Page 145 of The Holiday Hate-Off
LUCY
The beautiful, dreamy Christmas feeling that’s hung over the last few weeks is gone. It’s like I’ve woken up and found myself in some horrible dystopian landscape a masochist decided to decorate.
It’s Friday afternoon, and there’s no sign of Enzo. I haven’t even talked to him since Wednesday.
All I know is this: He left a voice message on my phone yesterday afternoon saying he’d call me later, something that didn’t happen. But hedidcall the café. He left a message with Wayne, who covered the phones so Eileen and I could go check on Audrey next door.
“Sounds like he got the job but wasn’t planning on taking it,” Wayne said. “I couldn’t hear him properly, though. It’s possible he said, ‘I’mdefinitelytaking it.’”
“That is very unhelpful, Wayne,” Eileen said disapprovingly, to which he shrugged.
“Not one thing I can do about my hearing.”
He said this while wearing a switched-off hearing aid in his ear, but I was too emotional to make a retort.
Thursday evening, a text came through from Enzo, and Inearly dropped my phone and gave it another spiderweb crack when I saw it: a photo of Enzo wearing a Santa suit, with a text saying,At my new job, Lucia.
I waved my phone at Eileen almost hysterically. “Does this mean he took it?”
“And they made him dress up as Santa before sending him along to fire people?” Eileen asked. “I wouldn’t put it past those New York types, but it would beexceptionallycruel, and I’m not convinced it makes sense.”
“Maybe he’s three sheets to the wind,” Wayne suggested unhelpfully. “Or four.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like the type who’d think it was fun to wander around looking like an idiot.”
“Wait right here,” Eileen told me, her expression firm. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
She returned minutes later with Giovanni. But he hadn’t heard from Enzo either, and neither had Nico or Nonna Francesca.
Giovanni was sweet, and I spilled all my concerns about Enzo to him.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this, Lucy,” he said, patting my hand. “Don’t you worry. But I’ll tell you this. Enzo wouldn’t take that job without talking to any of us. I know my brother. He’d ask them for time to think about it. And then he’d do the right thing and sayno. He’s crazy about you. I’ve never seen him happier than he is with you.”
That had made me feel better, but I still finished my shift in a daze. Eileen asked me if I wanted to go home with her to crochet and make hot chocolate, but I said no.
Instead, I wandered to the Wishing Bridge.
This time I only wished for Enzo, with all my might, sitting at the edge of the bridge and throwing tiny stones over the side—until someone yelped.
Apparently the frigid weather hadn’t made it less of a make-out spot.
My landline rang right after I walked through my front door. I lunged to answer it, certain the Wishing Bridge had worked its magic, but it was Charlie, calling because she was worried about me.
I lied and said I was fine, then called Enzo’s number three times. Nothing. So I took a sleeping pill and fell into an uneasy sleep, only to wake up at three in the morning.
I instantly reached for my cell phone and found a message from his number:
Men are better off without women. Period. Women lie and they cheat and they hold men back. They’re all like Shannon, and he’s better off without you. Sorry, but that’s true.
I texted back multiple questions marks, but there was no response. The message obviously wasn’t from Enzo. Even if he was drunk, he wouldn’t say something like that and mean it.
So who had his phone?
Had something happened to him?
Or had he gone out drinking to celebrate his new job, and one of his friends had written me a kiss-off?
I didn’t sleep any more that night, but I couldn’t focus on anything, my mind skittering around like a wet spider.
Today has passedin a horrible haze. Because there’s a CLOSED sign in Hidden Italy’s window, Nonna Francesca isn’t at home, and Giovanni’s cell phone isn’t ringing.
