Chapter 10 - THE WATCH THAT NEVER STARTED AGAIN
Two years after Clare found the watch, it still read 2:17.
Sebastian could have repaired it.
Three watchmakers had offered.
One said the movement could be restored while keeping the original dial.
Another could replace the damaged components and make it nearly perfect.
Sebastian declined.
The watch worked differently now.
It kept one hour.
The hour his father erased.
That was enough.
His mobility had changed too.
Not into the version magazines wanted.
Sebastian remained a wheelchair user.
Full time in the community.
He could stand with braces and support for several minutes on good days.
He could initiate limited left-leg movement.
With an exoskeleton and therapists, he could take assisted steps for exercise.
His right leg had gained trace activation but little functional power.
Pain was lower.
Transfers easier.
Shoulders strong.
No miracle.
A life with more options.
That was better.
Clare no longer treated him.
Had not for almost two years.
Her clinic occasionally received Lombardi Foundation referrals only after she finally agreed to join the program under the same independent provider terms as everyone else.
No special volume.
No Sebastian selection.
By then their personal relationship was established enough that her business partner said declining out of fear of appearances had become its own form of letting him control her choices.
Clare hated when other people were right.
Oliver was ten.
His transplanted kidney was functioning well.
Not perfectly.
No transplant was.
Medication every day.
Labs.
Masks when needed.
Infection precautions.
A scar he had decided looked “extremely cool.”
Watch the dog was fat.
Clare denied responsibility.
Sebastian had evidence.
Life became ordinary in ways Clare once thought money would create.
It turned out money helped.
A lot.
But routine required more than money.
Trust.
Schedules.
Medication alarms.
People who showed up.
Boundaries everyone stopped testing every day.
Sebastian had become good at some of those.
Not all.
He still sent Gabriel to arrive fifteen minutes early everywhere.
He still hated being told to wait.
He still frightened restaurant managers by looking at them too long.
Clare still told him.
He still listened.
One Sunday, Sebastian took Clare and Oliver to the lake house.
The same property where he had recovered after the injury.
For years he had hated it.
Too many memories of hospital beds moved into bedrooms.
Therapists.
His father.
The missing watch.
Now the house had ramps that actually met code.
A dock lift he had chosen himself.
No medical equipment stored behind bedroom furniture.
Progress.
Oliver fished badly.
Gabriel fished worse.
Clare read on the terrace.
Sebastian sat beside her.
“Walk with me.”
She looked at his wheelchair.
He smiled.
“Figure of speech.”
“Dangerous.”
They went down the accessible path toward the water.
Sebastian rolled.
Clare walked.
No need to make the verbs match.
At the dock, he stopped.
The lake moved silver in late afternoon.
He took off the watch.
Clare noticed immediately.
“What?”
He held it out.
She frowned.
“No.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re holding an expensive sentimental object toward me.”
“Observation.”
“Keep it.”
“I’m not giving it away.”
“Good.”
He turned it over.
The engraving from his mother.
FROM MAMA — NEVER WASTE THE HOUR.
Below it, new engraving.
Tiny.
Not visible unless you looked.
RETURNED BY C.B.
Clare stared.
“You engraved my initials on your mother’s watch?”
“Yes.”
“Without asking?”
Sebastian’s expression changed.
He heard it.
Then looked down.
“You’re right.”
Clare waited.
He rubbed his thumb over the case.
“I wanted a record.”
“That I found it?”
“Yes.”
“You already know.”
“I know.”
“Gabriel knows.”
“Yes.”
“Three hospitals know.”
“Yes.”
“Half Chicago knows because of that terrible article.”
He almost smiled.
Clare continued.
“You didn’t need to mark the object.”
“No.”
He looked at the engraving again.
“Do you want me to remove it?”
Clare took time.
“No.”
He looked up.
“Why?”
“Because now you asked.”
That made him smile.
She touched the case.
“Also C.B. could be anybody.”
“Coward.”
“Compliance Bureau.”
“Terrible.”
“Coffee Buyer.”
“Worse.”
He put the watch back on.
Then:
“I have another question.”
Clare narrowed her eyes.
“That sounds planned.”
“It is.”
He reached into the side pouch of his chair.
Not a velvet ring box.
A folded piece of paper.
Clare stared.
“What is that?”
“Terms.”
She burst out laughing.
Of course.
Sebastian Lombardi, feared by half Chicago, had prepared terms for a proposal.
He unfolded the page.
At the top:
THINGS I AM NOT BUYING.
1. YOUR CLINIC.
2. YOUR BUILDING IF YOU EVER BUY ONE.
3. OLIVER A DINOSAUR.
4. A KIDNEY.
5. YOUR ANSWER.
Clare covered her mouth.
He continued.
“Bianca helped with number three.”
“Obviously.”
Then a second section.
THINGS I AM ASKING.
1. WHETHER YOU WANT TO MARRY ME.
2. WHETHER OLIVER GETS A SEPARATE VOTE ON LIVING ARRANGEMENTS.
3. WHETHER WATCH THE DOG IS ALLOWED ON MY BED.
Clare was crying now.
Annoyingly.
Sebastian looked suddenly less certain than he had facing Vale, the hospital board, or any rival.
Good.
He should.
This question was not his to control.
He said:
“I have a ring.”
“But I’m not taking it out until you say you want to see it.”
Clare laughed through tears.
“Who taught you consent?”
“An exhausting physical therapist.”
“Former.”
“Very former.”
She looked at the lake.
Then him.
Two years.
Not rescue.
Not gratitude.
Not because he paid her bills.
He had not.
Not because she fixed him.
She had not.
Not because Oliver needed a father.
Oliver already had a life, a mother, doctors, Mrs. Patel, an uncle, and a dog with criminally low discipline.
Sebastian had become something because he chose to show up.
And leave space.
Clare said:
“Yes.”
He stopped breathing.
Then:
“To which question?”
She laughed.
“Marriage.”
“Good.”
“Oliver votes on living arrangements.”
“Expected.”
“And the dog is not sleeping on your bed.”
Sebastian frowned.
“Unreasonable.”
“Non-negotiable.”
He reached for the ring box.
Then stopped.
“May I?”
Clare held out her hand.
“Yes.”
The ring was simple.
Not enormous.
He had learned.
Platinum.
Small old-cut diamond.
No family crest.
Clare looked.
“Was this your mother’s?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He blinked.
“Why good?”
“Your mother has already contributed enough jewelry to this relationship.”
He laughed.
Then slid it on.
No kneeling.
His body did not need to perform a convention to make the question serious.
Clare leaned down and kissed him.
Behind them, someone shouted.
Oliver.
“DID SHE SAY YES?”
Clare closed her eyes.
Sebastian looked toward the house.
Oliver, Gabriel, and Bianca were standing on the terrace.
Bianca had binoculars.
Clare stared.
“You brought your sister?”
Sebastian looked offended.
“I did not.”
Bianca shouted:
“I LIVE FOR THIS!”
Clare pointed at Sebastian.
“Your family has boundary problems.”
“Yes.”
“We’re working on it.”
Oliver ran down the ramp.
Watch the dog followed.
He reached them breathless.
“Can we get a dinosaur now?”
“No,” Clare and Sebastian said together.
Oliver looked betrayed.
Then saw the ring.
“Whoa.”
He looked at Sebastian.
“Are you my dad now?”
Clare’s chest tightened.
Sebastian did not grab the title.
He crouched? In chair, he looked directly at Oliver.
“No.”
Oliver frowned.
Sebastian continued.
“If your mom and I get married, I’ll be your stepfather.”
“If you want to call me something else, we figure it out.”
Oliver considered.
“Can I call you scary man?”
Sebastian looked at Clare.
She smiled.
“That seems earned.”
Oliver grinned.
Then hugged him.
Watch the dog tried to join.
Chaos.
Bianca arrived crying.
Gabriel pretended not to.
Later, after everyone went inside, Clare stayed on the dock with Sebastian.
She touched the broken watch.
“Are you ever going to fix it?”
“No.”
“Never?”
He looked at the stopped hands.
2:17.
“For four years I thought losing this watch was one more thing the accident took.”
A pause.
“Then you returned it.”
Clare smiled.
“From under your furniture.”
“Yes.”
“Important detail.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“The important detail is that when you found something valuable, you gave it back before you knew what it could buy.”
Clare groaned.
“You’re romanticizing basic honesty again.”
“I know.”
“At least you admit it.”
He smiled.
Then:
“You gave back more than the watch.”
Clare’s expression changed.
“No.”
Sebastian understood immediately.
He corrected himself.
“You helped me find records.”
“Yes.”
“You helped me ask better questions.”
“Yes.”
“You did not give me my body back.”
“No.”
“My life was already mine.”
“Yes.”
That mattered.
He looked at the lake.
“My father tried to protect me by deciding what truth I could live with.”
“Vale protected himself by changing a record.”
“Gabriel tried to hire you by using your son.”
“I tried to buy solutions you didn’t ask for.”
Clare nodded.
“Excellent summary of your growth opportunities.”
He laughed.
Then grew serious.
“The watch reminds me of the hour they took.”
Clare touched his hand.
“And?”
He looked at her.
“You remind me I get the next one.”
Better.
No cure.
No miracle.
No woman saving a broken man.
Just time returned to the person living it.
The following morning, Sebastian went to Lakeshore for rehab.
Engaged.
Still in his wheelchair.
Still wearing the broken watch.
Jonah Lee looked at the ring photo Bianca had already sent half Chicago.
“You finally asked her?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“Yes.”
Jonah nodded toward the parallel bars.
“Great.”
A pause.
“Now get to work.”
Sebastian laughed.
Five minutes of celebration.
May you like
Then back to life.
Exactly as Clare had taught him.
