LOGINThe week after Amanda was soft. There was no other word for it. Enzo stayed in Maplewood. There in the mornings sometimes, he goes to New York for a day or two, back again. A rhythm that had established itself without either of us designing it.He was different.Or maybe I was finally seeing clearly enough to see what had been different for a while. He talked more. Not about work, he'd always talked about work, but about other things. Small things. Something funny that had happened with his driver on the way from the city. A memory from years ago that surfaced .He'd spent years, maybe his whole adult life, being extremely deliberate about what he revealed and to whom. There was the professional Enzo and the private Enzo and the private one had been kept so carefully that even I, six years married to him, had sometimes felt like I was standing just outside a door that was never quite fully open.The door was open now.I was also more trusting now, but the instinct to protect myself w
The call came on a Friday evening.I was at the library, almost at the end of my shift. I was turning off lights at the back when my phone buzzed and his name appeared on the screen and I felt something loosen in my chest that I hadn't even realized I'd been holding tight.I answered."It's handled," he said. "She's leaving."I stood in the half-dark library with one hand on the light switch and let those three words sink in."Leaving as in…""Her father arranged it. She's going back to London. She has projects there, apparently, that require her attention now that his support of them is dependent on her being on another continent." A pause. "His words, not mine.""Mr. Collins is thorough.""He is. Apparently, he knows his daughter enough to realize she won’t stop until he threatens to cut her off financially." Something in his voice was quieter than usual. "It's done, Elena. The investors are all back," he exhaled. "It's done."I turned the light off.Stood in the dark for a moment.
The meeting was Enzo's idea.He told me about it the morning after the library incident, over coffee at my kitchen counter."I'm going to see her father," he said.I looked up from my mug. "Mr. Collins.""Yes.""Does he know you're coming?""I called yesterday and he agreed to meet." He turned his own mug slowly. "He sounded unsurprised. Almost like he knew this was coming."I thought about that. "What are you going to say?""Everything." He said. "All of it. How it started, what I agreed to, why, what's been happening since. I'm not going to manage it or package it. Just the full tru
The thing about small towns was that strangers stood out.Maplewood was not unfriendly to new faces, it was too warm a place for that, but it noticed them. By the time Amanda had walked from wherever she'd parked to the front door of the library, at least four people had clocked her, noted her, and filed her away for later discussion. I found this out afterwards, of course. In the moment, I had no warning.One minute I was helping a patron locate a book on Victorian architecture that we definitely had but had been incorrectly shelved. The next minute the library door opened and it felt like the air changed.I turned around.She looked different outside of New York. In the restaurant she'd been in her element, polished and predatory on familiar ground. Here, in a small to
I didn’t tell Enzo I was going to come to the office when he left home this morning. I wanted it to be a surprise and I wasn’t kidding about being in this with him.His assistant didn't know what to do with me.She was young, efficient, with the composure of someone trained to manage unexpected arrivals without revealing that they were unexpected. She looked at me across the reception desk of Wayne Industries with a carefully neutral expression and said, "Do you have an appointment?""No," I said pleasantly. "I'm his wife."Something shifted in her face. Not surprise exactly, more like she was thinking of what specific protocol was required."Mrs. Wayne," she said, and her entire manner changed immediately. "He's in a meeting right now but I can…""How long?"She glanced at her screen. "It should be wrapped up in about ten minutes.""I'll wait," I said, and sat down on the sleek sofa in the reception area. I crossed my legs and looked around at the space Enzo had built.I'd been here
Three days passed.Enzo and I weren't in a bad place exactly. We weren't in a good place either. We existed somewhere in the careful middle ground of two people who had things left to say to each other and had agreed, to hold those things temporarily while a more immediate problem demanded attention.He texted. I responded. We spoke on the phone twice about Amanda's latest moves, his lawyers, and the investors. I was back in Maplewood. He was in New York.Maya texted on Tuesday night: how is he doingI typed and deleted three different responses before settling on: handling itWhich was true and also not the full truth.
Judy dropped me off in front of my house and tapped the steering wheel like she wanted to drag out every detail from my head but she was restraining herself.“As much as I want to sit here and drag the entire gist out of you,” she said, “I have to run. It’s your day off anyway. I’ll come back tonig
For the next two days, I did the only thing I knew how to do whenever things were out of control.I avoided everyone.I ignored Enzo completely, his calls, his messages, I left it all unread. I didn’t have the strength to deal with whatever version of him would show up on the other side of that con
By the next morning, I had made exactly one decision,I was getting my old car back.It didn’t matter how shiny or expensive that blue Lexus was. I wasn’t going to let Enzo bulldoze his way into my life with gifts I never asked for. Especially gifts that would only complicate things with Nathan.I
I was glad Enzo left town.Honestly? I hoped he wouldn’t come back.When I really thought about it, Nathan and I never used to fight, not like this. But ever since Enzo returned to Maplewood, it felt like every argument was based on him. Somehow, in one way or another, he always caused it.The libr







