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His reply comes in almost instantly. And I hate, fucking hate, the way the speed of it makes my heart do an odd little dip.
Good afternoon, Songbird. Are you supposed to be texting in class?
My cheeks flame. Oh, for fuck’s sake. I scowl at the screen, thumbs flying.
You answer my question first and then I’ll answer yours.
Once again, the reply comes in quickly.
Yes. I’m being your good little patient. All tucked in nice and snug. I didn’t know being injured would make you so damn bossy.
There’s a slight pause, and as I try to figure out what to say to that, another text comes in.
I should get you a cute little nurse’s outfit. I’d let you scold me all you wanted if you wore it.
Jesus Mary and Joseph. How this man is finding it in him to flirt while he’s laid up in bed with a busted kidney is absolutely beyond me. But it does sound like he’s doing alright at least, and there’s a pleasurable little rush of relief at that.
You never answered my question, comes another message. Are you supposed to be texting right now? Or are you supposed to be listening to the teacher?
Before I can answer, Enzo’s phone vibrates. He takes it out and appears to read a message that’s just come in. Then, without a word, he snatches my phone out of my hand and shoves it into his pocket.
“Hey!” I whisper-hiss at him. But even though I’m trying to be quiet, my voice carries. This isn’t a large lecture hall where you can get away with a quiet conversation in the back row. It’s a fifteen-person seminar, and when I look up every set of eyes is on me.
“I’m sorry,” I say instantly, wanting to fall through the fucking floor and disappear. My professor Dr Frank, a kind man I’ve always looked up to, shakes his head rapidly, face probably even more red than mine as his gaze goes to Enzo beside me.
“Not at all, Deirdre. Not at all,” he stammers. He’s clearly worried about some kind of reprisal from Enzo, or Elio, if he says anything about me disrupting the class.
God, he must have seen the engagement announcement by now. They probably all did. What must they think of me, their normal, boring, quiet classmate engaged to one of the most brutal men to ever walk Toronto’s streets?
Now that I think about it, the last time I was on this campus with Elio he broke my ex-boyfriend Brian’s nose, right out in the middle of the fucking daylight, not a care in the world for who might have been witness. I wonder if Brian’s seen the announcement. He must have. He always kept up to date with news and politics. There’s no way he would have missed it, the way it was plastered across every news site big and small.
Most of my classmates have already averted their gazes from me. It’s as if, sitting beside a made man, I’ve become the sun. Distracting, but too hard to look at for long without imminent pain. Everyone tries to appear very focused on what Dr Frank says next. Well, everyone except for one student, a dark-haired girl named Annabelle Choi. I like her, or at least, I did before, back when I had friends and wasn’t cut off from the whole damn world even as I tried to make my way back into it.
Annabelle and I worked on a project together as partners last semester, and as someone who tended to take on the majority of group work in school growing up, working with her was a dream. She’s whip-smart, detail oriented, a fast talker and an even faster writer. I can feel how keen her gaze is on me as I turn my burning face back to my laptop, her brown eyes brimming with about a million unspoken questions.
A few minutes later, the class ends, and I practically bolt out of it. Enzo and I join the crush of students leaving their classes from adjacent rooms. As we pass by a door into one of the women’s bathrooms on this floor, I stop.
“Hold on a second. I’m just gonna pop in here,” I tell Enzo, heading for the door. I go through it, expecting Enzo to wait outside, but infuriatingly, he doesn’t. He strolls right in after me.
“Hey!” I say, embarrassed and annoyed. “This is the ladies’ room. Out you go!”
Enzo doesn’t budge.
“There are stalls,” he says with a shrug. “Not like I’ll be watching you.”
Not like at home… Where I don’t even have a door at all. Good grief.
“It doesn’t matter! You’re still not supposed to come in here!” I glare and point furiously at the door.
Enzo doesn’t seem impressed. Light brown eyebrows rise over his hazel eyes.
“Look, Mrs. Titone, I have very specific orders that I’ve been given to follow in Elio’s absence. While he’s not here with you, I’m not to let you out of my sight.”
“I’ll already be out of your sight in the stall, so why can’t you go outside the room?”
He jerks his chin towards the gap between the bottoms of the stall doors and the floor. I follow his gaze, seeing one set of winter boots in an occupied stall. The other two are empty.
“I’ll still be able to see part of you.”
