God, I'm so pathetic.
He rummages through his pants until he removes his phone, dialing someone.
"Who are you calling?" I ask accusingly.
"The owner of the perfume," he says. "Maybe she can shed some light on our situation and you can start seeing that not everything I say is a lie."
He places the phone between us and puts it on speaker.
"Mon cher? What happened?" An accented voice answers, and I instinctively cringe at the way she addresses him. A sudden image of a glamorous French woman assaults me, and I'm barely holding it together as I imagine her using her seduction onmyhusband.
"Did you finally sober up?" she asks dryly before he has the chance to reply. "Don't worry, Luca's sleeping peacefully at myplace," she continues and my eyes turn murderous when I realize my son is with this woman.
"What?" the word tumbles from my mouth, my hand suddenly searching for the knife.
"Maman,"Enzo addresses her and I pause, frowning at his appellation.
Why is he calling her mother?
His eyes slide to mine as he continues.
"My wife has a few questions for you."
What, me? Way to throw me under the bus.
"Mon fils," she exclaims, almost in wonder, "you mean she's…"
"Yes," he answers dryly, "she's alive and here to kill me. And your answer might just save my life."
"Enzo, don't joke with such things!" She makes a tsk sound before pausing. "Allegra? Are you there?" She calls out my name and I don't know why I'm suddenly a little embarrassed.
"Yes," I clear my throat, curious to see what she could possibly tell me about Enzo that I don't already know.
"Mon Dieu! C'est un miracle. Enzo, tu as beaucoup de chance. Ah, c'est incroyable."
"Maman, English please," he tells her, a little amused.
"Ah,oui, oui. My dear, I can't believe this is happening. I thought Enzo was mad when he kept telling me you were coming back. And here you are," she releases a dreamy sigh, and I have to reluctantly admit that her chatter is endearing.
"Allegra, what is it that you wanted to ask? Don't worry about your son, he's in good hands. I love that little angel more than anything," she continues, and my animosity seems to lessen.
But I can't let myself be roped into their lies.
So I go straight to the point.
"What's your relationship with Enzo?"
"My relationship with Enzo..." she trails off, as if the questionis absurd. "Oh, I see, I see—you’re jealous," she states point-blank, and I feel put on the spot—again.
"Indeed, maman, my little tigress is so jealous she's sharpening her claws on my skin. It would be really nice if you could assure her that our relationship is purely platonic," he replies, a smile creeping up his face.
"But of course. Allegra, dear, don't you worry, our relationship is purely platonic," she says, reiterating Enzo's words verbatim.
"How convincing," I mutter.
"He's thirty years my junior,Mon Dieu! I'd never rob the cradle," she continues in a disgusted voice. "We've known each other for almost two decades, and he's been like a son to me."
"You've certainly been the mother I never had, maman," Enzo adds fondly.
