The text came on a Tuesday morning while I was shelving books in the children's section.
Enzo: Come to New York with me this weekend.
I stared at my phone, my heart doing that annoying flutter thing it had been doing a lot lately.
Me: For what?
Enzo: I want to show you something.
Me: That's vague.
Enzo: Wayne Industries. My office. The place I've been spending all my time for the past five years. I want you to see what I built.
I leaned against the bookshelf, processing.
He wanted me to see his world. The life he'd created when I wasn't in it.
Me: I don't know...
Enzo: Please. It's important to me.
Me: Why?
Enzo: Because you're part of it. You've always been part of it. Even when you weren't there.
My chest tightened.
Me: Okay.
Enzo: Yeah?
Me: Yeah. When do we leave?
Enzo:
