Page 89 of Daddy's Ring
"Would you rather be somewhere with sixteen pieces of silverware and a sommelier breathing down your neck?"
"God no." She's already reaching for more bread. "This is perfect."
We fall into easy conversation—nothing heavy, nothing complicated. Just trading stories about our week, laughing over Stellan's increasing competence with Maeve, debating whether Rosa's going to bring us dessert whether we want it or not.
The osso buco arrives and it's everything Rosa promised—meat falling off the bone, sauce rich and complex. Zola makes a sound that's borderline obscene and I have to remind myself we're in public.
"Okay." She points her fork at me. "You win. This is the best Italian I've ever had."
"Told you to trust me."
"You did." She takes another bite, savoring it. "Where'd you find this place?"
"Stellan actually." I lean back, watching her enjoy the food. "About five years ago. We were handling business nearby and he was starving, just walked into the first place he saw. Rosa took one look at him, told him he looked half-dead, and force-fed him three courses."
"Of course she did." Zola's smiling now, real and warm. "Does she feed every dangerous criminal who walks through her door?"
"Just the ones she likes." I steal a piece of her bread, duck when she swats at my hand. "She's particular about who gets the good treatment."
"And we're getting the good treatment?"
"You are." I nod toward her plate. "I'm just benefiting by association."
Rosa proves me right by bringing out tiramisu we absolutely did not order, along with two espressos and a look that dares us to refuse. We don't. The tiramisu is perfect—not too sweet, the coffee flavor strong and the mascarpone light.
When we finally leave, Zola loops her arm through mine like it's the most natural thing in the world. "Where to now?"
"One more stop." I guide her back to the car. "Best ice cream in the city."
"Have you tried them all?" She sounds skeptical.
"I think Stellan has." I open her door, wait until she's settled before closing it. "You'll love it. The kind they make fresh every day."
I drive us to Northern Liberties, to a small shop called Sweet Cream tucked away on a quiet block. The line's always out the door but it moves fast—they only make six flavors at a time, rotating based on what's in season.
"Brown butter pecan." Zola reads the board, standing close enough that I can smell her vanilla and coffee scent mixing with the sweet cream and sugar in the air. "Honey lavender. Blackberry lime. These all sound incredible."
"Get whatever you want." I'm already ordering salted caramel for myself. "Or get multiple, I don't care."
She ends up with honey lavender and blackberry lime—two scoops in a waffle cone that smells amazing. We take our icecream and walk, heading toward the river where I know a spot that's usually empty this time of night.
The park's technically closed but I know which gate has a broken lock, know the path that leads to a secluded area right on the water. Know I can handle any trouble that comes our way.
Trees overhead filter the city lights, the sound of the river covering the traffic noise. There's a bench that's probably older than we are, weathered but still solid.
Zola settles onto it, tucking her legs underneath her. The dress rides up slightly and I force myself to look at the water instead.
"This is nice." She licks ice cream off the side of her cone. "How'd you find it?"
"Used to come here when I needed to think." I sit beside her, close enough that our shoulders brush. "After you left, I'd drive around the city for hours. One night I ended up here, walked along the river until I couldn't feel my fingers anymore."
Her expression goes soft, sad. "Declan..."
"I'm not telling you to make you feel guilty." I keep my voice even. "Just being honest. This place got me through some hard nights. Figured it was fitting to bring you here now."
"It's beautiful." She looks up at the sky, at the stars barely visible through the city's light pollution. "Feels like we're somewhere else entirely."
"That's why I like it." I take a bite of my ice cream, let the sweetness coat my tongue. "Feels separate from everything else. No work, no family, no expectations. Just space to breathe."
