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“I already promised Lena.”
They’re getting married in two weeks and it’s so surreal and exciting. I’m really happy for my brother. If someone had asked me a year ago what I thought about my brother becoming a father, the word I would have used is “worried.”
Roman is the best: caring, protective, loving, responsible. But he has been carrying a huge weight on his shoulders practically since the moment he was born. Especially after my dad died. My worries had more to do with the fact that I didn’t want that weight to double, especially if he added someone else to the people he felt he needed to be responsible for. I didn’t want him to crash and burn.
But he didn’t crash and burn—he soared. And my heart warms every day knowing that he found his person. That he found love.
He definitely deserves it.
“Mom misses you. I can’t believe you haven’t seen her since you moved out,” Roman says, his voice lightly scolding.
I look away and shrug. I’ve spoken to my mom a few times over the phone, but she hasn’t apologized. I’m not sure she even understands that what she did was wrong.
Roman gives me a meaningful look. “Holding grudges,sorella.”
“I just have a lot going on,” I inform him.
“Yeah, about that. How’s it going with Russo? Is he treating you right?”
Enzo’s walking over now. We were leaving when he was pulled into a conversation with a couple of people from the party. I followed Roman and Elena outside to say goodbye. Elena’s already in the car waiting for him.
“Everything’s fine,” I assure my brother.
I don’t have the heart to tell him that’s a lie. Because two months later, it feels like Enzo and I have barely made any progress.
Roman looks at me like he doesn’t quite believe me but he doesn’t push. “Make sure to work out your issues with Mom when you come over,” he says just as Enzo appears beside him.
“I will. Bye, big brother.”
He winks at me before looking at Enzo beside him. They offer each other weird bro nods and then Roman walks away, joining his fiancée at the car.
“What was that about your mother?” Enzo asks immediately.
He moves to my side. We start walking toward our car and he wraps his arm around my waist. I’m acutely aware of his touch. And even worse, I like the feel of his hands on me. I can’t help but think about how many times my body reacted to him tonight. Every look, every touch—it was like he was trying to imprint himself into me. I felt everything.
Enzo has always been intense. But tonight, any time our eyes met, it felt like he was finally letting me see the real him. The person he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.
But he has never let me see that person. And it would be wishful thinking to imagine he would.
“Nothing. We’ve just been in a kind of fight,” I say to answer his question.
“About?”
When we reach the black BMW, Enzo opens the passenger door for me. I find myself analyzing it. He has impeccable manners. A perfect gentleman. Or at least that’s how he seems. But that’s the problem. Everything Enzo does is deliberate, a way to paint himself as someone other than who he truly he is. I don’t know if I know him. And that’s our greatest issue.
I enter the car and wait for him to settle in the driver’s seat before replying.
”I was just disappointed by her reaction when she heard about our match,” I state with a small shrug.
Roman’s expression grows thoughtful. “What reaction?”
“It doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’m not angry at her anymore. I’m actually excited to see her in a few days. She must be stressed from all the wedding preparations.”
Enzo looks like he has something more to say but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns, facing forward to start the car. We arrive home in less than thirty minutes. It hits me then that I’ve acclimated enough to the Russo home to start referring to it as mine. The walls are silent, the house dimly lit as we walk across the floors.
Enzo follows me as we head in the direction of our bedrooms. Once I reach mine, I think he’s going to continue walking along, but he stays put. Nerves billow through me and I turn around.
“What is it?”
