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Chapter 19
Enzo
I had just settled into my favorite chair with a book and a glass of bourbon when the doorman called.
"Ciao?”
"Ciao, Signore Morelli.Aurora Ferro is here to see you."
"She is?" I wasn’t expecting Aurora to stop by, especially after how I’d acted the night before. I was frustrated. I felt guilty for letting myself feel more for Aurora than I should have, and I took it out on her. I felt terrible but I didn’t know how to make it better.
"Sì."
"Please, send her up." I was curious as to why she was stopping by, but I was glad to have a chance to see her. At least I knew that I hadn’t completely scared her away.
"Of course, signore."
I hung up the phone and closed my book.
I was surprised by how quickly she got to my apartment and even more surprised when I opened the door. She pushed past me, storming into the entryway. If looks could kill, she would have shot me dead right there, but I wasn't sure why she seemed angrier at that moment than she had after everything that had happened the night before.
"Aurora, what's wr—"
"You had me use your ex-girlfriend's toiletries and perfume before we would have sex so that I would smell like her?" She yelled.
"Fiancée," I said calmly as I shut the door.
I had no idea why I felt it was important to clarify that it was not my ex-girlfriend. Gemma had been my fiancée, and for some reason that was a very important distinction. But my amendment only seemed to anger Aurora more.
"What?" She snapped.
"Gemma was my fiancée, not my girlfriend.”
“That doesn’t make it any better!” Aurora's voice reached a shrill tone I didn't know she was capable of. “You are a sick bastard, you know that?” She shoved her finger into my chest, poking me angrily but I didn’t have time to respond before she continued. “What? She left you and instead of—I don't know, being a normal person, getting over it, and finding someone new, you start hiring prostitutes to fuck and pretend that they’re your ex?”
The disgust in her tone and the truth in her words were like a knife in my chest. She was right. Once Gemma was gone, I should have focused on dealing with it, moving on. instead of holding on to someone who wasn't there anymore. I’d been trying to pretend that she was still in my life.
Those Tuesdays were like a reward to myself for making it through the rest the week without falling apart but they had become a crutch I have begun living for those days, holding on to a fantasy that no longer existed—a fantasy where Gemma was mine and I wasn't just the lonely, pathetic shell of the man I once was. The irony was that I’d been more myself with Aurora than I had with any other girl in a long time. With her, I’d slowly started to feel myself coming back to life. But that felt like I was betraying Gemma.
“Enzo?” Aurora yelled and snapped her fingers in front of my face to get my attention. “You're not even listening to a thing I'm saying, are you? That's how little—” She looked away, looking heartbroken. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she blinked them back before continuing, her voice coming out weak and sounding defeated. “Of course, I don't mean anything to you. I started off as nothing more than a prop in your sick fantasy and that's all I’ll ever be.”
As if waking up from a dream, Aurora looked around my apartment then up at me with a dazed expression. Her eyes lit up with some type of realization. “I have to go. I have to go right now.”
“Aurora, wait. I reached for her arm, but she darted out of my grasp before I had time to pull her back.
“No. I need to go. I'm sorry.”
“Aurora,” I called out to her as she escaped the penthouse, hurrying down the hall. I didn't chase her. I could have caught her if I had tried. But if she wanted to get away from me, I didn't want to stop her, as much as it pained me to watch her go. I would give her some time to cool down before reaching out with my own apology.
I grabbed the bottle of bourbon from my cart and plop down with the glass I had poured before Aurora had barged in. Something told me I was going to need more than just one.
I woke up Monday morning on my sofa, the bottle of bourbon long ago empty and the glass knocked over on the carpet. It was a good thing I had finished my drink before passing out. It would have been a shame to waste good bourbon. Somehow the weekend had gotten away from me, and I barely found the strength to drag myself from the couch, leaving behind discarded photos of Gemma scattered on the coffee table. I couldn't remember when I had gotten them out, but I had some memory flashes of staring at the pictures, of crying, and yelling. I ran my fingers through my tousled hair and let out a heavy sigh.
Suddenly, it occurred to me that it was Monday, and I hurriedly pulled out my phone to check the time, but it was dead. I ran into my bedroom and checked the clock. I barely had time to make it to the office before my meeting with Ludovic.
I couldn't show up smelling of liquor, so I hurried through a shower and somehow made myself presentable.
The drive seemed tediously slow even though I was going well over the speed limit. I hated being late to a meeting, especially one so important. I paused to compose myself at the entrance to my office where Ludovic was already waiting.
