Was he seriously asking me that?
“For starters, it’s bull-sushi. Need I remind you this did fudge all?” I pulled the necklace from underneath my shirt and showed him the rose quartz he’d given me last year, and still, no love in my life.
Not that I needed love. I had Ella. I had the memory of Sandra. That was more than enough.
“It wasn’t just for love, you know.”
“Oh yeah. It’s also for peace and balance.”
Enzo sighed.
“It’s not the crystal’s fault if you infected it with your negativity. I mean a crystal can only do so much.”
“I-E nothing.”
Enzo turned his attention to my daughter and shook his head.
“What am I going to do about your boneheaded daddy? Huh?”
“Bone’ead daddy,” Ella repeated, and my friend chuckled.
“I see you’ve been practicing your British accent, darling. Top notch, goddaughter,” he said in a terrible British accent while patting Ella’s head.
I huffed and sipped the tea, added more sugar, then sipped some more, if for nothing else than to prove to my stubborn friend that this stuff was bullshit, and no tea or cake could change someone’s fate. Or personality.
“Maybe it’s for the best, you know. Colin and Lydia leaving,” he said.
“Oh, now you’re on a first name basis with Mom and Dad?”
“Is there anything thatdoesn’tannoy you?” He huffed.
“Yes. Ella.” I pointed to my girl, and she cheered, giggling her sweet joyful laugh.
“Oh really? So why are you working yourself to the ground and spending even less time with her?”
“I’m not?—”
Enzo glared at me and pouted as if daring me to complete my sentence. I didn’t, but not because he was right, which… well, he was.
“Hm. That’s what I thought. You need to spend more time with your daughter. The restaurant is doing better than ever. You could quit the firefighting?—”
“No!” I shouted.
I didn’t mean to, but… I didn’t want to give up my one dream for the future. I’d always wanted to be a firefighter, ever since the Grill caught on fire, and I saw those brave men walk in and put it out like it was nothing.
Okay, maybe I also had a crush on those muscular hunks, but it was more than that. It was a calling.
“Well, you can quit the restaurant then. Thank god you stopped the trash collecting job, but it’s like you gave one job and put more hours in another.”
Which was true. Had it not been for Ella’s sudden rash and allergies, I’d still be working in waste management. It was a dirty job, but it paid better than most menial jobs around.
“I’m starting to think you and my parents are in cahoots,” I said.
“We’re not. We just have eyes and see what you’re doing is too much and a brain to know you’re just using work as an excuse to deal with?—”
I put my hand up. I didn’t want to talk about this. Not right now. Not again. Not in front of Ella.
“Enough. Enough. If you’re all so obsessed with me taking time off, I’ll do it.”
