Chapter 5
545 Words
Chapter Five
When I come down for breakfast, I pretend not to see Enzo inside the kitchen puttering amid pans and casseroles, but I can’t avoid my smile when I see he’s wearing an apron.
After breakfast, Collette, Jean, and I escape for a morning walk and with the corner of my eye, I see Enzo entering his car—it’s all s*x and wings and wedges and aero and jaw-dropping design, just like its owner.
All his attention directed at me feels like seawater tugging at my feet, an undertow. There’s a current in this house. It’s swirling beneath the surface, waiting to suck me down.
I can’t see it, but I can feel it.
I’m here to find my Salvatore, but it can’t hurt to enjoy some innocent time with a beautiful alpha male specimen.
Mario finds us as soon as we are back from our morning walk and tells us Enzo was in the kitchen since early morning preparing a delicious dinner for us but he had to leave for a few hours to work. Would it be all right if we go on a picnic, instead of having lunch?
When we are back from the picnic, Collette tows me inside my bedroom and locks the door behind her.
“Don’t start,” I say, before she can open her mouth.
Her gaze sharpens. “I want you to be happy, ma chérie.”
So do I. It’s hard to speak. “I’m trying.”
“And if it’s not with Salvatore but with this…Enzo?”
My chest feels tight because I was not expecting this. I deny it with a sharp shake of my head and to make sure she understands it. I add, “It’s not.”
She sighs, shaking her head, too. But her shaking is slow, to one side and then the other, kind of resigned. She doesn’t believe me—or maybe she just knows I’m a hopeless cause.
Perhaps I am a hopeless cause.
And Enzo…he isn’t making it easier. He isn’t hiding his appreciation and his desire; his interest.
He isn’t slinking near the edges, in the shadows, hoping not to be seen. He’s in plain sight—like me. We have that in common. It binds us together when I’d rather forget we have anything in common.
My heart clenches because Collette is right. I’m running and running, trying to find love, desperate to keep hidden and safe, but I’m failing.
It’s easy to see that I’m failing, standing in a bedroom of a friend’s house, feeling pathetic over some guy who is not Salvatore. I’m trying as hard as I can to find something durable, roots—I don’t know.
I am giving up everything—even my dignity—and it isn’t enough. Life is always throwing something at me. Be it in the form of a husband, or in the form of temptation.
A knot forms in my throat. I can’t speak even if I knew what to say.
Collette’s face falls. “Merde. I didn’t—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, my voice rough and wavering as I say, “I don’t think it will hurt anyone.”
“So worried about other people, ma amie,” Collette murmurs. “When really it’s you that can end up hurt.”
I should watch my heart.
Because then I could see as the cupid gets closer. I could watch as he releases his arrow.
And even so, there wouldn’t be a damn thing I can do to stop him.
- Writer
