Chapter 13
Later that night, after the office staff had gone home and the estate settled into a quiet, peaceful stillness, I stayed late in the study. The storm outside lashed rain against the reinforced glass, but inside, the fire crackled warmly in the hearth.
Emma walked in carrying two mugs of black coffee, placing one on the desk before pulling up a chair directly opposite me.
“You’ve been staring at those blueprints for an hour,” she observed softly, studying my profile. “The community center in the South Side is fully funded. The contractors start pouring the foundation next Monday.”
“I was just thinking about where we were when you first walked through those front doors, Emma,” I admitted, my voice dropping into a reflective register. “You had twenty-two dollars in your pocket, a sick mother, and every reason in the world to run away from this house.”
May you like
Emma reached across the desk, placing her hand over mine. Her fingers were smooth now—the chemical burns from the diner cleaning shifts long since healed. “I didn't run because I knew you needed someone who wasn't afraid of your shadows, Danny. Just like I needed someone who believed I could be more than a midnight cleaner.”
I turned my hand over, interlocking my fingers with hers. “You were never just a cleaner, Emma. From the moment you looked at a man everyone called a monster and asked if you could keep working to survive, you owned this house.”
