Nicholas knew he had hurt her.
Maggie knew affection alone could not repair the damage.
So they began doing something that seemed almost old-fashioned in a city obsessed with moving quickly.
They took their time.
Nicholas learned to speak about uncomfortable matters before Maggie had to ask.
He told her when work was difficult.
When his father disappointed him.
When he was afraid.
Maggie learned to admit when she needed help without believing that accepting it made her weak.
She allowed Nicholas to support her emotionally while keeping professional decisions independent.
And slowly, the easy warmth between them returned.
One Sunday afternoon in March, they visited Louis Bennett in Queens.
Nicholas arrived carrying a bottle of wine and a box of pastries.
Louis examined him from head to foot.
“So.”
Nicholas stood beside the kitchen table.
“Sir.”
“You're the fellow who nearly demolished my theater.”
Nicholas swallowed.
“Yes, sir.”
“And you're the fellow who made my daughter cry.”
A terrible silence followed.
Maggie closed her eyes.
“Dad.”
Nicholas looked directly at Louis.
“Yes, sir.”
Louis studied him.
Then nodded.
“Good.”
Nicholas blinked.
“Good?”
“You didn't argue.”
The older man gestured toward a chair.
“Sit down.”
Nicholas obeyed.
Louis poured coffee.
Then leaned forward.
“You know what I used to do for a living?”
“Projectionist.”
“Thirty-two years.”
“Yes, sir.”
Louis nodded.
“Do you know what happens when a film breaks during a screening?”
Nicholas hesitated.
“The picture stops?”
“Exactly.”
The older man smiled faintly.
“People complain. They whistle. They get angry.”
Nicholas listened.
“But a good projectionist doesn't stand there explaining why the film broke.”
Louis leaned closer.
“He fixes it.”
Nicholas looked at him.
Then nodded.
“I understand.”
Louis considered.
“Do you?”
“Yes, sir.”
The older man sat back.
“Good.”
Then he pushed the pastry box toward Nicholas.
“Have a cannoli.”
Maggie burst into laughter.
Nicholas looked at her.
She smiled.
And for the first time since their argument, he felt that something between them had truly begun to heal.
Their first proper date took place on a warm Saturday evening in June.
Nicholas arrived outside Maggie's apartment driving an old cream-colored Mercedes convertible.
She stood on the sidewalk wearing a white summer dress, a cropped denim jacket, and red earrings Tessa had made for her.
Nicholas stepped out.
He stopped when he saw her.
Maggie smiled.
“What?”