“Okay,” I whisper, hating the vulnerability in the tremor to my voice.
Enzo hears it, of course. “I will stay here if you need me. Tell me not to go and I won’t.” He’s deadly serious, I can hear it in his tone.
“No. No,” I say, forcing a confident smile. “I’ll be fine.”
He searches my face for a while before nodding.
After food, Enzo herds me back to his room as though me being on my feet too long might cause me some traumatic experience. I indulge him, but only if he’ll stay with me, which is how we end up spending the rest of the day in his bed watching re-runs of The Office on his iPad.
He only leaves me once—to fetch us some soup for lunch.
After the light has long since faded outside Enzo rolls off the bed, stretching out his muscles.
“I’m going to shower and get ready,” he tells me on his way out of the door. He pauses at the threshold. “Will you be okay in here alone for a little while?”
“I’m okay, I’m sorry I’m a mess.” I stare down at the dark bedsheets.
Enzo’s footsteps grow closer, and he forces my head up to look at him. “You’re not a mess. You are so fucking strong.” He leans in to place a kiss on my forehead. “You amaze me.”
My cheeks heat and I dip my head once again. He lets me.
Enzo leaves to shower while I snoop through his room. It’s very minimalist in terms of furniture, just the bed, side tables, a dresser and a walk-in closet. But it’s not boring. He’s got little pops of color in art-work, and cozy blankets that tell me this is a home not just a place for him to sleep.
After exploring his bedroom, I search the rest of the apartment. My mind has been so out of it since I woke up, I haven’t truly taken any of it in before. The kitchen is gorgeous, deep blue cabinets and black countertops. State of the artappliances.
The color scheme isn’t that dissimilar to Lucas’s penthouse, and yet… this feels lived in. It’s not just some sterile box designed to showcase wealth.
My stomach rumbles, so I check the fridge. There’s not much, but he has eggs and cheese.
Perhaps I should feel more awkward using someone else's food… but this is Enzo.
I get to work—cracking eggs into a bowl, grating cheese, heating a pan.
By the time I’m ready to get started, I hear Enzo moving around. His footsteps grow closer, and when he comes into view, I lose all ability to think.
Gone is the disheveled Enzo that I woke up to. No, this is the Enzo I know from his reputation.
Dressed in an all-black suit; his beard is trimmed neatly, his hair coiffed to perfection. The suit clings to his frame, highlighting the muscles below.
Heat pools in my belly, and my mouth becomes dry.
As soon as I realize what’s happening, I panic.
I can’t be feeling like this.
Forcing myself to turn away before I have a breakdown, I focus on pouring the eggs into the pan. Without looking up I ask, “Want some?”
“Sure.”
I sneak a side glance at him to find him staring at me with something akin to affection in his eyes. I remind myself that he’s just looking at me like you would a friend. He doesn’t see me as more than that, and even if he did, I’m too broken for anything else.
If only I could get my stupid heart that’s been in love with him since I was eleven to get on board with my head that knows nothing will ever happen, that would be great.
We eat in silence.
Then it’s time for Enzo to leave.
He kisses my temple, his lips lingering a second longer than necessary before he pulls back, smiling sadly at me.
