Coffee Without a Uniform

Chapter 13 - Coffee Without a Uniform

Luca was early.

Of course he was.

Men who ran criminal enterprises apparently respected coffee appointments better than federal law.

I found him by the window wearing a dark sweater instead of a suit.

No tie.

No visible guard.

Gray beginning at his temples.

He stood when I approached.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

We sat.

For five minutes we discussed coffee as if neither of us had watched a wedding collapse over a child’s crayon drawing.

It was wonderful.

“How’s the hotel?” he asked.

“Busy.”

“Promotion?”

“You read LinkedIn?”

His mouth almost moved.

“Oliver told me.”

“Of course.”

“He is now my primary intelligence source.”

“Terrifying.”

We smiled.

Then silence.

Not bad.

Just new.

“How are you?” I asked.

Luca thought before answering.

“Strange.”

“Useful word.”

“I don’t have men calling every hour.”

“Good.”

“It feels wrong.”

“Also good.”

He laughed softly.

“Prison improved your empathy.”

“No. It improved my appreciation for boredom.”

That I understood.

He told me he still owned restaurants.

A minority stake in the hotel group, after Oliver’s trust received Julian’s shares.

One legitimate construction company under outside compliance.

No collection unit.

No private enforcement.

No clubs with back rooms.

“Do you miss it?” I asked.

“The power?”

“Yes.”

He took too long.

“Sometimes.”

Better than no.

“What do you miss?”

“Not asking permission.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“That sounds healthy.”

“It isn’t.”

“No.”

He looked out the window.

“I thought being feared meant fewer problems.”

“Did it?”

“For me.”

There.

“Not for everyone else.”

“No.”

I drank my coffee.

He continued.

“My therapist says control is efficient until you count everyone who has to live underneath it.”

“That sounds expensive.”

“Very.”

We smiled again.

Then Luca became serious.

“I owe you an apology.”

“My wrist healed.”

“Not only that.”

I waited.

“You told me at the mansion not to make you carry what I felt.”

“Yes.”

“I did anyway.”

I frowned.

“How?”

“By asking whether you would stay.”

I remembered.

The staff kitchen.

My hospital papers.

The way the room changed.

“I put you in a position where refusing me could feel dangerous even if I had no intention of punishing you.”

My chest tightened.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.”

No explanation.

Good.

“I accepted.”

“Accepted?”

“The apology.”

His face softened.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t make it ceremonial.”

He laughed.

“Right.”

Then:

“I want to see you again.”

I looked at him.

“Why?”

He blinked.

“What?”

“Why?”

Luca actually looked nervous.

That helped.

“Because I like you.”

“Specific.”

“You’re difficult.”

“Terrible start.”

“You’re funny when you don’t mean to be.”

“I always mean to be.”

“You care about people without pretending that makes them innocent.”

I stopped.

“That was better.”

He nodded.

“And you make me say what I mean.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It is.”

I smiled.

“Coffee again.”

“Dinner?”

“No.”

He looked disappointed.

“Why?”

“I want slow.”

He nodded immediately.

“Slow.”

Good.

Our second coffee became a walk along the lake.

The third became lunch.

Then nothing for two weeks because my hotel had a conference that apparently required six hundred people to request extra towels simultaneously.

Luca did not send food.

Or a car.

Or someone to “help.”

He texted:

SURVIVING?

I replied:

BARELY. TOWELS HAVE WON.

He wrote:

I HAVE CONNECTIONS.

I stared.

Then another message.

JOKE.

I laughed so loudly Denise looked at me.

“Coffee man?”

“Yes.”

“Improving?”

“Marginally.”

“Best kind.”

Oliver entered our lives carefully.

Not as glue.

Rosalie invited me to a school science fair.

Luca happened to be there too.

That was the first time I saw him with his nephew after prison.

Oliver was explaining a volcano made from papier-mâché.

“It’s not supposed to explode until I put this in.”

Luca looked suspiciously at the baking soda.

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

Correct answer.

Vanessa arrived ten minutes later.

Oliver looked toward her.

No running.

No rejection.

Just:

“Mom, come see.”

Mom.

Vanessa’s eyes filled.

She walked over.

Rosalie remained nearby.

No competition.

The family court had expanded Vanessa’s visits.

One overnight per month.

Then two.

Custody still with Rosalie.

Vanessa stopped asking when that would change.

That, according to Rosalie, helped more than anything.

One summer Oliver stayed with Vanessa for a full week.

On the fourth night he called Rosalie and asked to come home.

Vanessa drove him herself.

No guilt.

No tears in front of him.

No reminder that she was his mother.

She carried his bag to the porch and said:

“I love you. I’ll see you Saturday.”

Later she cried in her car for an hour.

Rosalie knew because she watched from the window.

Vanessa still did not go back inside.

That was the difference.

For years she had treated love as something she needed Oliver to prove by staying.

Now she could let him leave without turning departure into rejection.

At the science fair, Oliver’s volcano overflowed onto Luca’s shoes.

I laughed.

Vanessa did too.

For one strange second, all four adults stood around a child and nothing was hidden.

Then Oliver looked at me.

“Emma.”

“Yes?”

“Uncle Luca likes you.”

Luca nearly choked.

Vanessa covered her mouth.

Rosalie walked away, shoulders shaking.

“Oliver,” Luca said.

“What?”

“Some thoughts can stay thoughts.”

“Why?”

Excellent question.

I crouched.

“Because adults are cowards.”

Luca stared.

Vanessa laughed harder.

Oliver frowned.

“That’s weird.”

“Yes.”

He returned to his volcano.

Later Luca walked me to the parking lot.

No driver waiting.

He had driven himself.

A normal black SUV still looked sinister on him.

“I’m sorry.”

“For Oliver?”

“Yes.”

“He’s eight.”

“I know.”

“He was accurate.”

Luca stopped.

I kept walking.

“Emma.”

I turned.

“Yes?”

“You can’t say that and keep walking.”

“Apparently I can.”

He smiled.

Then:

“Can I kiss you?”

There.

Not take.

Ask.

I looked at him.

I had imagined this once in the mansion and hated myself for it.

That version had been wrong.

Maid.

Boss.

Investigation.

Power everywhere.

This was different.

Not equal in money.

Never would be.

But free enough to say no.

“Yes.”

The kiss was quiet.

No orchestra.

No rain.

No danger.

When it ended, Luca looked almost surprised.

“Again?”

I laughed.

“Do not get greedy.”

He smiled.

I drove home in my own car.

Not a gift.

A used Honda I bought after the promotion.

At a red light, I looked in the mirror and realized something.

For the first time, being close to Luca had not made my life smaller.

That was the standard now.

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Not whether he could protect me.

Whether there was still room for me to remain myself.