Chocolate.
She took one bite.
Then looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Trying to decide something.”
“What?”
He kissed her.
No dramatic music.
No rain.
No luxury car.
Just a small Chicago restaurant and a woman who froze for half a second before reaching across the table, touching the side of his face, and kissing him back.
When they separated, Victoria's expression was different.
Less controlled.
Daniel liked that very much.
“So?” she whispered.
“So what?”
“What did you decide?”
“That.”
She smiled.
“Excellent analysis.”
They kissed again.
A waiter appeared.
Then immediately disappeared.
By spring, Victoria knew everyone at Mercer Auto Works.
Mike from the transmission shop next door.
Rosa from the bakery.
Sam, the barber who still believed every wealthy person should be forced to wait fifteen minutes for a haircut.
And Lily.
Especially Lily.
Victoria discovered that seven-year-old children did not care about net worth.
They cared about whether adults remembered promised pancakes.
Whether they knew how to braid hair.
Victoria did not.
That became a problem.
Lily sat on the bathroom stool while Victoria attempted for the fourth time.
“You're pulling.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Dad is better.”
“I run fourteen billion dollars.”
“Dad doesn’t hurt.”
Victoria stared at Daniel through the mirror.
He was leaning against the doorway, delighted.
“You find this funny?”
“Immensely.”
“Help.”
“No.”
Lily sighed.
“Fancy lady, start again.”
Victoria did.
She learned.
Not quickly.
But seriously.
Daniel loved watching it.
That frightened him.
Love after loss did not feel like the first time.
When he fell in love with Rachel, there had been no ghost in the room.
No comparison.
No guilt about happiness.
With Victoria, joy sometimes arrived attached to betrayal.
He hated that.
One evening, after Lily fell asleep, Daniel sat on the back steps outside his house.
Victoria joined him.
She did not ask what was wrong immediately.
That was one reason he had fallen as far as he had.
Eventually she said, “You went somewhere.”
Daniel stared at the yard.
“Rachel.”
Victoria nodded.
No jealousy.
No tension.
Just recognition.
“I feel guilty sometimes.”
“For us?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because this is good.”
Victoria waited.
Daniel continued.
“She didn't get more good.”
Victoria looked down at her hands.
“That is not something you can fix by having less.”
He closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“Knowing isn't feeling.”
“No.”
She moved closer.
Their shoulders touched.
“I don't need you to stop loving her.”
Daniel looked at her.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“She is part of you.”
Victoria glanced toward the house.
“Part of Lily.”