Chapter 3 – Enya
I drop my keys into the ceramic dish by the front door, the one Kai made for me during a pottery class we took two years ago. It’s lopsided and has a crack on one side, but I’ve never stopped using it. He said imperfections are what make things worth holding onto.
The apartment smells like garlic and lemons. A cozy scent that wraps around you the second you step inside. The lights are low and golden, just the way I like them.
Soft jazz drifts from the kitchen, piano and trumpet, smooth and easy. The playlist is curated, just like everything in this place. Just the way Kai likes it.
Kai is at the stove, his sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, forearms flexing as he stirs a pot of sauce like he belongs in an old Italian film. For a second, it’s like nothing outside these walls exists.
“You’re home late, sunshine,” he says, smiling over his shoulder.
“Sorry.” I toe off my shoes. “Rough day. I’m so hungry.”
He nods. “You have no idea how good that sounds. Sit down. Food’s almost ready.”
I hang up my coat, drape my bag over the back of the couch, and walk into the kitchen. He leans over the pot and tastes the sauce with a wooden spoon, nodding to himself like he’s just won an award. His kitchen is neat. Stainless steel, black marble, and spotless. An open cookbook sits on the counter beside a bottle of red wine and a candle that is already burning.
“Glass?” he asks, gesturing to the wine.
“God, yes.”
He pours and hands me one. I take it and sit at the small breakfast nook tucked into the corner of the kitchen, watching him move.
“How bad was it?” he asks.
I sigh. “We were at the park, and Ren was running too fast…. He didn’t see the edge of the stone path. He fell…hard and hit his forehead. There was a lot of blood. Crying. Screaming. Ugh.”
He winces. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine now. I cleaned it up, iced it, got him calm again. But….” I shake my head. “It was a lot.”
Kai brings over two bowls of pasta, sitting across from me. The sauce smells amazing—garlicky, rich, and comforting.
“And then,” I add, digging into it, “Cyril Carfano showed up.”
Kai lifts an eyebrow, mild curiosity evident on his face. “The dad?”
“Yeah. He doesn’t usually show up during the day. I’ve barely seen him since I started.”
“What’s he like?”
I try to remember this morning. “Dominating, I guess…like he just walked into the room, and it stopped breathing. Not cruel. Just…intense. Like every move he makes is well-planned, and nothing escapes his attention. He didn’t yell, though, which is a good thing. Didn’t even raise his voice, actually. But the way he looked at me? God, it was like being under a microscope.”
Kai nods, chewing thoughtfully. “Carfano,” he says slowly. “That name sounds familiar.”
I shrug, reaching for my wine. “He’s some hotshot, I think. I don’t even really know what he does, honestly.”
“With people like him, it’s better not to get into the details,” Kai replies.
I nod. “Whatever. He’s…intimidating. But Ren adores him.”
Kai’s brow furrows for a second, lips pressed together. Then, he leans back and wipes his mouth with a cloth napkin. He doesn’t overreact. Just listens. And that’s what I love most about him. No controlling questions or possessive nerves. He lets me talk, lets me breathe, and never tries to fix things I haven’t asked him to. He lets me be.
“Was he respectful?”
“As respectful as a guy like him can get.”
I laugh a little, trying to shake off the nervousness, but the memory lingers. How Carfano’s eyes held mine, how he didn’t blink, and how his presence felt like standing too close to a cliff.
Kai reaches across the table and wraps his hand around mine. Warm. Steady.
“You did good,” he says. “Some men lead with fear. You meet them with calm.”
I squeeze his fingers. “You always make me feel like I can handle anything.”
He smiles, slow and sure. “That’s because you can.”
I swallow the guilt. It’s small, tucked away. But it’s there. This man across from me has been nothing but supportive.
“You’re everything I need,” I murmur.
“And you,” he says, lifting my hand to kiss my knuckles, “are everything I never knew I wanted.”
After dinner, we move to the couch. I pull my legs beneath me, still nursing the second half of my wine. Kai loosens his tie the rest of the way and stretches out beside me, one arm along the back of the couch.
He grabs the remote and turns on Netflix. We scroll without thinking and settle on Love is Blind, which we’ve already half-watched. The volume’s low, and the show is more of a background noise than anything. Something about the familiar opening always makes the apartment feel like home.
A throw blanket ends up over both our laps, and I nibble on a leftover piece of garlic bread while Kai comments about the potential couples and which ones won’t make it. This is our routine when Kai isn’t buying, which doesn’t happen often. It’s simple, quiet, and full of tiny domestic rituals that somehow feel like anchors.
He tells me about his day of closing a massive property deal in SoHo.
“Luxury apartments,” he says, “tucked above retail fronts. Discreet and high-end. Old money type of place. One handshake sealed the deal.”
“Just one?” I tease. “You must be magic.”
He grins. “It’s all about trust. And knowing who needs what before they say it.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not. But I work hard so we can have the life you deserve.”
I lean into him. “One day, I’m going to find out you’re secretly a Bond villain.”
He chuckles. “Please. I’m far too charming to be the villain.”
“Says every villain ever.”
He presses a light kiss on my head. “I’m the good guy, Enya. Always have been.”
I smile, resting my head on his shoulder. It’s soft here. Safe. Perfect.
But somewhere, in the back of my mind, Ren’s laugh drifts through, a flash of sunlight on the grass, his tiny hand squeezing mine, and the wobble in his voice after the fall. I think about how quiet he was after, how small he looked in my arms. And Cyril. He was watching us like he wasn’t sure what to make of it all.
Kai and I lie there for a while, legs tangled beneath the blanket, my head resting on his chest. His hand moves slowly up and down my arm in a rhythm I’ve grown used to. The TV is still playing in the background, voices murmuring through half-hearted drama. It’s soft and warm in here, like it always is.
My thoughts go back to Ren’s wide, frightened eyes as he held his forehead and whimpered against my shirt. The iron in Cyril Carfano’s silence, the kind of power that doesn’t raise its voice because it doesn’t need to.
To how, somehow, both of them, son and father, have taken up space in my head without consent.
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Kai murmurs, his voice soft against my hair.
I shift a little, still curled against him. “Just…thinking about Ren. His dad. The whole day felt strange.”
Kai kisses my temple, warm and slow.
“That’s why I kept asking you to quit,” he murmurs. “Told you I’d take care of everything. You don’t need to get caught up in their mess. Just stay the way you are.”
Kai has told me to quit my job numerous times, offered to pay my student loans. But I couldn’t do that to him.
What would I even do in my free time?
“The way I am?” I whisper.
“Soft. Golden.” His voice wraps around me like the blanket does.
I let my eyes fall shut. His hand doesn’t stop moving, slow and rhythmic, across my arm.
I believe every word he says.
I feel safe. Wanted.
His arm stays around me, and I let myself sink into it, every part of me softening under the quiet rustle of the city just beyond these walls. I shift slightly, the blanket brushing my chin, and the low buzz of the TV feels like a lullaby.
This is what it’s supposed to feel like, isn’t it?
Safe. Simple. Loved.
I have the perfect man. I tell myself as my eyes drift closed. The kind who would never hurt me.