Chapter 7 - The ChoiceThe aftermath was swift and invisible to the city police. By morning, the clinic windows were completely repaired, gleaming as if nothing had ever happened. But the reality of Raphael's world could no longer be ignored.
That evening, Raphael stood by the window of Maya's apartment, looking out over the rain-slicked Brooklyn rooftops. Ghost was curled up by his feet, sound asleep.
"I'm moving my operations," Raphael said without turning around. "Not out of New York, but... away from here. I'm stepping back from the board, handing the heavy end of things over to my captains. It's time."
Maya walked over, standing beside him at the glass. "Why?"
"Because a man can only live in the dark for so long before he forgets what the sun looks like," Raphael said, turning his head to look at her. "And because I realized I don't want to spend the rest of my life watching from a black SUV. I want to be in the room."
He reached into his coat—not for an envelope of money, but for a simple, worn leather book.
"My mother's journal," he said, holding it out to her. "It has all her old remedies, notes on the stray animals she rescued, thoughts on how to keep going when things get heavy. I think it belongs with you."
Maya took the book, her fingers brushing his. It was warm.
May you like
"Does this mean you're going to keep showing up?" she asked, a small, teasing smile touching her lips.
Raphael’s expression softened, the hard edges melting away entirely. "Only if you'll have me, Maya. I'm very good at following directions now."
