“No to you offering me a version of yourself cut down into something smaller just so I can feel safer saying yes.”
I said nothing.
“Do you really think that would fix what happened?” she asked. “That I could respect you more because you amputated your life and handed me the severed bit as proof of devotion?”
That was…vivid.
Also not unfair.
“Emily—”
She shook her head. “I’m angry because you took my choice away, Pietro, not because you’re sotto capo. I am angry becauseyou decided for me what I could live with, then came to my apartment prepared to offer me love only on the condition that it fit your understanding.”
I swallowed and let her continue.
“If you step down, it has to be because it is the right life for you, not because you think I need a cleaner version of you to be able to love you.” She leaned back slightly, eyes never leaving mine. “I don’t want a man who reshapes himself every time fear shows up. I want a man who knows who he is and tells me the truth of it, even when it’s ugly.”
God, I loved her.
“And that,” she added more softly, “is why the answer is no.”
“You don’t want me to step down?”
“I don’t want you to offer it like that.”
I let out a slow breath. “That is an important distinction.”
“It is.”
I nodded once. “I’m trying to learn the language of you.”
The corner of her mouth moved despite herself. Barely. But I saw it.
“You are not fluent yet,” she said.
“No,” I admitted. “But I am deeply motivated.”
That earned me a proper exhale that might once have become a laugh if things between us were not so fragile.
I reached into my coat pocket and slid my phone across the table toward her. “Before you dismiss me entirely, Sophie’s cane.”
She looked down despite herself.
The photos filled the screen one after another: black lacquered wood, silver detailing along the shaft, the handle elegant without being too delicate, the whole thing striking enough that even I had to admit it was excellent work. There was also, tucked in one image, the optional set of tiny silver star decals Sophie had insisted on “for emotional drama.”
Emily’s whole face changed. The hardness around her mouth eased, and something warmer, more unguarded slipped through before she caught it.
“Oh,” she said quietly. “That’s perfect for her.”
“I know.”
She glanced up. “Don’t ruin this moment by being smug.”
“Too late.”
She shook her head, but there was affection threaded through the gesture now, and that alone felt like more than I deserved.
“She’ll lose her mind over the stars,” she said.
