“Yes,” she confirms with a bit of a question mark in her tone.
“Mr. Bane left you money, too, with the instruction to use it for your tuition, and then the rest at your own discretion.” Bruce flits his gaze at me. “And gave you co-ownership of Bane’s Café, with Mr. Jones.”
Claire releases my hand and points to the page he’s getting his information from. “That must be some mistake.” She shakes her head. “I don’t need anything. That’s…”
Bruce puts his palm in the air to stop her. “I don’t determine these affairs, and I’m unable to make changes to them. I’m just the guy who gets to divvy them out. What you choose to do with them is up to you, but I must respect Mr. Bane’s wishes and follow through with his estate plan.”
Claire and I share the same thought process.
I did nothing to deserve any of this. I only knew this man a week, and he left basically his entire fortune to me? There had to be someone else in his life that this could have gone to. Hell, he and Miller had a better relationship than we did, why didn’t he get all of Luciano’s stuff? I was practically a stranger that shared the same DNA.
Luciano’s final words cross into my mind. There was such sadness in his eyes when he told me he didn’t know. That he would have been there if he did. Maybe this was his way of making sure I knew that he meant those words. That regardless of when our paths intersected, he would always be looking out for me.
I tilt my head toward Claire, disbelief wrecking both of our features.
The bruising on her face has nearly faded into a pale green that is easily covered up by a little bit of makeup. The cut on her lip has scabbed over, and will more than likely leave a lasting scar, a forever reminder of the day she was almost taken from me. Her brow and cheek have healed nicely, and with some extra care, may continue until they’re good as new. The only remnants of them being the brutal memory that will never leave me.
But with every mark on both of us, the realization that we made it through, that despite everything that’s happened, we’re still here today.
Together.
* * *
Six months have passed since Luciano left us, and finally, Claire and I get the chance to do something we’ve been dying to do the second we broke free from Franklin.
I pull our black Audi into a parking spot across the street from our destination and hop out to open Claire’s door. I scan the vicinity, disallowing any negative feelings to come rushing in at being near a place that caused so much trauma.
“My lady,” I tell her.
“Why, thank you,” Claire beams back.
We hold each other’s hands tightly, the sun cascading down on our skin.
It’s much hotter than I remember, especially after spending the winter out east. Now, it’s the dead of summer, and the sun is making damn sure we’re aware of it.
I reach toward the handle, gripping it firmly and grinning at Claire.
The bell on the door does that familiar dinging I’ve heard a million times before.
I breathe in the scent of home—a mixture of coffee and freshly baked muffins. A smell that could never be replicated, that is reserved for one place and one place alone.
“Sit wherever you want,” a waitress tells us from a few tables down. She goes to work dumping the remaining plates into her plastic dishpan.
Claire makes her way straight to the counter, disregarding the odd looks she gets from a couple in a booth, and flips up the partition to step behind it. She holds it for me and I slide in after her.
Just then, the door to the kitchen swings open, a tall, gray-haired man appearing in front of us.
A mixture of shock, surprise, and then complete joy washes over him and into me.
His mouth drops open, and he reaches his arms out to envelop us both.
“Bram,” I sigh.
He sniffles and continues to hug us tightly, despite the scene we must be causing.
“Johnny, Claire.” Bram finally lets go. A bit of concern flits across his face. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I breathe.