“Cool. Hey, Char, how’s Mom?”
I don’t even excuse myself, knowing Devon will get suspicious soon if I keep dodging him. But who could have guessed how awkward this situation with his sister would be?
Maybe me. And I probably should have. Seeking out Chari will actively ruin one of my oldest friendships, and I knew it even as I walked toward her tonight. And in The Wheelhouse this morning.
There’s no way this plays out well, and I can tell by Chari’s face she knows it too. Looking forward all day to seeing her, stupid. Seeking her out tonight, just as stupid. I’ve been playing with fire, and this is the kind of fire that could get us both burned.
For the rest of the night, I’ll talk to Chari as I would any other person in the room. Cordially. Sociably. Not like I want to jump her bones at any second. I’m not some kind of animal that I can’t accomplish this. It’s one night. Tomorrow, I’ll be back in New York.
But first I need another drink.
6
Chari
This night is not turning out how I expected. But it’s probably for the best.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.” Lisa freezes when she sees my face. “Uh-oh. Come with me.”
I follow her to the back of the restaurant, toward a set of stairs. We walk down a few steps and stop.
DeLuca’s II is going to be a smashing success. All night people have been complimenting the decor, the food. The enclosed deck is beautiful, the whole place, packed. And everyone seems to be having a fantastic time. Everyone except me.
“This isn’t necessary.”
I can barely see Lisa’s face. The stairs are dark, the only light from the bustling restaurant and half-closed door above us.
“Yes, it is. I know that look.”
My eye roll is probably wasted on her on the dim stairs. Or maybe not, given what she says next.
“You can pretend to everyone else, but I was there when you tried on like ten dresses.”
“Three,” I correct her, still sipping the beer Enzo brought me.
“Okay, three. So what happened?”
“Exactly nothing. It must have been my imagination run wild this morning. He is exactly like I remember him. Nice. Funny. Easy to talk to. Incredibly sexy.”
I can see enough of her face to detect a smile.
“OK, I guess the sexy one is new. I mean, he was always hot, but there’s something about his confidence that really . . .”
“You’re getting off topic.”
“My point is that we were wrong.”
Lisa shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I know what flirting looks like, and Enzo was full-on flirting with you this morning.”
Another sip.
“Maybe he changed his mind? Maybe he remembered he doesn’t need to flirt with a country bumpkin. I’m sure he has legions of women who fall at his feet in New York.”
“You are not a country bumpkin.”
Except that I kind of am. And Lisa is too, but I don’t tell her that.
“OK, I’m a sophisticated socialite who also happens to be a teacher from a small town in Pennsylvania. You’re totally right.”
“I thought you said you were worldly?”
I have to smile at that despite the pit in my stomach.
“I lied.” And I’m about to do it again. I’m about to tell Lisa that I really don’t need to be down here, huddled on the stairs, talking it out. I survived just fine without Enzo before this weekend, and can do so again when he leaves tomorrow.
“Everything all right down there?”
Even in the dark, I can see the whites of Lisa’s eyes as they widen.
“It’s him,” she whispers.
As if it could be anyone else. I start to walk up the stairs, but I don’t make it more than a couple of steps before Lisa tugs on my wrist, stopping me. Which is when she vaults ahead of me, racing up the stairs like it’s the first day of spring and our annual let’s start running phase, something that usually lasts no longer than four days before we decide to go get our nails done instead.
I start to follow her, but there’s an exchange of hushed voices at the top of the steps, and suddenly a very clear new scent is heading toward me. Masculine hotness, otherwise known as Enzo, makes his way down the stairs.
“Uh, hi,” I say. Because if I had any cool, it has long since burned away.
“I didn’t mean to break up the party.”
Did Enzo buy that new deep baritone voice with all his millions of dollars? I don’t remember him sounding quite so . . .
“It’s okay. Just a bit noisy up there. Lisa and I . . .” Are what? Spies? I have no good excuse to be down here. “. . . needed to talk privately.”
He takes another step down toward me. And although it’s still dark down here, my eyes have adjusted enough for me to see half of his face. And his eyes.
The glint in them has me waffling back to I think he’s flirting with me.
He nods toward the basement below us. “The downstairs is for private catering. Wanna see it?”
There’s a lot I’d like to see at the moment, but the catering room isn’t top on my list. Still, it will give us the chance to be alone together. For me to maybe figure out whether this is all in my head.
“Sure.”
Enzo takes another step until he’s directly next to me, so close our bodies nearly touch. The look he gives me practically sizzles, but I can’t help but wonder if that’s just wishful thinking. I have zero confidence in my ability to read him. The next thing I know, he’s on the step below me, flipping a switch and illuminating half of the room.
“It’s gorgeous.”
Sliding glass doors lead out to a dock ending in the lake. The interior isn’t fancy, but it’s very comfortable. Exactly the opposite of what you’d expect from a characterless catering room. Old-time black and white family photos line the walls, and some of the furniture looks like it belongs in a living room instead of a catering space.
“You should see the view.” He walks toward the glass doors, through the part of the space that’s still dark.
“Is there another light back here?” I ask, joining him.
“Yes, but you can’t see the lake very well when it’s on.”
We’re at ground level now, lights from the deck above illuminating just enough of the patio for me to imagine how stunning this spot will be in the summer. More lights dot the area round the lake, though fewer than there’ll be in a couple of months.
“How do you know?” I blurt before thinking better of it.
Enzo takes a sip of his beer. “Tris videoed me in for a tour when he bought the place.”
Or when Enzo bought it for him.
“He’s done an amazing job,” he continues.
I agree. “Will your dad miss him at the shop?”
Enzo sighs, and I catch myself staring at his profile. I may have crap taste in boyfriends, but I’ll give myself one thing. I know a good-looking man when I see one. All of the DeLuca boys are lady-killers, of course, but Enzo was always the one who held my eye . . .
“I’m sure he will. But things change. People grow up. Move on.”
“Are you talking about Tris, or yourself?”