?”
The man looked embarrassed.
After a moment, he nodded.
“Yes.”
Adrian smiled.
“Then this is yours.”
The stranger took it.
“Why?”
Adrian looked back across the street.
Emily stood beneath the warm light of the doorway, watching him.