“I actually don’t mind the cold so much from in here.”
He pats his chest, and I happily oblige. Laying my head down, I can hear Enzo’s heartbeat thunder beneath my ear.
“So you wouldn’t be opposed to having a house or an apartment in Montreux?”
I laugh as his fingers trace across my shoulders. “Not at all.”
His hand stills. I pick up my head to see if something’s wrong.
Propped up on white pillows, with his jet-black hair, I swear Enzo has never looked hotter than he does at this moment.
“I’m not kidding,” he says. I wait for him to crack a smile. But he doesn’t.
“You’re serious?”
“I am.” He pushes my hair back behind my ear.
“A house in Montreux?”
He runs a finger down my back, something I refuse to let distract me. We haven’t talked about the future yet, but both of us know the discussion is inevitable.
“You love it there.”
“I do, but . . . we can’t buy a house in every place I love.”
His slow smile refutes my words.
Again. Not getting distracted.
“So maybe we can meet up in our vacation homes?”
Sadly, his smile fades. But we need to talk about this. Although I know he’s willing to make this work, and so am I, the details matter.
“Chari, I’d never ask you to give up your job. But you’ve talked about being unhappy with your boss. With the whole public school system.”
I know this is a serious discussion, but before we go any further, I have to ask, “Are you tracing a heart on my back?”
He winks. And I think I might melt right into the bed.
“Feel free to tell me I’m crazy,” Enzo continues.
“You’re crazy.”
He gives me a look.
“But do continue.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you do. What I went through as a kid.”
Enzo opened up about his struggles in school this week, and rather than pretend I’d had no idea—I am so not a good liar—I did admit to having pulled that particular bit of information from my brother.
“You’re right. The kids who are struggling need help. Our help. But maybe we can do it another way.” His hand slows to a stop and now just rests on the small of my back. “What if . . .”
Enzo rarely gets nervous. But I can tell he is right now, and it’s freaking me out a bit.
“Enzo?”
He swallows. “What if you had unlimited funds to create something of your own for struggling readers? A program. A school. It would be totally up to you. But you’d have all the resources you need to get it started. Sky’s the limit.”
Create something of your own.
“Or you could do advocacy work to get the right reading programs into schools. Honestly, whatever you think would help kids the most. And”—he looks straight into my eyes—“you could do it from New York.”
Oh my God.
“Are you asking me to move in with you?”
I just want to be sure I’m not getting this wrong.
“I know it’s a big ask. You love Bridgewater. Your family is here. Your job is here.”
Is he serious? Move in with him? Start my own reading outreach program?
“And you’re so close with your mom. Not to mention Lisa and your friends. But . . .”
Holy shit.
Spread your wings, Chari. Like an angel.
I smile so hard my dry winter lips are ready to crack.
“Yes! Enzo, yes.”
He flips me onto my back, and I find myself looking up into his beautiful face, his smile reaching the very corners of his eyes.
“One thousand percent yes.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to work Monday.”
It’s hard to hear Lisa over the drunken shouts that fill the bar as Enzo and Devon win another round of shuffleboard. Apparently neither has lost their touch, and no other duo in The Wheelhouse can best them.
“Another round?” Mike asks from behind the bar.
“Sure,” I respond as Lisa shrugs her shoulders in the universal gesture of why not?
Since I still haven’t responded to her about the whole work thing, I shift my gaze to her and say, “I can’t just up and leave. They need to find a replacement for me.”
I watch as Enzo leans over the shuffleboard table.
“You are not being very subtle,” Lisa comments with no small measure of amusement.
“Thankfully, I don’t have to be,” I respond. Enzo moves aside for his brother Gian, who’s on the opposing team.
Lisa takes two Angel Pale Ale bottles, along with the small white pill packages accompanying them, from Mike. After thanking him and handing me one of the bottles and pills, she asks, “So when will you move?”
“As soon as they replace me.”
I’ve already told everyone. It was especially hard to break the news to my mom and brother. I’m so close to them both that it’s difficult to imagine a week without either of them. But the trade-off is pretty sweet. As if he can hear my thoughts, Enzo looks back at us.
At me.
“He’s crazy about you,” Lisa says with a smile.
Gian gives his brother a nudge. It’s Enzo’s turn.
“I’m crazy about him too.”
Thankfully, people are a bit more used to seeing Enzo here than they were that first night. And although we spent most of the week at Chateau LeMonte, whenever we emerged I was reminded that my boyfriend isn’t just any guy. Everywhere we went, people watched, some more subtly than others.
And now I’m a part of that world.
As if dating him weren’t enough pressure, I now have my own business to build. The possibilities keep me awake well after Enzo falls asleep at night. And for the first time, I think I understand him a bit better.
I won’t be working for someone else. Every idea, every success or failure, will be mine. There’s a certain power to that. It’s also intimidating as hell.
“You OK?” Lisa asks, giving me a nudge.
“Yeah. It’s just . . . this whole job thing is scary.”
“I bet. But exciting too, right?”
Exciting. That’s a good word for it. Before Enzo came back into my life, it had fallen into a routine that was both safe and boring. Now I’m plunging into uncertainty, head-on. All week Enzo has been preparing me for life as a business owner.
“Super exciting,” I agree.
“Finally,” Lisa says, gesturing to the shuffleboard table. “I didn’t think anyone was going to beat them.”
Gian and his friend pump their fists into the air in victory and then shake hands with Enzo and Devon. They’ve lost, but there’s an upside to it.
As Enzo approaches me, I shift on my barstool to face him. He stands between my parted legs, kissing me as if my best friend and brother aren’t two feet away.
“Get a room,” Devon quips.
I’m not usually one for PDA, but all bets are off. Enzo and I are still celebrating our reunion and savoring each other. I hope we never stop.
“We have a room,” Enzo says as he ends the kiss, stepping out from between my legs. Nodding to Mike for another drink, he stays firmly planted next to my stool, one hand on my upper thigh. Taunting me.