My breath caught. Approaching us were Dorothy and Madeline, two familiar, prim figures from my old church circle. Their eyes widened almost simultaneously as they took in his grip on me, the obvious tension. Dorothy let out a tiny, audible gasp, quickly masked by a cough, while Madeline’s lips thinned into a line of disapproval. They exchanged urgent, low whispers,pointedly averting their gazes as they gave us a wide berth and hurried on their way. A wave of mortification washed over me.
“What are they saying about you?” He frowned from them back to me, his green eyes narrowed.
I yanked free and sneered. “I’m the woman who left her fiance days before the wedding to marry another man, only to wound up divorced. They’re going to be talking about me forever in this town.”
He motioned toward the direction Dorothy and Madeline headed. “Is this how people have treated you since you’ve been back?”
My chin trembled, and I clenched my jaw. “All thanks to you.”
The green drained from his face, leaving him ashen. Understanding dawned in his eyes, the full weight of what his actions had wrought. “Gemma…” he whispered my name, a broken plea.
I closed the space between us, keeping my tone low. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To break me.” My voice trembled. I struggled to breathe. “Well, I’m broken… my dignity, my reputation in this town. Don’t you dare think you can come here and fix the hell you’ve created.”
Ignoring his sudden paleness and the moisture pooling in his eyes, I turned and ran. I wouldn’t look back. I wouldn’t! I braced for the tears, but nothing came. My eyes had been bone-dry for months. Good. I refuse to waste one more tear on Psycho, anyway.
???
I assumed my little run-in with Enzo sent him packing on his jet back to Italy. I was wrong. The next day, while reading a picture book to my class, a gentle tap on the door stole my attention. Chloe set up the fingerpaint table in the yard, leaving me to finish story time. I glanced over my shoulder, and myheart fluttered at the sight of him behind the glass panel. He hadn’t gotten the message at the restaurant, and from the rapid pulsing at my neck, neither had my traitorous heart. A good thing we’d bumped into Dorothy and Madeline. Their whispers ignited a fresh resentment toward Enzo.
He held up a bouquet of red roses, like some lovesick teenager. He waggled his eyebrows, waiting for a reaction.
He was going to get one, all right. “Listen up, kiddos,” I raised my voice… a little too loud. “Remember what we talked about? About people we don’t know?”
A few heads bobbed. Little Thomas, who’d been chewing on his own shoelace, peered up with a wide, innocent gaze.
I closed the book in my lap, the thin paperback clenched tight in my grip. “Does anyone know the man at the door or is he…?” I gasped in mock horror, holding a hand over my mouth. “A stranger?”
Every head swiveled toward the door. A few kids started whispering, pointing at Enzo. Thomas, bless his little heart, jumped up, grabbed a foam block, and pegged it at the glass. “Stranger! Stranger!” he shrieked, jumping up and down. As if prompting the others, the rest of them jumped to their feet and joined Thomas in his chanting.
Enzo whitened and stumbled backward. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. A satisfied smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. He hightailed it out of there so fast. I bet not even the De Lucas scared him as much as my little mob.
Later in the evening, I found the same bouquet on my doorstep. I didn’t hesitate. I stomped on those roses with every ounce of pent-up anger and frustration, grinding the petals into the rug until they were a pulpy, unrecognizable mess. I imagined it was Enzo’s heart I crushed, and a rush of satisfaction flooded my veins as I dumped the bouquet in the garbage bins out front. He hid somewhere outside my apartment. I just knew it. Lethim watch. For extra sting, I dusted my hands after disposing of the mangled remains. Hopefully, he witnessed my opinion of his gesture.
The next evening, I was at the community center for Bible study with my fellowship group. Our small group gathered in a circle, each with a cup of tea and plate of biscuits at our feet. Glen, our leader, opened in prayer, and for a moment, I felt at peace. I should have known it wouldn’t last.
“Hey everyone,” Glen beamed, his gaze trained behind us. “We have a new face with us tonight. This is Enzo.”
I grappled for my Bible as it almost slipped off my lap.No way, absolutely no way!Not here.Not him. Not after everything I’d done to rebuild my life.
“Is this seat free?” His masculine timbre echoed above my head.
I stiffened. He stood beside me, his mere presence sending a shiver of unwanted attraction down my spine. I risked a glance. The way his navy chinos hugged his thighs, the way his white shirt strained across his chest… Why did he have to be so handsome all the time? The rekindled warmth of his body against my own when we’d kissed in front of my father’s place saturated my mind. I shook my head, banishing the memory of his lips, hot and demanding on mine, the feel of his arms pulling me closer, tighter.
Tucked in his other hand was the marriage devotional, the one I’d left in Italy, the one that had accompanied so many tear-stained nights. Had he forgotten to pack it the day he shipped me off, or kept it for himself?
Clutching my own Bible to my torso before I did something stupid like whack him with the hardcover again, I lurched to my full height, ineffectual against his tall frame. I tipped my chin, putting on my best glare. “Be my guest.” I turned to Glen and the others in my small group. “Sorry, guys. I just remembered Imade plans tonight.” Gathering my purse, I stormed out of the room and gripped the handle before slamming the door behind me, creating a loud echo.
The air still hung heavy with the petrichor from last night’s rain, matching the storm brewing inside me. Bad enough humiliation had compelled me to find a new church. Now Enzo rolled into my fellowship like an unwanted plague. I bet to ruin the fresh start I worked so hard to rebuild these last few months.
Bobby, a harmless local who always skateboarded these streets late at night, skidded to a stop in front of me. And like every other night, he asked the same question. “Gemz, luv, got a dollar?”
“Gemma!” Enzo called from a fair distance.
“I’ll give you twenty if you pretend to be my boyfriend,” I all but begged Bobby.
He shook his head, eyes wide, waiting for me to elaborate, but I didn’t have a chance because Enzo now stood in front of us.
“Why’d you leave?” he demanded, thumbing behind him at the community center.
