Chapter 10 - Home Before Morning
Thirty months later, Mave stood outside a federal reentry center in a red coat and checked the time every seventeen seconds.
Daniel sat in the passenger seat of her car.
“You’re wearing a path in the sidewalk.”
“I’m fine.”
“You reorganized your glove compartment at six this morning.”
“It needed it.”
“You alphabetized the insurance documents.”
“Organization saves lives.”
Daniel smiled.
The past two and a half years had changed both of them.
He had moved back to New York.
Not into Mave’s apartment.
They loved each other enough to know that would have been a terrible idea.
Instead, he rented a small place in Queens and joined Sullivan Trace, the forensic logistics firm Mave founded with Felix.
Their first office had two desks and a coffee machine that leaked.
Now they employed eleven people.
They traced stolen charity funds, shipping fraud, wage theft, and trafficking routes for nonprofits and law firms.
No guns.
No midnight warehouse transfers.
No Costa money.
Mave had never been prouder of anything.
Leo worked for a legitimate freight company in New Jersey after serving his own sentence.
Marco opened a private security firm.
William Donovan received decades in federal prison.
Raymond Hale was convicted on conspiracy, bribery, obstruction, and trafficking-related charges.
The Costa criminal organization did not survive.
Costa Holdings did.
A court-appointed board sold several businesses and restructured the rest.
Vincent surrendered control permanently.
Mave had visited him twice a month.
Not every visit was romantic.
Some were awkward.
Some angry.
Some quiet.
They learned how to talk without danger doing the talking for them.
Vincent went to therapy.
The fact still delighted Mave.
He claimed he hated it.
His therapist apparently disagreed.
At 7:04 a.m., the reentry-center door opened.
Vincent Costa stepped outside carrying one small duffel bag.
No charcoal suit.
No bodyguards.
No armored SUV.
Dark jeans.
White shirt.
Simple black jacket.
He looked leaner.
Older around the eyes.
Peaceful in a way Mave had never seen.
He spotted her.
Stopped.
Mave suddenly forgot every speech she had rehearsed.
Vincent crossed the sidewalk.
“Hi.”
She laughed.
“That’s what you came up with?”
“I had thirty months.”
“And?”
“Hi.”
She threw her arms around him.
Vincent held her so tightly her feet nearly left the pavement.
Daniel cleared his throat from the car.
They separated.
Vincent looked at him.
Daniel opened the passenger door.
“Breakfast?”
Vincent smiled.
“I’d like that.”
They went to the same diner in Queens where Vincent and Mave had once eaten before his hearing.
The waitress did not recognize him.
He loved that.
He ordered eggs.
Mave ordered pancakes.
Daniel ordered too much bacon.
For one hour, they were simply three people having breakfast.
Afterward Daniel left for the office.
Vincent and Mave walked along the river.
Cold morning sunlight touched the buildings.
Vincent put his hands in his jacket pockets.
“So.”
“So.”
“You said if it still felt like us—”
“I remember.”
He nodded.
Mave stopped walking.
“Vincent.”
His expression became serious.
“I lived.”
“I know.”
“I built my company. I fought with my father. I made friends you don’t know yet. I went to Maine alone. I dated one dentist.”
Vincent’s face changed.
“A dentist?”
“He was nice.”
“I dislike him.”
“You have never met him.”
“I have instincts.”
“He married somebody else.”
“Excellent instincts.”
Mave laughed.
Then she stepped closer.
“I did not wait in the way you were afraid I would.”
“I know.”
“But I also never stopped loving you.”
Vincent went completely still.
There it was.
The answer he had waited years to hear.
Mave touched his coat.
“I loved the man who protected me at the Plaza. I loved the idiot who hid half my life from me because he thought protection meant control. I loved the man who finally told the truth in court.”
Vincent’s eyes shone.
“And now?”
“Now I’m trying to figure out who you are without all of that.”
He nodded.
“That seems fair.”
“I think I’m going to like him.”
Vincent kissed her.
Slowly.
No reporters.
No gunmen.
No chandeliers.
Just a cold New York morning and two people who had finally run out of secrets worth hiding.
Six months later, Mave unlocked the door to Sullivan Trace’s new office.
A plaque beside reception read:
SULLIVAN TRACE
FORENSIC LOGISTICS & FINANCIAL INVESTIGATIONS
Daniel had already arrived.
Felix was arguing with the copier.
And Vincent stood in the tiny kitchen wearing an apron.
Mave stopped.
“What are you doing?”
“Cooking.”
“No.”
“I have improved.”
Smoke drifted from the toaster.
The alarm began shrieking.
Felix shouted from the hallway, “Former crime boss defeated by bagel!”
Vincent closed his eyes.
Mave laughed until she had to lean against the counter.
Later that evening, after everyone left, Vincent handed her a ceramic mug.
Black coffee.
Two sugars.
Mave looked at it.
“You remembered.”
He smiled.
“That doesn’t mean everyone does.”
The words were hers now.
She walked to the window.
Vincent joined her.
Far below, traffic moved through Manhattan.
The city was still loud.
Still complicated.
Still full of people hiding things inside numbers and contracts and locked rooms.
Mave slipped her hand into Vincent’s.
“You know,” she said, “the first time you told me to take your arm, I thought you were the most arrogant man alive.”
“I probably was.”
“Probably?”
“Growth takes time.”
She rested her head against his shoulder.
Vincent reached into his pocket.
Mave felt him move.
She looked down.
A small velvet box rested in his hand.
Her eyes widened.
“Vincent.”
He did not kneel.
He knew her too well for spectacle.
“I’m not asking you to belong to my future,” he said. “I’m asking whether I can belong in yours.”
Mave stared at him.
Then she smiled through tears.
“Yes.”
He exhaled like a man who had been holding his breath for years.
The ring was simple.
No family crest.
No legacy stone.
Nothing inherited from men who confused power with love.
Just something new.
Vincent slid it onto her finger.
Mave looked toward the office door.
“Dad is going to cry.”
“Your father terrifies me more than federal prison.”
“Good.”
They laughed.
Outside, dawn began touching the edge of the skyline.
Years earlier, Mave had believed her family’s story ended with disappearance.
Vincent had believed his ended with violence.
They had both been wrong.
May you like
Some endings were not doors closing.
Some were people finally coming home before morning.
