“I’m gonna have to get used to this,” Devon says. “It’s still hard to believe.”
“Chari and Enzo?” Lisa asks. “What’s it like to have your best friend dating your little sister?”
“Ouch.” Enzo reaches across my body to grab a beer from the bar. When he leans this close, I can smell his cologne. Resisting the urge to taste it too, I let his neck pass by untouched. “You make it sound like I’m robbing the cradle. She’s only two years younger than Devon.”
Enzo moves his hand up to rub my arm.
“You cold?”
“Nope.” I might have shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.
As Devon and Enzo verbally spar with each other, I listen to them, realizing with something like wonder that the two friends will actually be related someday. Last night Enzo asked how I felt about the idea of getting married. He quickly assured me that he wasn’t rushing me—he was just curious.
I told him I liked the idea, a lot. But we both agreed we have a lot to do in the interim. Including one business to launch, and another to launch further into the stratosphere of success. So I have no idea what the timeline will be, but I do know I’m not letting this guy get away anytime soon. Our short brush with a breakup felt like it lasted a lifetime.
“Excuse me?”
The four of us turn toward a man who approached Enzo from behind. None of us know him. He walks with conviction, his salt-and-pepper beard somehow making him look more ominous.
“Enzo DeLuca, right?”
Enzo reaches out the hand that previously rested on my thigh.
“Yes, and you are?”
“Kenny Bradford. I live in Stratton.”
Two towns away, Stratton is even smaller than Bridgewater with, from what I can remember, maybe two bars, tops.
“My dad lived there when he first came over from Italy,” Enzo says. He’s gotten so accustomed to chatting with strangers that I swear he could run for political office. Except for the fact that he hates politics.
“I don’t want to intrude,” says the man as his gaze skates around the group. “I just wanted to thank you.”
I can tell we’re not the only people paying attention now—although people aren’t being obvious about it, I can tell they’re listening.
“My sister was hit by a drunk driver a few years ago. Her back is so messed up, she still can’t work. But she’s alive and we’re grateful for that. When we first heard about Angel, Inc., both my sister and I were thrilled. So I just wanted to say thanks, in person. You guys are doing amazing work.”
Enzo shakes Kenny’s hand again. I can tell he’s moved by this stranger’s gratitude. I know better than anyone his work ethic has much less to do with making more money than it does with improving quality of life for people, avoiding drunk driving accidents. He takes the social responsibility part of his business very seriously.
“It’s my pleasure,” he says, and I know Enzo is being sincere.
“I won’t take up any more of your time.”
Before Enzo can stop him, the stranger walks away, calling over his shoulder, “Angel is a great name, by the way.”
Everyone else has gone back to their conversations. But I can tell Enzo is pleased. As he should be.
“Angel,” he says, looking at me. “It’s not bad, but if I had to rename it, I think I’d go with a different name.”
“Would you really?” Lisa asks. “What would you call it?”
Enzo doesn’t break eye contact with me while answering her. “Tiger.” He smiles. “I think I’d call it Tiger, Inc. instead.”
I laugh, not even remotely cold, even though some ding-dong is holding the door open for all his friends. I hold up my beer.
“Cheers,” I say. Lisa and Devon raise up their drinks. “To Angel, Inc.”
Enzo raises his beer too. “And to its namesake, the woman I love.”
I’ll drink to that.
Epilogue
Enzo
“I’m so nervous.”
It’s hard to believe Chari is so worried about tonight. Within the last month, she upended her life, quit her job, and moved to New York. But she’s seriously worried about meeting Hayden for the first time. We’re stuck in traffic, and every minute that goes by, Chari fidgets more and more. Before long, she’s going to pull the buttons off her coat without realizing it.
“He’s going to love you.”
I take her hand, staying her nervous twisting of the buttons. Taking advantage of the fact that neither of us is wearing gloves, with it warming up a bit now that April has come. I rub circles into her palm.
“I still can’t believe you’ve never connected before. He and your brother get along great.
Unlike Chari, Devon has been to New York often enough over the past few years to get to know my friend and business partner. Hayden has been to Bridgewater before too, but those weekend visits coincided with occasions when Chari was either away or busy.
“I know, but Devon’s a guy.”
I’m not sure what to do with that.
“There’s a different dynamic between men. I just . . . I know how important he is to you, and I want him to like me.”
This is so unlike Chari. Her concern would almost be laughable if it weren’t so genuine. I haven’t met a soul who doesn’t like her. Chari’s ability to blend seamlessly into any crowd is one of her many remarkable qualities.
“He’ll love you. Like I do.”
“Wednesday nights are your thing,” she says, biting her lip. “Maybe we should have arranged this for another time.”
“Are you kidding? Hayden is dying to meet you.”
Chari just moved her stuff this weekend, and Hayden was out of town. So I’m bringing her to dinner tonight. But it’s very clear to me she’s as nervous as she claims, and nothing I say seems to help.
“Talk to me.”
Chari licks her lips, so of course I can’t resist the urge to do the same. I lean forward, intending to make my kiss comforting. Instead, it spirals quickly out of control. Thinking of those buttons she played with earlier, I find them easily, using them to pull her even closer.
One minute, I’m kissing my girlfriend to distract her.
The next, my hand is up her sweater, the distraction becoming very real. I find her hard nipple and roll it between my thumb and forefinger. Her low groan encourages me to continue until I’m throbbing with need for her.
I pull away and look out the tinted window. The traffic is basically at a standstill, and another soundproof tinted window conceals us from the driver.
Fuck it.
Moving with the speed of someone who knows traffic can lighten up any time, making our drive to Faustini’s quicker than anticipated, I fish out the condom in my wallet and go to work. It’s not easy maneuvering all of that in the back seat of a car, even a roomy one like this, but a little determination can go a long way.
It takes just a few minutes, Chari staring at me, openmouthed, clearly surprised at the quick turn of events, and I’m ready.
“You can’t be serious.”
But she knows I am. Already Chari’s boots are off, and her black leggings are halfway down her legs. I don’t need to pump myself. I don’t need to prepare at all. The thought of her sliding onto my lap, me filling her as we inch toward the restaurant, is all the enticement I need.