Page 91 of Unspoken Promises

“The secret to a good omelet…”

“Is having a great chef?”

“Scottie, I’m teaching you some life skills here. Pay attention.”

The playfulness and tone of his voice is all new. And that adorable nickname? I’m the one who’s cooked now. I’m done.

I sit on a stool at his breakfast bar and lean on my elbows, listening intently even though if I have my way, greedy as it sounds, Enzo will cook for me every morning from here on out. The last few weeks, I haven’t been a fan. I cannot understand why anyone would find it fun. Though I’m pretty sure my impatience with cooking stems around the fact I always wait too long, I’m too hungry, and the time it takes becomes a serious annoyance.

“Obviously you have to crack the eggs first.” He cracks one. Then two… He cocks an eyebrow, teasing me about last night. “You’re not going to make me do all the work, are you?”

I get up and go to his side, immediately feeling the magnetic force between us. I need to let my body settle but I don’t miss that this counter would be a fun place to try. I grab an egg and tap it on the side. It’s a pretty hard shell, so I tap harder, harder, until of course, I splatter the thing on the side of the bowl.

I try to fish out some of the broken shell that falls in but it keeps running away from me. “I’m no Gordon Ramsey.”

Enzo has all the patience in the world. “My mom taught me how to deal with this.” He snatches half of the shell I just broke and dips it in the bowl. “The shell is almost like a magnet. It works better than your finger.”

A warmth spreads through me, but it’s not the kind that makes you happy, it’s the kind that makes you melancholy. I wish the Mendez family still had her. Especially my friend, Luis. What would she have made of me? Maybe not much,given I lied to her son. Then again, I still haven’t given up on being useful to his company.

She would have known how much that means to him.

“So…” I hesitate to ask, because it might open a can of worms, but I have to. “Any news from Rio yesterday? Updates on the hacks?”

The threat of these hacks still looms in the background, though with the attackers making no demands for such a long time, it’s no wonder we’re able to take a day off to play house.

“Uh… yeah…” He turns away from me to look in the fridge but he doesn’t pull anything out.

Is he avoiding eye contact?

He scratches his stubble, and when his gaze lands on me there’s something that wasn’t there before. “There was an employee data breach.”

I try not to let him see my sharp inhale. Could that have been Anton? My mind swirls with thousands of horrible thoughts. Now, I know I need to tell Enzo more than ever before, but it’s also scarier than yesterday.

I lied to him. And it’s possible his system was compromised again because of me. Because of Anton? He couldn’t have. How could I have spent years with him and not notice he was a hacker? It’s not the kind of thing you can get good at without spending a lot of time behind a computer. He wasneverbehind a computer.

I’m speechless and yet I have to muster up something. “Unless the team up there figured it out, I’ll add it to my list.”

He considers me deeply. Does he know?

“Yeah. We’d better.” Enzo swirls the pan of oil, which looks hot, so he cracks more eggs, chops herbs, and adds them along with seasoning, then pours it all into the fryingpan, giving it another swirl. He’s an expert. “Four employees reported it. There could be more though I’d like to think any others would have reported by now.”

Am I even going to be able to eat this omelet? The details are pouring on thick, and with every moment I pretend that text was from Pen, I seem to fall down a deeper and deeper hole, but just as I had to practice so many times before in my life, I act normal.

He finishes off our breakfast and plates it up, one big omelet, on one big plate with two forks.

We dig in, having totally skipped any sort of eating other than each other last night.

“Mmm. The fresh herbs…” I say, pointing to the plate because I want him to think it’s delicious instead of telling him my taste buds aren’t even working any more.

“Makes all the difference.”

We eat in silence, stealing occasional glances at one another. I offer a chipmunk smile, and he gives me the cutest wink. I didn’t think Enzo would ever wink, but damn is he panty-dropping when he does. I love this simple life. Enzo has me rewording those three wishes constantly. I want this life more than anything.

My heart swoops, and I place my fork down and search for the tips of his fingers so I can touch him.

I won’t let anything ruin us. I have to make this all right. Maybe I should go back to making myself useful. I’ll find the source of the hacks. I’ll find out who took those numbers yesterday, even if it leads to Anton.

Then, and only then, I’ll beg for his forgiveness for lying.

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