“You filed paperwork before kissing me.”
“I manage risk.”
“You made romance sound like an insurance policy.”
“Would you prefer reckless?”
“No.”
“Then stop complaining.”
Their first actual date was a small Italian restaurant.
No Lily.
No work.
No emergency.
For the first twenty minutes, both seemed oddly uncomfortable.
Mark finally said, “We’re terrible at this.”
Victoria laughed.
“I run presentations worth millions of dollars.”
“Apparently dating is more complicated.”
“What do normal people talk about?”
“Not quarterly growth.”
“I had one prepared observation.”
“Victoria.”
She smiled.
“Fine.”
They talked about childhood.
Books.
Mark’s father.
Victoria’s mother.
The places they wanted to travel.
Her fear of airplanes, which Mark found hilarious considering she routinely flew for business.
“I do not fear airplanes.”
“You hold the armrest during turbulence.”
“I respect physics.”
Eventually, normal conversation became easy.
The first kiss happened outside Mark’s apartment.
Victoria had walked him upstairs.
Lily was staying overnight with Mrs. Garcia’s granddaughter.
They stood awkwardly beside the door.
Mark said, “Good night.”
Victoria said, “Good night.”
Neither moved.
Then she kissed him.
Briefly.
Softly.
She immediately stepped back.
“I’m sorry.”
Mark blinked.
“For what?”
“I should have asked.”
“You can ask now.”
Victoria stared at him.
“May I kiss you?”
Mark smiled.
“Yes.”
The second kiss lasted longer.
Six months after that Friday night at the Velvet Lounge, Mark and Victoria sat together on a park bench while Lily chased butterflies through a field.
Late spring had turned Chicago bright green.
Children shouted around the playground.
Dogs chased tennis balls.
Victoria had removed her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her.
A year earlier, Mark would have considered that physically impossible.
“Do you ever think about it?” Victoria asked.
“What?”
“That night.”
“Sometimes.”
“What if you hadn’t answered?”
Mark looked toward Lily.
She had made friends with another girl and was showing her how to weave flowers into a tiny crown.
“My father used to say important moments rarely announce themselves.”
Victoria smiled.
“He sounds wise.”
“He also thought microwave ovens were suspicious.”
“Less wise.”
“He would’ve liked you.”
“Really?”
“Eventually.”
Victoria raised an eyebrow.
“Eventually?”
“Once you stopped being the Dragon Lady.”
She shoved his shoulder.
Mark laughed.
“I’m not convinced I’ve completely lost the scales.”
“No.”
He studied her.
“But they’re more glitter now than armor.”
Victoria smiled.
Then became quiet.
She looked toward Lily.
“I talked to my mother last night.”
Mark did not laugh.
He knew what she meant.
Victoria sometimes sat beside Eleanor’s photograph and spoke aloud.
“What did you tell her?”
“That I’m scared.”
Mark waited.
Victoria turned toward him.
“I think I’m ready to stop being scared.”
His pulse changed.
“Of what?”
She gave him a look.
“You know.”
“Maybe I want you to say it.”
Victoria breathed slowly.
“I spent most of my life believing needing someone gave them the ability to destroy you.”
“My mother was the only person I completely trusted.”
“Then she died.”
“So I decided not needing people was safer.”
Mark reached for her hand.
Victoria continued.
“But watching you and Lily…”
Her voice softened.
“You love her so completely.”
“And somehow that makes you stronger.”
“Not weaker.”
“I kept thinking attachment was the danger.”
“It isn’t.”
“Loss hurts because love mattered.”
Mark squeezed her fingers.
“Victoria.”
“Let me finish.”
He smiled.
“Of course.”
She wiped one tear.
“I know what happened between us began in the worst possible way.”
“I treated you terribly.”
“You helped me anyway.”
“And yes, I changed because I was ashamed.”
“But I stayed changed because I started remembering who I wanted to be.”
She looked toward Lily.
“And somewhere along the way, I fell in love with both of you.”
Mark’s chest tightened.
Lily’s laughter floated across the grass.
Victoria looked terrified.
For once, Mark was the person with more confidence.
He leaned closer.
“I have a question.”
“What?”
“Would you consider being part of our story for more than one chapter?”
Victoria stared.
Then laughed through tears.
“That is incredibly corny.”
“I write children’s books.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“Is that a yes?”
She leaned toward him.
“Yes.”
Their kiss beneath the spring trees felt less like the beginning of something new than an acknowledgment of something that had already been growing for months.
A year after the night at Velvet Lounge, Mark stood inside Victoria’s penthouse.
Except it no longer looked like Victoria’s old penthouse.
The marble was still there.
The expensive furniture remained.
But Lily’s artwork now covered one wall near the kitchen.
A stack of schoolbooks sat on the dining table.
A purple stuffed dragon occupied one corner of the sofa.
There were photographs everywhere.
Victoria and Lily at the zoo.
Mark holding two melted ice cream cones.
The three of them at Christmas.
Eleanor’s photograph remained on the refrigerator.
Beside it was one of Lily wearing a paper crown.
The apartment had become a home.
From the kitchen came Victoria’s voice.
“Mark.”
He stayed in the doorway.
“Mark Reynolds.”
“What?”
“Are you planning to stand there uselessly all evening?”
He walked toward the kitchen.
Victoria wore an apron and looked deeply suspicious of the lasagna in front of her.
Lily stood on a stool adding cheese.
Too much cheese.
Way too much cheese.
“Lily.”
She froze.
“What?”
“That’s enough.”
Victoria looked at the pan.
“I think we passed enough twenty minutes ago.”
“You said sprinkle.”
“I underestimated your commitment.”
Mark kissed Lily’s forehead.
Then Victoria.
“How bad is it?”
“My mother’s recipe was clearer in her handwriting than in execution.”
Mark looked at the sauce.
“Why is it orange?”
“I don’t know.”
“Promising.”
Victoria elbowed him.
Dinner was surprisingly edible.
Later, after Lily went to bed, Victoria and Mark sat on the balcony overlooking the river.
October air had returned.
The same season.
A completely different life.
Victoria disappeared inside.
When she returned, she carried a wrapped package.
“What’s that?”
“For you.”
“It’s not my birthday.”
“Open it.”
Mark removed the paper.
Inside was an old children’s book.
He froze.
The Adventures of Timothy Bear.
First edition.
His father had read it to him hundreds of times when he was a child.
Mark had mentioned it once.
Months earlier.
“How did you find this?”
Victoria smiled.
“I have resources.”
“This must have cost—”
“Read inside.”
Mark opened the cover.
Victoria’s handwriting filled the first page.
To Mark and Lily,
Some people save others without realizing that, somewhere along the way, they are saving themselves too.
Thank you for giving me a second chance when I had done nothing to deserve one.
Thank you for teaching me that love does not make a person weak.
It gives them something worth becoming better for.
Whatever chapters come next, I hope you will let me keep reading beside you.
All my love,
Victoria
Mark swallowed hard.
Then he noticed something beneath the book.
A small velvet box.
His heart stopped.
He looked up.
Victoria’s composure vanished.
“I have rehearsed this fifteen times.”
Mark stared.
“You rehearsed?”
“Yes.”
“That somehow makes me feel better.”
“It shouldn’t.”