It’s the perfect answer—acknowledging my strength while admitting his role in my healing process.
“Mom said you sing,” David mentions as our entrees arrive.
“I do. Music was important in maintaining humanity during… difficult times.” Quintus pauses, clearly choosing his words carefully. “Your mother has a lovely way of expressing herself, though she’s modest about her talents.”
“She does,” Ava agrees enthusiastically. “She used to sing us to sleep when we were little. Dad always told her to keep it down, said she was being too loud, called it caterwauling.”
“He did that constantly,” Michael adds. “Any time Mom seemed happy about something, he’d find a way to steal the joy out of it.”
Another memory I’d tucked away, another small cruelty that seemed insignificant at the time but accumulated into a lifetime of hurt.
“She should sing more,” Quintus says simply. “The world needs more beauty, not less.”
“I agree,” Ava says firmly. “Mom, you have to promise to keep singing. And maybe learn some gladiator songs?”
“I could teach her some,” Quintus offers, his eyes twinkling. “Though they’re mostly battle hymns and drinking songs.”
“Perfect!” Ava claps her hands together. “I want to learn those too.”
By the time dessert arrives, my children are laughing at Quintus’s stories about adjusting to modern technology. His bewilderment at smartphones, his first encounter with a drive-through, and the morning he accidentally set off the sanctuary’s security system trying to fix a motion sensor.
“You really love her, don’t you?” David asks suddenly, his question cutting through the lighter conversation.
Quintus doesn’t hesitate. “Completely. She is the first to make me strive to be more while loving me as I stand.”
“And your intentions?” Michael’s question is protective, but not aggressive. “Because she’s been through enough.”
“To love her as she is, to stand beside her dreams, and to build a life that strengthens us both. In Rome, vows were deeds,” he adds. “I will make mine so.” Quintus meets all their eyes directly. “Your mother doesn’t need rescuing or fixing. She needs partnership. That’s what I hope to offer.”
“My people believed that the goddess Fortuna blesses unions built on mutual respect and growth,” he continues. “What your mother and I have feels… divinely guided.”
The silence that follows feels weighty but not uncomfortable. I watch my children process his words, compare them to twenty-five years of watching their father treat me like a burden to be managed rather than a partner to be cherished.
“Good,” David says finally. “Because she deserves that.”
“She deserves everything,” Michael adds, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “And it’s about time someone recognized it.”
“I have a question,” Ava announces with the directness that’s purely her own. “When are you getting married?”
“Ava!” I feel heat flood my cheeks.
“What? You’re clearly crazy about each other. He just declared his intentions to the whole family, and you’re both adults who’ve waited long enough for happiness.” She grins at Quintus. “Besides, I want to be maid of honor, and I need time to plan the perfect dress.”
“We haven’t discussed marriage,” I say weakly.
“Why not?” Ava turns to Quintus. “Are you planning to propose?”
Quintus’s smile is gentle, but he doesn’t answer the question directly. “When your mother is ready for such words, she will hear them before all others.”
The non-answer somehow feels more romantic than any declaration could have been.
After we finish dessert and pay the check, Ava pulls me aside in the restroom. “Mom, would you mind if we borrowed Quintus for a bit? We want to get to know him and… well, we have questions that might be easier to ask without you there.”
I wonder if this is for a friendly drink or an IRS audit. Before I can inquire, Ava reassures me. “We like him, just want to get to know him a little better.”
“Just… be gentle with him. And don’t scare him off.”
“Are you kidding? We’re never letting him go.” Ava hugs me tight. “Take a walk, enjoy the city. We’ll meet you back at the hotel bar in an hour.”
