Page 97 of Enzo

“Thanks,” I mutter. I almost didn’t recognize staring back at me from the mirror. “Shall we go?”

We take the private elevator and leave the hotel. Once outside, I’m aware that it would make sense to take the SUV, but I don’t want word getting back to my brothers that I’ve left the building. So we take a taxi instead.

“Where are we going?” Molly asks as the taxi moves on.

“To a small independent coffee shop in the West Village.”

“But I've had my one cup of coffee.”

“They have ice-cream, too.”

She looks out of the window the entire time.

A short while later the taxi stops outside the coffee shop. As soon as we go inside, it’s empty. Which is what I expected. This is a quiet little gem.

This is one of my haunts. It’s where I go to disappear when I need time to myself, but still want to be in the world, not in complete solitude.

Does it mean anything that I’m showing her a part of my life?

No.

I’m bringing Molly here because that’s exactly what she needs. She goes over to the counter where many flavors of ice-cream are on display.

I order an iced coffee. The friendly guy behind the counter takes my order and barely flinches. He hasn’t recognized me. Molly orders a mango and coconut sorbet.

Very Molly-esque.

“No one batted an eyelid,” she whispers when we find a table and sit down.

“They probably didn’t give us another look. They thought we were tourists,” I whisper. “And ... this place is empty.”

“The disguises worked.” She looks triumphant.

“Wait until you see the other ones,” I mutter. I don’t know what Lesley was thinking. I quickly check my texts, the ones I’ve been ignoring from my brothers.

Rio: You good? Need anything?

Matteo: The old man’s giving an interview tonight. I’ll send you the link.

Dex: She escaped yet?

I stick a thumbs up emoji to the first two, and a rolling-eyes emoji to Dex’s. I slide my phone back into my pocket and decide to ignore it for the rest of the day. I look up and Molly’s gone over to the counter again to get another scoop of ice-cream. She chats to the guy behind the counter.

“He was friendly.” She returns a while later and sits across from me again. I look over and the owner waves at me. I nod and he gives me a thumbs up.

“He recognized you,” Molly says.

“It would appear so. This isn’t really a disguise.”

“Even wearing different clothes, we still have mannerisms, and isms,” she remarks. “Things that give away who we are. You must come here often, and that’s why he knows its you.”

She’s right. She looks around the empty place. “It’s nice and quaint in here. I like it.”

“It’s one of my favorite places.”

“And you brought me here. I am honored.”

“I brought you here precisely because it’s mostly empty.”