“I do. But I also know you’re a workaholic. And that you co-own an international business. Something that’s not exactly conducive to a long-term relationship.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
“And the second thing?” Because I can tell there’s something he’s not saying, something he needs to say in order to clear the air between us.
He hesitates.
“Dev?”
“I can’t. She’ll kill me.”
The hair on the back of my neck rises.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Devon frowns. “Chari had a . . . thing for you.”
“I know that. What does some schoolgirl crush have to do with this?”
“Schoolgirl crush?” he says, brows rising. “I think it was more than that.”
My heart races at the possibility that Chari might have had a thing for me for longer than I’d realized. “Like in high school?”
Devon makes a face.
“Middle school?”
That, I wasn’t aware of.
“Try again.”
“Grade school?” I say incredulously. “You’re kidding me.”
But he isn’t. I can tell by his expression.
“She got better at hiding it, even from me. But I’m pretty sure my sister has had a crush on you for basically forever.”
“That doesn’t change anything.”
And it doesn’t. Except I kind of like it and look forward to teasing her about it.
“The hell it doesn’t. She’s been half in love with you her whole life. And now you swoop in with all of this.” He waves his arms at me.
“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean.”
“Most guys don’t take their girlfriends to Switzerland on a second date.”
I smile, unable to help it. “We haven’t firmed up that status yet. And third date. I’m counting this as our second.”
Devon gives me a look. “I suggest you firm up your status fairly quickly. I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt her, Enzo. But you guys have history. And that matters. Don’t break her fucking heart.”
“If I do, you have my permission to beat me to a bloody pulp.”
I mean that, and Devon could certainly do it. He’s been boxing since before he could ride a bike. It didn’t matter that I worked out five days a week or grew up with two brothers who liked to wrestle. But I have no intention of breaking Chari’s heart. I might not have a clear idea of where this is going, but I’m in it, all the way.
“We should have told you sooner,” I continue. “I’m glad you know now, Dev. I would have stayed away if I could’ve, but I couldn’t get her out of my head. There’s just something about you Atwoods . . .”
Devon knows I’m being serious. Finally, still unsmiling, he sticks out his hand.
“You have my blessing, but I’m also serious about what I said. Don’t think I’m above taking you up on your offer.”
“I know you’re not,” I say, deadly serious, and shake his hand. I’m glad this is over—that he knows—but I feel even more unsettled than before. Because I’m asking myself if I deserve the blessing my friend hesitantly gave me.
I’m not so sure that I do.
18
Chari
“You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin,” Mom says.
She’s right. I feel like it too.
“Maybe a little.”
Enzo invited me to come to breakfast with his family this morning, but I know he doesn’t get to spend much time with them. I didn’t want to interfere, so I skipped breakfast with the DeLucas. But he promised to stop by on his way to the lab, and I can’t sit still while I wait for him to show.
Mom took the day off to go skiing with the new beau. Which is weird in that we’re not much of a skiing family. We tried a few times at a local ski resort when Devon and I were kids, but neither of us took to it. I hated the cold, and Devon broke his arm on, like, his third run, so that was pretty much that. Mom told me that she used to ski, before us, and apparently she wants to take it up again.
I’m glad she found people she can trust to work in the shop. She deserves a day off. But I’m still a bit unsettled about the new guy.
I pick a piece of bacon off a serving plate in the kitchen. It’s sat there for a while, but I’m full of nervous energy.
“You missed Devon earlier,” Mom says, loading the dishwasher. “While you were in the shower.”
I finish the bacon, moving to help my mom.
“Yeah, he texted after he left to tell me he’d stopped by.” I pause. “Did he say anything else? About Enzo?”
Mom shakes her head. “Not really. But you know him.”
Devon isn’t always the most forthcoming when it comes to things like feelings.
“He seemed OK with it,” I press.
She takes out a dish I loaded and rerinses it.
“I think so too. Maybe just a little worried.”
“About?” I say, my tone a little harsh.
Mom continues to load up the dishwasher, as if we’re discussing something as inconsequential as the weather.
“Enzo always was kind of . . .” She hesitates.
Please don’t say something bad about him, Mom.
“. . . intense.”
“Meaning?”
“Just seems unlikely he’ll be ready to settle down anytime soon. With all he has going on.”
“He kind of owns a multibillion-dollar company that’s about to go worldwide. So yeah, I’d agree with that.”
Then comes the look.
“Mom, we’re not getting married. I don’t even know if we’re, like, boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“I would say going to Europe on a date qualifies you as boyfriend and girlfriend.”
Maybe.
“I like him,” she says, “Always have. But I’m not sure if he makes good boyfriend material, that’s all.”
She closes the dishwasher and blows out the candle in the center of the table. Mom loves her scented candles and goes through like two a week.
“But you’re a big girl and can handle yourself. Of that I have no doubt.”
My shoulders straighten. “Thanks, Mom.”
There’s something else I’ve been meaning to talk to her about, and I figure now’s as good a time as any.
“So, speaking of boyfriends . . .”
I let that linger. We haven’t talked much about Jeff, but I’ve asked pretty much everyone in town about him, and no one has a bad word to say. Of course, I suspect his ex-wife might have a different story.
My mirror image, twenty-five years older, looks back at me, quirking her brow. Suddenly I’m not so sure what to say, or how to say it. I settle on, “I realize I’ve been kind of strange about Jeff.”
“Chari, I told you to talk to me about him when you’re ready.”
“I guess I’m ready. And I really want you to be happy. It’s just . . .” I swallow. There’s no nice way to say this. “Your track record isn’t great.”
My mom laughs, but I’m serious.