LOGINIt’s been four days since the Wednesday dinner, and I am still not myself.It probably wouldn’t be visible to people that didn’t know me, but for someone like Enzo, it was impossible to hide from him. I could see the effort he put into not pushing for me to share, whatever it was that was making me pull away. I appreciated it, and it was also making everything harder.It was Saturday morning, Enzo was at my apartment because we'd planned to go to the farmers market. We had breakfast.I was present enough to answer questions and pour coffee and perform the basic tasks, but something on my face must have shown exactly the kind of pressure I was putting on myself, because he was looking at me like he was running out of patience. "Elena," he said."Mm.""What did I do?"I turned to look at him.He was holding the dishtowel and looking at me."Nothing," I said."Something is wrong. It's been days, and you're…" he stopped, then continued, "...you're here, but you're not here. And I've bee
It was a Wednesday.I remember that specifically because Wednesday had become our dinner night. He cooked. He always cooked when we were at his place, which was fine with me because Enzo in a kitchen is one of my favorite things and a perk of being in a relationship with him. He cooked the way he did everything he cared about, with full attention and the results were extraordinary in a way that made my own efforts little.Tonight was pasta again. This one is different from the last one, something with a sauce that had been simmering long enough to make the whole apartment smell like somewhere in Italy.I was sitting at the kitchen island watching him finish it, wine in hand, enjoying the view.I'd been working up to it all week.Telling him.After the conversation about Felicia, after the days of quiet and the evening on the couch where he'd held me without asking anything, after thinking about everything thoroughly, I'd arrived at a decision.He needed to know.The pregnancy was the
The thing about carrying something heavy was that you got used to the weight.I'd been carrying the story of the hospital for five years and in that story Enzo had known. He'd known and made a choice and that choice had been the final confirmation of everything I'd believed about where I ranked in his life. That was the version I knew and held on to. This new version had me rethinking everything I thought I knew.This version had a woman named Patricia making decisions she had no right to make, and Enzo in an office somewhere not knowing.I didn't know what to do with this version.So I did what I always did with things I didn't know what to do with.I went quiet.It wasn’t even intentional, it just happened that way. Less talking at dinner, more time working and reading. Enzo noticed soon enough.We were at my apartment, Tuesday evening, finishing dinner, and I was doing the thing where I thought I was hiding, sitting across from him with my fork moving but my head somewhere else e
It started as a perfectly ordinary conversation.We were at his place, a quiet Sunday evening, the kind that had become familiar enough that I'd stopped noticing how comfortable I was in his space. He was on the couch with his laptop doing something he'd described as just a quick look that had already consumed forty minutes, and I was in the armchair with my book.He closed the laptop eventually.Stretched, rolled his shoulders, and smiled at me."Tell me something that has nothing to do with work," I said, without looking up from my book."I've been thinking about expanding the Hong Kong office.""That's work.""It's also geography."
The 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.
My heart started racing. “What kind of proposition?”He leaned forward, elbow on his knee, looking at me intensely.“Give me one month,” he said.I blinked. “What?”“Thirty days,” he continued. “Let me take you out. Cook for you. Show you what we could be now, not who we were five years ago, but wh
I stood in the doorway of my apartment, staring at the space I’d avoided for over a week.It looked exactly the same. Same couch, same bookshelves. It felt different though, probably because I wasn’t the same person.“You sure you’re ready?” Judy asked behind me, carrying a bag of my stuff from her
The second date happened three days later, and I spent every single one of those days trying not to think about Enzo.I failed spectacularly.At work, I caught myself staring at my phone, waiting for his texts. In the shower, I replayed the moment outside the diner when he'd asked to kiss me. At ni
The words hung between us.Rosie appeared with our food, breaking the moment. She set down the burgers and the milkshake with a wink."You two enjoy," she said, walking away.I looked down at the milkshake, one glass, two straws, just like we used to share.Enzo noticed me staring."Too much?" he a







