Page 29 of Tailored for You

I must’ve been loud because Enzo’s head snapped up, eyes landing directly on me. His eyes scanned me up and down, slowly, methodically. He lingered on my legs before meeting my eyes again, licking his bottom lip.

Heat rose to my face. I tried to avoid his gaze by looking somewhere else, only to find myself staring at the sliver of stomach peeking out from his shirt. My eyes shot back up, and his lips tipped up ever so slightly, catching me checking him out.

I glanced down at myself and realized I was wearing my sleep shirt. A big t-shirt with Santa drinking a soda. It was old and faded, with a tear at the collar. And the least sexy thing I could’ve been wearing.

He whispered something to Harper, who turned and stared at me with anger in her eyes.

I needed coffee if I was going to survive Enzo’s half-smiles and the sight of him playing with my daughter.

“We had a sleepover, and I didn’t even know Mommy!” She jumped down from her chair, marched to me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me farther into the room.

As much as I wanted to pull her away from everything and fuss over her after the night we’d had, I didn’t. Instead, I let her drag me into the massive kitchen. She slept through the night without so much as a peep. If she wasn’t spiraling, I was determined not to either.

She pointed to the chair next to the two men and huffed. “Enzo and me are cooking. Are you hungry?”

“No, but thank you for asking.” I crouched down to her level. “Did you wake up the whole house?”

We were still working on manners; saying please and thank you was a test for her some days. I wouldn’t put it past her to slip out of bed and open every door until she found someone to bother who wasn’t me.

“No. Enny was already awake.” Harper scrunched up her face, her sign that she was gearing up for a fight.

“I think it’s ready to be mixed, Harper,” Enzo called out.

Just like that, whatever she was about to say was forgotten, and she ran to Enzo, who lifted her back onto the chair. On the counter in front of me was a coffee with a straw.

I took a sip and sighed. It tasted exactly like a Daydream Latte from Blank Street.

A plate slid in front of me, filled with grapes, orange slices, pistachio nuts, and cheesy eggs. Another plate slid onto the counter, this one filled with pastries.

Harper sat on the counter across from me, her legs swinging as she dug into her bowl of mac and cheese. Enzo placed two more bowls full of mac and cheese in front of the two men.

I wanted to tell them they didn’t have to eat it, but held my tongue. At least I wasn’t the only one this morning who was going to get bossed around by a four-year-old.

“It’s good, right?” Harper said, with a spoon halfway to her mouth.

The two men nodded, muttering how good it was while I ate the healthiest breakfast I’d had since Harper was born. Maybe even before that.

“Donovan, Angelo. Can you show Harper around the house? I need a word with Serena,” Enzo said, placing his empty bowl in the sink.

I jumped off my chair, awkwardly standing and sitting at the same time. “It’s okay. I don’t want us to be a bother. I’m sure you’re busy, and we don’t want to be a nuisance.”

Enzo tilted his head and then walked over to me. “You and Harper could never be a nuisance,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“If you want to watch, I have a room with a bank of cameras where you can observe them while they give her a tour. No one comes in or out of this house that I don’t know about.” He leaned on the counter between us. “You are safe here.”

I tapped my foot, needing to believe we were in a safe place. At least for the day. I swallowed, looked at Harper, and nodded.

She smiled, threw her hands up in the air, and jumped down, landing in a crouch and yelling, “Kowabunga.”

One of the young men stood, brought his bowl to the sink, and said, “Ninja Turtles. Love them. I’m more of a Rafael fan myself.”

The other one stood, placed his bowl in the sink, and said, “I’m more of a Leonardo.” He crouched down to Harper’s level and held out his hand. “I’m Donovan.”

Harper stared at his hand a beat, then wrapped her hand around one finger, shook it hard, and said, “Michelangelo is the bestest and the only right answer.”

“Come on, kid,” the one I assumed was Angelo said, “let’s show you around the place.”

I wanted to follow, anxiety spiking at Harper leaving my sight. I made it one step when a hand lightly grabbed my wrist.