Chapter 8 - THE TABLE FOR TWO
Z
One year later, the Red Lion Pub was louder than Aliyah remembered.
Maybe the place had always been loud.
Maybe Victor Malenkov had simply stopped carrying silence with him wherever he went.
Aliyah entered at eleven thirty on a rainy Thursday night wearing navy-blue nursing scrubs beneath a winter coat.
She had passed her final clinical examination that afternoon.
Victor had sent exactly one text.
Proud of you.
No dramatic speech.
No flowers delivered by armed men.
Aliyah had specifically prohibited the second after he once sent eighty white roses to her university and accidentally caused security to investigate a “suspicious floral event.”
She spotted him immediately.
Table nine.
Same charcoal suit.
Same vodka.
Same onion soup.
But there were two chairs now.
Victor stood when she approached.
“You are late.”
“I was saving lives.”
“You were twenty-three minutes late.”
“Someone was having a baby.”
Victor considered that.
“Acceptable.”
Aliyah smiled and kissed him.
Nobody in the pub went silent anymore.
That had taken some adjustment.
For months, longtime customers had reacted to every display of affection as if Aliyah were juggling explosives.
Victor slowly changed.
Not entirely.
Men still feared him.
His businesses remained powerful.
But after the federal investigation, he dismantled the parts of his organization tied to Gabriel’s network.
Illegal shipping ended.
Several corrupt partnerships disappeared.
Two legitimate construction companies expanded.
Victor claimed this had nothing to do with Aliyah.
Nobody believed him.
Nikolai called it “the Brooks rehabilitation program.”
Victor threatened to fire him weekly.
Nikolai remained employed.
Aliyah sat.
Victor pushed a glass of sparkling water toward her.
“You remembered.”
“I remember everything you say.”
“That’s creepy.”
“It is efficient.”
He reached across the table.
Their fingers linked naturally now.
There were still moments when unexpected touch made Victor tense.
Crowded elevators.
Someone grabbing him from behind.
Hospitals remained difficult.
Healing had not erased twelve years.
It had simply given them somewhere else to go.
Aliyah took the old handkerchief from her coat.
Victor looked down.
The blue E remained in the corner.
The faint brown stain from her blood remained too.
“You still carry it.”
“Sometimes.”
“You were supposed to keep it.”
“I did.”
She placed it before him.
Victor frowned.
“Why are you giving it back?”
“I’m not.”
She unfolded the cloth.
Inside was another handkerchief.
New white linen.
In one corner, someone had embroidered a small blue A.
Victor stared.
Aliyah suddenly felt nervous.
“I thought maybe there should be two.”
He touched the A.
For once, Victor Malenkov had no words.
Aliyah smiled.
“Don’t make this weird.”
“You embroidered this?”
“I paid an old lady named Susan thirty dollars.”
“That sounds more plausible.”
Aliyah kicked him beneath the table.
Victor laughed.
Daniel, still managing the pub, looked over.
Even a year later, hearing Victor laugh was strange enough to turn heads.
“Aliyah.”
She looked back.
Victor had become serious.
“There is something else.”
“That sentence usually ends with gunfire.”
“Not tonight.”
He reached inside his jacket.
Aliyah stared.
“Victor.”
He placed a key on the table.
She blinked.
“What’s this?”
“My house.”
“You already gave me a key.”
“My other house.”
“You have too many houses.”
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
“The one in Vermont.”
Aliyah remembered it.
A lakeside property Victor had not visited since Elena’s death.
“I thought you hated that place.”
“I did.”
“What changed?”
He looked at her.
“I went last month.”
“Without telling me?”
“Yes.”
“Rude.”
“I needed to go alone.”
Aliyah became quiet.
Victor turned the key between his fingers.
“I packed Elena’s things.”
Her chest tightened.
Victor continued.
“I donated her clothes. The hospital received her books.”
“And the blue dress?”
“I kept it.”
Aliyah nodded.
“That feels right.”
“I moved the piano.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
Aliyah stared.
“What?”
Daniel grinned from behind the bar.
A curtain near the far wall opened.
The old grand piano from Victor’s penthouse stood beneath warm lights.
Aliyah laughed.
“You moved a piano into a pub?”
Victor looked mildly defensive.
“You said places should contain things people actually use.”
“I meant your house.”
“You were unclear.”
Victor walked toward the piano.
“I have not played since Elena died.”
Aliyah followed.
“You play?”
“I used to.”
He sat.
The pub slowly quieted.
Victor placed his hands on the keys.
For a second, nothing happened.
Aliyah saw his fingers tremble.
She sat beside him.
Their shoulders touched.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
That mattered.
Victor began to play.
The song was simple.
Soft.
Beautiful.
Halfway through, his eyes closed.
Aliyah understood without asking.
This belonged to Elena.
When he finished, nobody spoke.
Victor opened his eyes.
There were tears in them.
He did not hide them.
Aliyah took his hand.
Daniel turned away discreetly.
Victor whispered, “She used to sit beside me.”
Aliyah smiled softly.
“Then I’m in good company.”
Victor looked at her.
“You are not replacing her.”
“I know.”
“You never were.”
“I know that too.”
He touched her cheek.
Then his attention shifted toward table nine.
“The first night you fell on me, I thought the worst possible thing had happened.”
Aliyah raised an eyebrow.
“A waitress touching you?”
“Feeling something.”
Her expression softened.
“I had made grief predictable. Safe.”
“Grief isn’t safe.”
“No.”
Victor looked around the pub.
“I had constructed twelve years of my life around avoiding anything I could lose.”
Aliyah squeezed his hand.
“And then I destroyed your onion soup.”
“You destroyed several glasses as well.”
“Very romantic.”
“You asked.”
“I absolutely did not.”
Victor stood.
Then, unexpectedly, he lowered himself onto one knee.
The pub became silent.
Exactly like the first night.
Aliyah stared at him.
“Victor.”
He removed a small black box.
“No.”
His face changed.
“No?”
“I mean, yes. Probably. But you are not proposing after insulting my serving skills.”
A laugh moved through the pub.
Even Victor smiled.
“May I continue?”
Aliyah covered her mouth.
“Fine.”
Victor opened the box.
The ring was elegant.
Simple.
A single diamond set beside a tiny blue sapphire.
“Elena’s?” Aliyah whispered.
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
“This is yours.”
Tears filled her eyes.
Victor looked up at her.
“Twelve years ago, I decided loving someone was a weakness I would never allow again.”
He swallowed.
“Then you fell into my arms.”
Aliyah laughed through tears.
“You make it sound intentional.”
“I occasionally suspect it was.”
“It wasn’t.”
Victor smiled.
“You argued with me before knowing who I was.”
“You were bossy.”
“You ignored every security instruction I gave.”
“They were bad instructions.”
“You touched me when everyone else was afraid.”
Aliyah’s smile faded into something softer.
Victor’s voice lowered.
“And somehow you taught me that surviving someone you loved is not the same as betraying them.”
The room disappeared around them.
“You never asked me to forget Elena.”
“No.”
“You never asked me to become someone else.”
“I like who you are.”
“That remains your most questionable judgment.”
Aliyah laughed again.
Victor looked at the ring.
Then at her.
“Aliyah Brooks, will you marry me?”
She pretended to consider it.
Victor narrowed his eyes.
“Careful.”
“You threatening me during your proposal?”
“I am reconsidering several things.”
Aliyah dropped to her knees in front of him.
“Yes.”
Victor stopped breathing.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
He slipped the ring onto her finger.
The pub erupted.
Nikolai appeared from the bar holding champagne.
Aliyah pointed at him.
“You knew?”
“For seventeen days.”
“You kept a secret?”
“I am extremely well paid.”
Victor stood and pulled Aliyah against him.
Twelve years ago, another woman had died in his arms.
For years, Victor believed that moment had ended something inside him permanently.
He had been wrong.
Some losses did not close hearts.
They changed their shape.
Aliyah wrapped her arms around his neck.
Victor kissed her beneath the amber lights of the Red Lion Pub while rain struck the windows exactly as it had the night they met.
On table nine sat two white handkerchiefs.
One embroidered with an E.
One embroidered with an A.
The past beside the future.
Neither erased.
Neither forgotten.
And for the first time in twelve years, Victor Malenkov understood that moving forward did not mean leaving love behind.
It simply meant making room for more.
Outside, Boston disappeared beneath silver rain.
Inside, the most feared man in the room held the woman nobody expected him to love.
May you like
And this time, when everyone watched him touch her, nobody was afraid.
They applauded.
