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“Oh, come on! There are no windows in here. It’s not like I can run away or someone can come in without you seeing them at the outside door!”
“It’s not happening, Mrs. Titone,” he says coolly.
God, I wish he’d stop calling me that.
“And you can glare at me all you want,” he adds, “but I’m a lot more afraid of pissing off Elio than I am of you. What was it he said about watching you? Oh, right. ‘Protect my fiancé like her life is your own, because it is.’”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means he’ll kill me if something happens to you.”
I gawk at him, amazed at how casually he says it. He doesn’t seem upset in the slightest that his boss has literally threatened to kill him if he fucks up. It’s like he’s talking about being written up for being late to work.
“You should report him to somebody. To the Ministry of Labour, or something,” I mutter sarcastically, giving up on arguing with him and heading into a stall. I really do have to pee, and I don’t think I’ll make it home at this rate. Might as well just suck it up and go. I feel bad for the other girl in here, though. Must be kind of weird to suddenly hear a man’s voice echoing off the bathroom walls when you’re not expecting it.
I end up in the stall beside her, whoever she is. I meant to leave a stall between us as a courtesy, but the lock on the other stall at the end was broken, so I don’t have much choice. If I have to pee with Elio’s head of security in the room, I’m absolutely not going to do it in a stall where I have to lean forward to awkwardly hold the door closed with my hand.
It takes me a second to relax with Enzo out there, but after a couple of seconds I can pee and finally get out of here. As I go to reach for the toilet paper, though, I freeze.
Something’s down there, held aloft beneath the barrier cutting my stall off from the one beside me. It’s a notebook and a pen.
I suck in a breath, stealing a glance at the closed stall door. Enzo doesn’t seem to have reacted as far as I can tell. Our feet are far enough forward that he can see them, but now that I think about it, the paper is held under the part of the stall nearest the back. Enzo wouldn’t notice unless he was lying on the floor to look.
Curiosity getting the better of me, I snatch the notebook and pen.
It’s open to a lined page with some quickly-scrawled writing on it.
Hey! It’s Annabelle! Sorry, this is so weird, but I didn’t know if I could text you anymore. I saw that guy take your phone in class. Who is he? Your bodyguard? I also saw the engagement announcement. Are you seriously engaged to Elio Titone?
PS I promise I didn’t wipe yet so there’s no gross germs on the pen or anything.
I snort at the post script. This may be the weirdest form of conversation I’ve ever had, but it’s really nice to talk to someone other than Elio or one of his men. I like Valentina, but sometimes I just need to converse with someone who isn’t a Titone or someone working for their family. And since I haven’t heard from Willow in a while, I guess passing notes with Annabelle is all I’ve got for now.
I fiddle with the pen a little bit, wondering how I should reply. I certainly don’t consider myself engaged, but is it a good idea to tell other people that right now?
I take the easy way out, trying to stay away from the messiness of explaining, Well, Elio decided that we’re engaged right after he shot three men for me.
Instead, I just write,
It’s complicated.
PS I also didn’t wipe yet. Yay for no germs!
I pass back the notebook and pen, and it’s snatched from my hand instantly. A moment later I hear the rustling sound of the book and pen getting shoved into a bag, then more rustling, then a toilet flushing. I finish up and flush as well, exiting the stall at the same time Annabelle does.
Our eyes meet in the mirrors ahead before I break eye contact and turn on the tap at the sink. Enzo is leaning his hips against the counter, arms crossed, his gaze moving constantly between Annabelle, me, and the door.
Even while I focus on washing my hands, just like in the classroom, I can feel Annabelle looking at me, her curiosity like a physical touch on my skin.
“If you want to ask me anything else, you can,” I say, somewhat spontaneously. But honestly, at this point, screw it. If Enzo wants to hang around me non-stop then I’m not going to let him get in the way of actually talking to somebody. If he has a problem he can take it up with Elio.
Annabelle’s eyes get really big, like she wasn’t expecting me to address her in front of Enzo. She finishes washing her hands, wiping them on a brown paper towel.
“So,” she says slowly, watching Enzo like he’s a tiger about to pounce. “February twenty-ninth, eh? That’s pretty soon. And a Titone wedding. That’s going to be some event.”
“I guess,” I say noncommittally, drying my own hands and tossing the paper towels in the trash.
“Need an extra bridesmaid?”
