Page 44 of The Enforcer

I turn toward the door fully and frown. I could lie to her and tell her that I forgot. I could make something up right now and pretend I’d been giving it some serious thought all night. But again, lying is not one of my strengths. “I was worried about getting you here safely; that’s it. I haven’t had time to think beyond that. I’m terrible at making plans. And lying. I’m especially bad at lying to my family.”

She sighs, and then her face disappears from the crack in the door. I’d assumed — hoped — that she was naked because…why not? But when she moves, I can see the striped dress she’s wearing off the shoulder, and I frown, but I keep looking.

She sighs again. “Fine,” Zoe says and then pulls the door open. I blink up at her. The dress is loose around her body and falls to her feet, but if you look hard enough — and I do — you can see the edges of the curves I felt last night.

She glares at me with serious intent, her lush mouth in a set line and her hands on her ample hips. “Then just follow my lead.”

She stomps out of the shed and moves to stand next to me.

I turn in a circle to keep her in my sight at all times, for obvious reasons and some not so obvious. “Certo,” I say absentmindedly. In that moment, I think I would do anything she wanted, follow her anywhere.

I jump at her unexpected touch. I look down to see her holding my hand, our palms pressed tight and fingers laced together.

“We have to convince her,” Zoe says, her eyes searching mine for understanding. “If your mother’s anything like mine, she’s been waiting for this, and if we convince her, then everyone else will believe this sham is real.”

I nod silently at her, but I don’t speak.

I really don’t like to lie, but I’m not so in love with the truth, either, especially not when telling Zoe the truth would mean her taking her hand from my grasp.

If this plan fails, at least I’ll know what it feels like to stand shoulder to shoulder with Zoe, her warm skin touching mine.

Zoe

On a scale of one to Dedicated Therapy Fund, Alfonso’s mother seems like a solid Dodge Her Calls on Weekdays kind of mom, and I respect that energy. My mother is very similar, although she fluctuates between that and Aggressive Social Media Helicopter Mom, but that’s mostly because I travel a lot for work.

The point is that I’m used to this kind of overbearing but ultimately caring maternal energy, and even though I can’t understand a word she’s saying, I know to nod and accept every plate of food she offers me.

In fact, not understanding actually makes it easier.

She speaks to me in slow, simple Italian hoping that she will stumble on the right combination of cadence and simplicity for me to understand her more complex thoughts, hoping to bridge the space between her limited English and my nonexistent Italian. She won’t, so I hurt my cheek muscles smiling and chewing her food appreciatively.

Alfonso translates for her, but we’ve devised a system.

Alfonso’s mother asks me a question. Alfonso pops a bit of bread or a piece of fruit into his mouth so he cannot translate quickly, slowing down the pace of her interrogation — and then he translates into English what she’s asked. But underneath the table, his hand rests on my thigh. If he wants me to answer honestly, he pats my leg. If he wants me to lie, he squeezes lightly.

We pass a surprisingly lovely morning in his mother’s kitchen that way. Maria’s food is even better fresh, and she practically beams when I nudge Alfonso to tell her how much I enjoyed the leftovers we took from Nicola last night. When she hears that, she yells into the garden for Ugo to bring her some cedro citron and begins to make yet another dish for lunch. I don’t know how many people are coming for the meal, but we definitely won’t be spoiled for choice.

If I’d met her under any other circumstances, I would have begged to be set up with one of her sons. I even enjoy Alfonso’s hand on my leg, but that’s neither here nor there. I start to think that if this is what it’ll be like to be stashed away in a gorgeous Italian beach town, I might give Alfonso some slack. Besides the stairs, I think I can survive this place.

But then Alfonso’s youngest brother Dario arrives, and everything kind of goes off the rails.

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