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I see his eyes crinkle at the sides as he smiles. “Me too, baby girl. I’m glad that I came and that you got to see your friends get married. They seem like a nice couple.”
“See! I told you that they’re not all bad.”
“You’re right,” he quips. “I was just sour because I knew being alone with you was going to be so fucking tempting.” He pauses, and I wait for it.
I shift my head when he doesn’t speak. “I’m not going to tell him, E.”
He brings my hand up to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “I know that,belladonna.”
My heart splinters into a thousand pieces. He doesn’t even want to talk about sneaking around… If I bring it up now, it’ll sound so desperate. I hide my disappointment.
I always knew deep down that if I got a taste of Enzo, then it would be the end of me. This is one instance that I would have loved to be proven wrong.
“Then why do you look so worried?”
He gives me a sad smile. “I’m not.”
I stare straight ahead, trying to not let my entire universe shatter.
It’s for the best,I tell myself.No good can come of this in the long run.
Pretty soon, I’ll forget his smile. His cologne. The way he looks at me intently before he’s about to devour my body.
Pretty soon, I’ll be able to breathe properly again without it feeling as if my whole world is collapsing. It’ll be like he never existed. Not in the way that I want him to anyway.
I can’t erase him from my thoughts, not now, not ever. I have to learn to live with the memory of it. Ofus.Because in the real world,usdoesn’t exist. It’s a dirty word reserved for when we’re alone together and manage to steal away what now seems to be just a distant memory.
He can’t leave me this way.Oh, but he is. And there isn’t a damned thing I can do about it.
* * *
I’m staring out of my office window, when my phone rings makes me jump.
“You’re late,” Marco says, sounding very unimpressed.
Shit a brick.He’s right. I am, and I’m never late.
I’ve spent the last two days wallowing in my post-Enzo glow, and let me just say, it is not a fun place to be.
“I’m just leaving. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” I don’t give him time to respond, hanging up on him and scooping everything off my desk and into my hold-all. Another thing that’s making me sick is my Louis Vuitton Never Full. It was the purse I bought the day that Enzo and I went shopping for wedding gifts.
“I’ll be back around four o’clock,” I say to Bianca who looks up from her computer while she types and talks on the phone. Oops. No wonder I didn’t get a reminder about my appointment.
I owe so much to Bianca that I forget she’s a human being and not a puppet. I make a mental note to buy her a nice gift after I finish at the casino.
I indicate I’m leaving and to call me, and she nods and gives me the thumbs up.
Of course, I told her everything. And I mean, everything. How could I not? And I can trust Bianca; it’s not like she’s going to tell anyone about what happened. She’s my best friend.
And when a girl’s gotta vent, she’s gotta vent. There’s no two ways about it, and though I know I’m wallowing in self-pity and pathetic-ness, Bianca gets it and is a shoulder to cry on.
I’ve decided that it’s time to pick up my bottom lip and stop dragging it around.
I don’t need to wait for him to call, or text—of which he’s done neither—I need to move on from this.
It was the best sex I’ve ever had and will likely ever have again. It was a great weekend being around Enzo. He’s warm, funny, natural, and I don’t have to put on any pretenses with him. It’s refreshing… he’s not like anybody else.
But that was then, and this is now.
