Page 36 of Daring Enzo

I cringe as I remember the mess I’d made while cooking. Thankfully, I’d started early and left with enough time to clean up before wearing out my floors with my nervous pacing.

My mind fills with how best to apologize. The last thing I want is for her to be offended by my intentions.

“You’re not eating. Don’t you like salmon?” she asks suddenly.

I look down at my barely touched food and then at hers, her plate almost empty. I smiled.

“I had little bites of food while I was cooking, and I’m full. Besides, I made this for you,” I confess, avoiding her gaze when she silently watches me.

“Is this the only reason?” she queries after a minute of silence.

I shake my head, seeing an opening on how best to proceed. Her plate is empty, yet mine sits cold.

“No, I suppose it isn’t,” I say, walking up to her. I take the seat beside her and look directly into her eyes.

“I invited you here to apologize. I feel terrible about what I’ve done. I should’ve never allowed my jealousy to cause me to do what I did,” I admit, picking up the bag I hid in the corner.

“What’s it?” she asks, eyeing the bag.

I pull out the box and hand it to her. She opens it tentatively, her gasps the only reaction to the gift. She runs her hand gently across the diamond bracelet, peering at the matching set of neckpiece and earrings.

“This is all so beautiful, Enzo, thank you,” she says, snapping it shut. She drops it on the table and looks up at me.

“I know this isn’t enough to show you how sorry I’m. I can’t assume to buy your affections with gifts, but I truly am sorry. I’m not just apologizing because I want you to stop being mad, but because I shouldn’t have done what I did,” I say sincerely.

Although my apology is sincere, I’d do it again if I knew for certain it wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass, but now that’s out of the question. I regret I had been on a route that turned out not to be effective; it had only caused problems with her. If there’d been any doubt in my mind this wouldn’t work, I wouldn’t have bothered.

My actions, however, had only set me back on the progress I’d made over the last few, months which is why I took Michael’s suggestion of apologizing and doing whatever I could to secure her forgiveness.

“It’s alright,” I hear her say. “Thanks for putting in the effort. The food is delicious, and I truly appreciate the gift. I forgive you, as long as you promise never to do it again.”

“I wholeheartedly promise,” I assert. The time we’ve spent apart has been torturous to me as I imagined her in the arms of others, possibly receiving comfort while they talk.

I shudder at the thought, my jaw ticking wildly. There’s no way I’d lose her to any of them. I look at her, offering a smile.

“Thanks for forgiving me.” I sit beside her, taking her hands in mine. “How’s your family?”

“Oh, busy as usual, but they’re all fine, trying to make time for me when I’m available,” she says with a wry smile.

“Is your sister still thinking about getting married randomly?” I inquire, and she chuckles.

“I wish the answer was no, but yes. So far, she’s let go of those she doesn’t think will be a perfect fit and the others… well, she’s yet to decide…” she explains with a roll of her eyes.

“I didn’t think this was ever something I’d witness, but here we are,” she chuckles. Her eyes take on a wary note, and she appears deep in thought.

“I’ve been pretty curious and have been meaning to ask awhile now, but I didn’t know if you’d want to talk about it,” she says finally.

“Talk about what?” I ask, now curious.

“Well, we should talk about what happened with your mom. I feel like I don’t know the whole story. A lot of things you do I think ties down to it,” she says.

My eyes glaze over as the memories I try so hard to suppress begin to resurface.

Mom’s lifeless body lays there, blood covering the surface area, spread out from her body like some cruel attempt at artwork. Her eyes are empty, open but not truly seeing. A hand on her chest and the other stretched out like she’d been asking for help moments before she took her last breath.

Dad runs to her, his eyes brimming with tears. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him crumple like this. He picks her in his arms, shaking her as he calls her name over and over, begging her to wake up.

I clasp my hands together, praying that whatever God exists she will, but she doesn’t. her neck lolls to the side and dad puts his fingers to her lids, shutting them. It hits me. She’s gone. I was unable to protect her. There’s nothing worse than the crushing feeling of being unable to protect someone I love.

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