Chapter 186 189

Chapter 186 189
Enzo observes me out of the corner of his eye. “It was a long relationship?” he asks.

“Longer than it should have been,” I admit. “I was only eighteen when I met him. And he just seemed larger than life, you know? He seemed to me like a real grown-up. He had an apartment, a car, a job. And not just a shitty job either. A serious one. A respectable one. He impressed me without even having to try.”

“I bet he knew it, too.”

“Guys like him always do,” I sigh. “You know the worst part about all of it?”

“What?”

“I think I knew from pretty early on that he was a sleaze bag who had nothing to offer me,” I admit reluctantly. “But I stayed with him anyway because it was easy and comfortable. Because when I was with him, I felt safe.”

Enzo looks at me. He’s listening with his whole heart, but not interrupting. Just giving me space and comfort to search for truth in my memories.

“It was a delusional sense of safety, I’ll admit. But I’d run from a white trash trailer park. After sixteen years in that dump, literally anything was an improvement. ‘Sleaze bag’ was actually a big step-up.”

Enzo smiles sympathetically. “So you put up with him.”

“I just turned a blind eye,” I confess. “I pretended. I lied to myself.”

“Why pretend at all?” Enzo asks.

There’s no trace of judgement in his tone, but I’m afraid he’s judging me anyway.

Or maybe I’m just afraid of judging myself.

“Because I was stupid,” I say bluntly. “Because at the time, I wanted security more than I wanted honesty. I was willing to look the other way if it meant I could relax for a little while.”

“Was it worth it?” he asks.

I stare at him, stumped by the question for a moment.

“No,” I breathe finally. “No, I suppose in the long run, it wasn’t worth it.”

Enzo smiles kindly. “You don’t sound all that convinced.”

I sigh. “In some twisted way, I feel like Xander is the one that got me into all this mess. And without that entanglement, I might never have met Lucio or Evie.”

Enzo raises his eyebrows. “So what you’re saying is that everything you’ve been through is worth it—because of them?”

It sounds so stark and real when he puts it like that. I don’t think I’m ready to face such an unvarnished truth.

I concentrate on my chopped pumpkin.

“Don’t tell that to Lucio,” I laugh bitterly.

Enzo keeps gazing softly at me. “I won’t,” he promises. “But maybe you should.”

“He won’t want to hear it.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s true,” I say with a shrug. “He may care about me. For right now. But there’s no way he wants me around for the long haul. It’s naïve of me to believe that. Or hope for it.”

“But you hope anyway, don’t you?”

I look down. My cheeks are burning red.

“Don’t tell Lucio that either,” I mumble.

“There’s no shame in putting yourself out there, Charlotte,” Enzo tells me.

“Maybe there isn’t,” I agree. “But there sure is heck will be a lot of hurt. I don’t think I can go through that.”

“You’re a tough cookie,” he asserts. “You can go through anything.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to.”

“You have to ask yourself if it’s worth the risk,” he says. “Some things are, you know.”

I sigh and lay out the pumpkin on a tray before I pop it in the oven. “You know,” I say, turning back to him as I wipe my hands off on a dish towel, “if you ever decide to leave this line of work, you have a career option as a professional therapist.”

Enzo laughs. “No thanks. I can’t be fucked with other people’s problems.”

“Gee, thanks,” I laugh.

“This is different,” he says immediately. “This was advice between friends.”

“Friends?” I repeat, with my eyebrows raised. “We’re friends?”

“Oh, God. Don’t repeat that to anybody.”

Laughing, I punch him in the arm.

But I can’t deny that my heart feels a little less burdened.

Half an hour later, once my risotto has absorbed all the stock I’ve stirred in, we sit down to eat.

I’m not hungry, so I only ladle in a small spoonful onto my plate.

Having Enzo around has really helped distract me, but not by much. Every other breath brings my mind back to Lucio.

“You’re not eating,” Enzo points out.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re too damn skinny, Charlotte,” he tells me. “Eat.”

I smile. “You sound like the kind of mother I wish I’d had.”

He rolls his eyes. “This is what I get for trying to be a nice guy. Insults!”

I smile and spoon a small bite of risotto into my mouth just to make him happy.

Objectively speaking, I’m aware it tastes amazing. But I can’t find it in me to enjoy the flavors I’ve concocted. Everything falls flat, weighed down by my mood.

“I think he cares about you more than he’s letting on, Charlotte,” Enzo says, breaking the drawn-out silence. “Maybe you should try talking to him.”

My spirits stay low. There’s no way Enzo can know that. He’s just trying to make me feel better.

“I appreciate the advice, Enzo,” I tell him. “But there’s no way talking works with us. We’re both stubborn and hot-headed. Every time we try and have a conversation, it turns into an argument.”

“So don’t let it.”

I smirk. “Easier said than done.”

“Fuck,” Enzo sighs. “This risotto is better than my nonni used to make. Don’t repeat that to anyone, either.”

It feels good to share a laugh. And afterwards, when he insists on helping me do the dishes, it feels good to work silently side by side.

He’s my friend. And all the judgement-free comfort that that word entails is like aloe on a brutal sunburn.

I’m grateful for his company.

But as we put the last of the dishes away, I can already feel the loneliness start to creep back in.

It only reinforces the fears that have been compounding inside me since this morning.

Everything that’s filled me with happiness in the last few months—Evie, Enzo, Chef Santiago, my culinary aspirations, even my room upstairs—they’re all connected to Lucio.

Which means the moment he decides he’s done with me, those things and those people are gone, too.

I’ve allowed myself to rely on external factors and other people.

I’ve fallen into the hole my mother has lived in for most of her life.

I need to get out of this house.

I need to go for a walk and clear my head.

But I need to be sneaky about it, because I know there’s no way that Enzo’s going to let me leave the compound on my own.

“What are your plans for the night?” Enzo asks me.

“No plans,” I reply. “I’m just going to go upstairs to my room and sleep.”

He nods. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Enzo.”

I move forward and push myself up on my tiptoes so that I can kiss him on the cheek. He freezes instantly, shocked by the unfamiliar gesture.

But he allows it.

He clears his throat awkwardly when I pull away.

“Well, um, okay then. Goodnight,” he stutters.

I smile as he makes a hasty retreat out of the kitchen.

“And thanks for dinner!” he throws over his shoulder.

I wipe down the kitchen counters, turn off the lights, and slip into the garden. I’ve been around long enough to know the secret ways out of the compound.

There’s a man stationed at the ivy-covered gate I’m trying to sneak out of.

But I just wait until he walks off for a pee break. Then I slip out of the hidden gate and into the quiet of the streets.