Page 26 of The Holiday Hate-Off
“You can take one of the brooms and go hang it under our storefront sign now. Take your time doing it so you have an excuse to linger outside the café without looking like a total stalker,” he continues. “You know Nonna’s proud of her brooms. She might forgive you for the chaos you caused last night.”
I snort. “She was happy enough to auction us off. She just figured we’d be bought by women who wanted to date us.”
He laughs and claps me on the back. “So do her proud by hitting on a bunch of women while you’re dressed like an old man with a potbelly.”
I get up to leave, but Giovanni grabs my arm before I can pull on my coat.
“I want to know what happened in New York,” he says, his expression uncharacteristically intense.
I pull free and tug on my coat. “My job no longer interested me, so I quit. I’ll find something else when the store’s doing well. No big deal.”
“And your apartment there?”
I rub my chest. “I haven’t decided what to do about that.”
I’m paying thousands a month for an apartment I’m not living in. If I stay here longer than another few weeks, I’ll have to find someone to take over my lease. I have some money put aside, but there’s no reason to blow through my savings justbecause I want the comfort of knowing the apartment’s there. That I can go back to it when I’m ready to.
Even if aching to leave Hideaway Harbor makes me worry that I’m just like my father. Or, worse, my mother.
“I’m only a few years younger than you, Enzo. You don’t have to treat me like I’m Nico. There’s more to the story. You wouldn’t just randomly quit your job like that.”
“But I did. And you’re four years younger.”
“Three and a half.”
I shrug. “Semantics.”
He glares at me. “So you’re not too embarrassed to tell me that you want to crash Santa Speed Dating, but you won’t?—”
“I’m not embarrassed of anything,” I say tightly, feeling the hot pull of shame. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just ready to move on, and the timing was good to come home and help out for a while. Win-fucking-win.”
“You’ve been here all of a week, and you’ve already got me pulling taffy, you asshole.” He sighs, telling me in his way that he’ll let it go, but not forever. “I expect to hear all about New York at some point. You can’t stay Island Enzo forever.”
“Sure, we’ll have a family meeting,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Nico can make appetizers.”
And then I’m out the door.
Hidden Italy’s closed, but I use my key to unlock the door so I can grab one of the brooms from the storage closet. Nonna made them to sell, but she won’t begrudge me hanging one outside.
Within minutes, I’m attaching the thing to the bracket just beneath the boot-shaped sign attached to the side of the brick building at eye level. Mom used to hang pretty dried-flower arrangements in baskets from this bracket, one for every season, but it’s hung empty for years.
Except for this year.
It feels surprisingly good to attach the cinnamon broom to the sign, like I’m reclaiming something, but it takes all of five seconds. There’s no sign of Handbag Guy. So I spend the next several minutes messing around with the broom, pretending I’m trying to get it to some precise, unknowable angle. I feel like apazzo, to be honest, especially since I know Giovanni is watching me from across the street, having a laugh at my expense while he enjoys the warmth of the bar and drinks his beer.
What the fuck am I doing?
I don’t even like Lucy, so why am I putting myself on the line for her? Sneaking into an event I think is ridiculous?
I guess I just don’t know how to give up. Never have. Not since my mother abandoned us when I was ten, leaving my dad with four kids he didn’t know what to do with. My brothers were six and five. My sister was only two.
Not long after that, my grandmother took me aside and said, “You’re going to have to be the man of the house now, Enzo.”
“What about Dad?” I asked, even though I already pretty much knew the answer. My mother had left for a reason, after all.
“He’s my son, God forgive me, but he’s only worth the grandchildren he gave me. And your mother…” She spat on the floor. “She’s just shown us her worth.”
Nonna was right. She’susuallyright. I learned how to be strong from her and my grandfather, who was a much better man than my father.
