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“Chellie, you’re my girlfriend. I’ll make sure my family knows who you are. Once they do, I won’t have to tell them to remember you. They’ll know to get you.”
She nods and steps back. I program my mom’s and sister’s numbers into her phone.
“Be careful, Enzo.”
“I will. I’ll see you soon.”
ChapterEight
Chellie
It’s been nine days. I didn’t hear from Enzo for the first three. His oldest brother, Luca, called me. I guess Enzo gave him my number. I’m glad he let me know Enzo wouldn’t be home for dinner. But then I had to wait thirty-six hours to hear from anyone again. The next thing I knew, Enzo was calling me from the airport, and I could hear engines in the background. He said he had to travel for a few days. I didn’t ask where, and he didn’t volunteer.
It’s been a long and lonely week. Nine days shouldn’t have felt like nine hundred years when we just started dating. But it didn’t feel like we’d only gone out a couple times. Not with the way things stood between us when he left. It felt like we’d always been together. It felt like I was on my way to happily ever after. But now I’m not so sure. I haven’t spoken to him since he was at the airport. I don’t know if he’ll feel the same way when he gets back. I know I do. I know with even more certainty that I want exactly what we talked about.
I talked to my sister, Elizabeth, about the guy I was dating. I was evasive, and she pointed it out. I said I didn’t want to jinx it. But I needed to tell someone how much I’m into Enzo and how much I miss him. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I could share what’s going on with Laura. I know she’d get it, but it sucks that I can’t talk to the one person who’d understand better than anyone. But my sister is an awesome listener who doesn’t try to fix things unless I ask. She lets me talk to work things out.
I’ve been lost in my daydreams for hours upon hours this week. I’mwaybehind on my work. Like if my boss finds out, I’ll never have a weekend or vacation day again. But I can’t concentrate. Part of it is worry that he’s changed his mind. Part of it is fantasizing about a future with him. I’m practically ready to doodleMrs. Michelle Mancinellior, if I really wanted to go old-fashioned,Mrs. Lorenzo Mancinelli. I rather like that one. With so many Mr. Mancinellis in the family, it must make it confusing when someone says mister or missus. I like the idea of people knowing that not only would I be a Mancinelli wife, I would be Enzo’s.
The hardest thing has been keeping this from Laura. I’ve been cagey when I’ve seen her. I went to the park with her and Christina and their three kids. Laura has twins, Konstantin and Mila, and Christina has a son, Lev. They’re the cutest kids and all inherited their fathers’ ice-blue eyes. As toddlers, it’s already clear to see Konstantin will be the spitting image of Maks, and Lev will be a mirror of Bogdan. Mila looks a lot like Laura except for the eyes. The girl is an old soul. In the past, I’ve thought about how nice it would be to have a family like my friends do.
But this was the first time I looked at their kids and thought about what mine would look like with a specific man. What they would look like if they were fifty percent mine and fifty percent Enzo’s. I liked what I saw. It made my heart hurt as much as it excited me. Would my children and Laura’s grow up to hate one another? Would they grow up knowing they’re mortal enemies? Would kids be what finishes my most cherished friendship?
My daydreaming made Laura ask questions. Thank goodness I’m a lawyer too, or I would have felt like I was being cross-examined. As is, I felt like I was practically giving a deposition as she kept asking me about last week. What I did. Where I went. Who I saw. Who I’m going to the gala with.
The gala. I hoped Enzo would take me, but it’s tonight. I’m trying to get these fucking fake eyelashes on without smearing the black glue all over my eyelid and fingertips. I know I’m supposed to use the little plastic tweezers, but I feel like I have even less control with them.
There. Both fuckers are on. I finish applying my makeup. I’ve already coaxed my hair into what is supposed to look like beachy waves. I’m not the greatest at styling my hair, but I think it’ll hold. Lord knows I volumized it as much as my fine hair can handle. I’ve pulled the sides up, so they won’t fall in my eyes. It shows off the earrings my parents gave me for my eighteenth birthday. I slide an amethyst ring onto my right ring finger before clasping a matching bracelet and necklace.
I look at my left hand, and my daydreams come back. The way Enzo and I talked, it might not be long before I have an engagement ring. Then again, it could have all been ridiculous dirty talk, and I’m living in fantasy land.
I look in the mirror one more time as I run my hands over my floor length champagne-colored evening gown. I attend a lot of these functions since they’re all fundraisers for my clients. I have a collection of gorgeous gowns and cocktail dresses that cost more than the condo I live in. I wish I could write them off as a business uniform expense.
I’ve tried the rental websites, but it’s almost guaranteed I’ll need something altered. Sometimes it’s having the hem length shortened. Sometimes it’s having the straps shortened. Sometimes it’s having the waist taken in. I never buy a dress that I’m unwilling to wear at least five times before I consider it an investment paid off. It’s not like I go to an event every week, but in spring and summer, I often have three or four in a week. The guest lists often overlap.
All right. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I grab my wrap and purse. I call for an Uber and head downstairs. When I step outside because it says my ride is almost here, I find a black town car parked out front.
“Ms. Russo?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Afonso. Mr. Mancinelli sent me.”
I look between him and the car. I don’t know him, and I’m scared to get in. Just as I’m about to say no, and the Uber shows up, my phone pings.
“Hold on, please.”
Lorenzo
The car is for you. You’re safe with Afonso. I wish I were in the car waiting for you.
I can’t help but smile.
Me
Thanks.
“I just need to cancel the Uber.”
