Page 138 of The Holiday Hate-Off
“Yeah,” he says, shrugging. “But I don’thaveto take the interview. I don’t have to do anything.”
I can tell he wants to, though. I saw the ambition flash across his face when he listened to that message this morning.
He was so distracted at the woolen sock race that he barely seemed pissed off when Hudson won.
Afterward, we watched the fireworks with his brothers, Charlie, and a few other friends, but his mind was somewhere else. He was thinking about leaving…
Now, we’re back in my apartment, drinking a final glass of wine at my small table, but he’s still thinking about it.
“Don’t be stubborn over this,” I say. “It’s a big opportunity. They want to do things your way. You could make a real difference.”
The conflict is written all over his beautiful, sculpted face. He wants this, bad. But he also doesn’t want to leave me.
I’m grateful for that, but at the same time…
He’s going to take the job, ultimately.
He’d be a fool to say no, because Enzo is ambitious and talented, and he’s right. If he stayed here without some other job to do, he’d be bored and unfulfilled. Eventually, he’d resent me.
I know this because…
I’m ashamed to admit it, even to myself, but even though I loved my mother with my whole being, even though I was grateful that I was able to be there for her…
I wanted to be like Charlie, able to travel anywhere at the drop of a hat. I wanted to date inappropriate men and make stupid decisions, and act my age.
But I didn’t, and I resented my mom for it sometimes—and resented myself for feeling that way, because I knew it wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t chosen to be sick any more than anyone could choose their natural hair color. It had all been a game of genetics that she’d lost, badly.
I don’t want him to resent me.
I don’t want him to wake up every morning and wonder what his life would have been like if only he’d taken the opportunity presented to him.
“Please,” I say, my voice faint. “You have to go.”
“I’ll call him in the morning,” he insists. “I’m not sure I’m interested, though. I have some other ideas I want to pursue.”
“Enzo, this is what you wanted. I remember what you wrote in your notes. I can’t take you from your dream.”
He reaches for my hand, and I give it to him, my heart lodged in my throat, choking me.
“Dreams change,cara. But maybe they’d let me work remotely part of the time. I have to go back to New York anyway to pack the rest of my things.”
I nod, but it’s hard to believe what he’s saying. It already feels like he’s being pulled up by the roots he’s been regrowing here.
“Will you come with me?” he asks. “To New York?”
I consider the possibility, and I can almost see it. I wanted adventure, and everyone says New York City has a unique charm at this time of year. Everything’s so big and bright. So…spectacular. But my heart aches at the thought of leaving, and besides, I’ve already taken the weekend off at the coffee shop.
I shake my head. “I can’t. I can’t leave right now.”
I meant to say I can’t leave Eileen in a lurch, but the last words didn’t come out. Because the truth is I can’t leave Hideaway Harbor.
I’ve always wanted it to be my home, ever since I first stepped foot here, and this past month, it’s started to feel like it finally is.
He doesn’t argue with me. Instead, he makes love to me with quiet intensity, as if he feels it too—the crux in the road we’ve been walking.
Enzo’s interviewis set for Wednesday.
He doesn’t talk about it after making the arrangements, and neither do I, but it seems to hang over everything like ominous clouds. It hails on Tuesday morning, which feels like a bad omen.
