Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“No, but—”
“Or that you spend so much time on the couch, the cushions are now shaped like your butt?”
I glared at him. “It’s my couch!”
“Or that you told me you loved him but you left because he doesn’t love you?”
“No!”
“All right then.” He shrugged. “You’re welcome.”
I frowned at him a moment longer before deciding I didn’t have the energy to argue. What did it matter anyway? Why shouldn’t Enzo think I was happier without him, going out to bars at night, talking or dancing with other guys? It’s not like he cared.
JJ left and I turned on the TV. I was trying to decide which sappy romantic comedy would cheer me up most when someone knocked on the door. Figuring my brother forgot to grab his keys, I got off the couch and opened it.
But it wasn’t JJ. It was Enzo.
Immediately my heart began to gallop. He looked so good. Hair combed, scruff trimmed, wearing a gray cashmere sweater that made me want to press my body to his and rest my cheek on his chest.
“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my expression neutral. I touched my damp hair self-consciously, tucking it behind one ear.
“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”
“I guess.” I backed up, giving him plenty of room to enter without coming close to me. Shutting the door behind him, I carefully side-stepped around him into the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks,” he said, following me. “I just came to bring you some things you left at the house.” He set a brown paper bag on the island.
I frowned at it and pushed my glasses up my nose. “I didn’t think I left anything.”
“It’s not much.”
Curious, I peeked into the bag. First I pulled out a big gray T-shirt that said Ciao on it. “This isn’t mine.”
“It isn’t?”
“No.” I checked the tag. “Enzo, it’s a men’s extra large.”
“Oh.” He cleared his throat, tucking his hands into the pockets of faded jeans. “I must have made a mistake then.”
I set it aside and pulled out a pasta and ravioli cutter. “These aren’t mine either.”
“I know, but you really seemed to like them whenever we made homemade pasta,” he said enthusiastically. “I thought you should have the set.”
“Oh.” I did like them—they were professional tools, beautifully made of brass with wooden handles—but mostly what I’d liked about making those meals with Enzo was how much fun we’d had cooking together. “Thanks.”
I put the tools next to the shirt on the island and reached into the bag again, pulling out the unopened box of Clomid.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted those or not,” Enzo said. “I was just going to throw them out, but then I thought maybe you could use them in the future.”
I swallowed hard and set the pills down. “Thanks.”
“There’s only one more thing in there.”
I put my hand in the bag again and as my fingers closed around the small velvet box, I realized what it was. Even though I wasn’t going to accept the gift, I pulled it out. “These aren’t mine, Enzo.”
“Yes, they are. I gave them to you.”
My eyes filled, and I frantically tried to blink away tears. “I can’t keep them.”
“Why not?”
“Because they belong in your family.”
He was silent for a moment. “But I want you to have them.”
Finally, I looked up at him. “What is this? What are you doing?”
“I’m—I’m giving back what’s yours.”
I looked down at the random assortment of things in front of me. “The only thing I want back from you is something you don’t even know you took.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” Shaking my head, I tossed the Clomid in the garbage, put the shirt, the pasta cutters, and the earrings back in the bag, and shoved it across the island toward him. “Here. I don’t want this stuff.”
He looked angry for a second, like I’d offended him, then seemed to notice my appearance. “You’re not going out tonight?”
I remembered what my brother had told him. “Later,” I lied.
“With who?” He tried not to sound jealous, but I knew him too well. Knew that angry squint of his eyes and tight clench of his jaw.
“No one you know.”
“Where?”
“Just some places in town.”
“Your brother said you’ve been going out a lot.”
I shrugged, neither confirming nor denying it.
“Any chance you’d rather stay in and hang out with me?” His mouth eased into an inviting, familiar smile. “I miss those Manhattans you make.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” He moved around the island, and I backed up against the counter.
“Because I have plans.”
He came closer. Caged me in against the counter with a hand on either side of my hips. “Cancel them.”
“No,” I said defiantly, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Come on.” He tilted his head, looking at me with half-closed eyes, one eyebrow arched. “You know you miss me.”
I stared at him in disbelief. Was he trying to seduce me right now? “Seriously, Enzo?”