Four months later, Mara was late for work.

That was Ethan's fault.

"You said seven-thirty."

"I said around seven-thirty."

"It's eight-ten."

Ethan grinned from the kitchen table.

The sight still stopped her sometimes.

Color had returned to his face.

He had gained eighteen pounds.

His hair was growing back.

Not much.

But enough for him to complain about it.

Mara poured coffee into a travel mug.

"You have labs at eleven."

"I know."

"Dr. Patel wants—"

"I know."

"Your antiviral—"

"Mara."

She stopped.

Ethan smiled.

"I'm not dying today."

Her chest tightened.

He said it lightly.

He could say things like that now.

The experimental treatment had worked better than anyone had expected.

Not a guarantee.

Never a guarantee.

But his latest marrow biopsy showed remission.

Remission.

Mara had cried in the hospital bathroom for twenty minutes when she heard the word.

She still hadn't told Vincent.

She hadn't spoken to him in eleven weeks.

Not really.

Tony occasionally sent messages through Samantha.

Rebecca once called to ask a deliberately unnecessary nursing question and then casually mentioned that Vincent had walked seventy feet without assistance.

Mara had pretended not to care.

She was terrible at pretending.

"Go," Ethan said.

"Eat."

"Work."

"Medication."

"Yes, Mom."

She threw a napkin at him.

Then kissed his head.

---

Lakeview Medical Center was chaos by nine.

Two admissions.

One family argument.

A resident who entered the wrong medication order.

Normal problems.

Mara loved them.

At 6:42 p.m., she finished charting and walked outside.

Chicago was turning gold in the late spring light.

She took three steps.

Then stopped.

A black SUV waited at the curb.

Her heart betrayed her immediately.

Tony leaned against it.

He smiled.

"Hi, Nurse Bennett."

"No."

"I haven't said anything."

"You drove two hours."

"Traffic was decent."

"What does he want?"

Tony looked across the street.

"Why don't you ask him?"

Mara followed his gaze.

And forgot how to breathe.

Vincent stood on the opposite sidewalk.

No wheelchair.

No walker.

A black cane in his right hand.

He wore a dark suit without a tie.

His hair was shorter.

His face healthier.

Stronger.

Alive.

The light changed.

Vincent crossed the street.

Slowly.

Each step deliberate.

Mara watched every one.

He stopped in front of her.

"You're staring."

"I'm assessing your gait."

"Liar."

"Right leg still compensating."

"Rebecca says I'm ahead of schedule."

"Rebecca is too nice to you."

"She says the same about you."

Mara looked at the cane.

"How far?"

"Without it?"

"Yes."

"Half a mile."

She tried not to smile.

Failed.

Vincent noticed.

"That's the first nice thing you've done since I got here."

"I haven't done anything."

"You smiled."

"Medical satisfaction."

"Of course."

Silence settled between them.

Not uncomfortable.

Just full.

Mara looked at Tony.

He had disappeared into the SUV.

Coward.

Vincent reached inside his coat.

Mara tensed.

He removed something small.

Her nursing badge.

The one she'd left on his bedside table.

"You kept that?"

"You left it."

"I resigned."

"I remember."

He handed it to her.

Mara took it.

"Why are you here?"

Vincent looked at her for a long moment.

"Ethan's in remission."

Her head snapped up.

"How do you know?"

"Tony."

"I'm going to kill Tony."

"He seemed willing to risk it."

Mara looked down.

Vincent's voice softened.

"I'm glad."

"Me too."

"I wanted to call."

"Why didn't you?"

"You told me to figure something out."

She looked at him.

"I did."

Mara's pulse increased.

Vincent stepped closer.

Not too close.

Enough.

"I don't need a nurse."

"Good."

"I have three now."

She stared.

"Three?"

"They work shifts."

"That's ridiculous."

"They're terrified of me."

"Smart women."

"One threatened to quit."

Mara laughed.

Vincent smiled.

Then the smile faded.

"I don't need you to keep me alive."

The noise of Chicago seemed to recede.

Mara waited.

"I want you in my life anyway."

There it was.

No order.

No money.

No contract.

No excuse.

Mara swallowed.

"That's not exactly romantic."

"I'm out of practice."

"Clearly."

"I can try again."

"Please don't."

He smiled.

"Come home with me."

Mara's heart kicked.

"To Lake Forest?"

"Yes."

"As your nurse?"

Vincent shook his head.

"Never again."

She looked at him.

"Then as what?"

He stepped closer.

"As the woman who walked into my house, ignored every rule I gave her, opened the one curtain nobody was allowed to touch, and somehow made me want to get out of bed."

Mara's eyes burned.

"That's very specific."

"I rehearsed."

She laughed.

"Tony helped?"

"Nico."

"That's worse."

Vincent's hand lifted.

He stopped before touching her face.

Waiting.

That mattered.

Mara closed the remaining distance herself.

She kissed him.

For all the moments they had almost done it, the real thing was surprisingly gentle.

No urgency.

No fight.

Vincent's hand settled against her cheek.

When they separated, Mara looked at him.

"You still owe me money."

His eyebrows rose.

"What?"

"Last Friday."

"You resigned before Friday."

"Unbelievable."

"Contractual technicality."

She kissed him again just to stop him talking.

---

The DeLuca estate looked different in spring.

That surprised Mara.

The pines were green.

The stone walls looked less severe beneath warm evening light.

And Elena's garden was alive.

Roses covered the beds.

Red.

White.

Pale pink.

Mara stopped on the terrace.

"These were dead."

"Dormant."

Vincent stood beside her with the cane.

"I had the groundskeeper restore everything."

"It's beautiful."

"My mother would complain."

"Why?"

"He changed the arrangement."

Mara smiled.

"Then maybe that's good."

Vincent looked at her.

"Maybe."

They went upstairs.

Mara stopped outside the bedroom.

The doors were open.

She stepped inside.

Then froze.

The room was full of sunlight.

The heavy charcoal curtains were gone.

Lighter ones framed the windows.

The furniture had been rearranged.

Fresh paint.

New bedding.

No medical equipment.

No monitors.

No smell of iodine.

No darkness.

"You changed everything."

Vincent leaned against the doorframe.

"I couldn't sleep here after you left."

Mara looked at him.

"That's either romantic or deeply unhealthy."

"Probably both."

She walked toward the windows.

Outside, the garden stretched beneath the setting sun.

The gazebo had been repaired.

Mara touched the curtain.

"You know, afternoon sun is going to fade the furniture."

"I'll buy new furniture."

"Of course you will."

She started to pull the curtain a few inches.

A hand covered hers.

Mara stopped.

Vincent stood behind her.

He looked outside.

For a moment, she thought about the man she'd met four months earlier.

Pale.

Feverish.

Angry.

Trapped in a dark room.

A man who could control an entire organization but couldn't stand beside his own bed.

A man who had kept the curtains closed for seventeen years because opening them meant remembering the worst moment of his life.

Now sunlight covered his face.

Vincent intertwined his fingers with hers.

"Leave them open."

Mara looked at him.

"You sure?"

He looked toward Elena's garden.

Then back at her.

"Yeah."

Mara released the curtain.

Vincent kissed her forehead.

Below them, roses moved gently in the evening wind.

The windows remained uncovered.

And for the first time in seventeen years, Vincent DeLuca didn't turn away from the light.

THE END.