17. Adriana
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Adriana
I find out what he did three days later.
I’m at Amelia’s place, the way I am most afternoons now, the two of us on her couch with coffee gone lukewarm while I tell her about the café.
The whole thing. Rafael showing up drunk and unshaven, the begging, the “be a good dad” that made his face go blank, the way Enzo stood between us with that flat, dangerous calm.
I’ve been carrying it around for three days and it feels good to set it down in front of someone who’s known me long enough to hear all of it.
“So he doesn’t know,” Amelia says when I finish. “About Viviana.”
“He didn’t seem to.”
“God, that family.” She shakes her head, and then her face does the thing it does when she’s sitting on something. Careful. Like she’s about to deliver bad news and isn’t sure she should.
“What,” I say.
“Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Amelia. What.”
She sets her cup down. “Rafael’s been blacklisted.”
I frown. “What do you mean, blacklisted?”
“I mean he’s suddenly not welcome anywhere.
The Fontana party last night? Uninvited.
The charity gala next week? Off the list. Even the club, you know, the one his family’s been members of for three generations?
They’re ‘reviewing his membership status.’” She makes air quotes.
“Which is rich-people speak for ‘you’re out.’”
“How is that possible? The Vitales have been…”
“It’s not the Vitales doing it. It’s Enzo.”
The words hit me like cold water.
“What?”
“He made calls. Apparently a lot of calls. To a lot of people who owe him favors or want to stay on his good side.” Amelia shrugs. “You know how it works. Enzo says ‘I’d consider it a personal favor if Rafael Vitale wasn’t at your event,’ and suddenly Rafael’s not at anyone’s events.”
I sit back. Try to process.
“When did this start?”
“From what I can tell? Right after that café thing you just told me about. The day Rafael showed up drunk.” She pauses. “You said Enzo threatened him. Told him to back off or he’d make his life small.”
“I didn’t think he meant it literally.”
“Apparently he did.”
I should feel grateful. Protected. Rafael was harassing me, and Enzo stepped in to make sure it stopped.
But that’s not what I feel.
What I feel is a slow burn of anger starting in my chest.
“He didn’t tell me,” I say.
“Would you have wanted him to?”
“That’s not the point. The point is he did something that affects my life, my divorce, my whole situation with Rafael, without even mentioning it. Without asking if that’s what I wanted.”
“Would you have said yes?”
“I don’t know! Maybe! But it should have been my choice.”
Amelia watches me carefully. “You’re really upset about this.”
“Of course I’m upset. My whole life, other people have run it for me.
My father picked who I married. Rafael picked when it was over.
Nobody ever once turned to me and asked what I actually wanted.
” I stand up, start pacing. “And now Enzo’s doing it too.
Reaching into my life and rearranging it while I’m not looking, like I’m a kid who can’t be trusted with the sharp things. ”
“He was trying to help.”
“I know he was trying to help. That’s what makes it worse.
” I press my hands to my face. “He doesn’t even see it.
He thinks he’s being a good, I don’t know, boyfriend?
Partner? Whatever we are. He thinks he’s taking care of me.
But what he’s actually doing is treating me like I can’t take care of myself. ”
Amelia is quiet for a moment. Then: “Are you going to talk to him about it?”
“I’m going to do more than talk.”
***
I drive back across the city with my hands tight on the wheel, the anger sitting heavier the closer I get. By the time I let myself into the apartment, I’ve run the conversation in my head four different ways and hated all of them.
He’s in the living room, reading something on his tablet.
He looks up when I come in. Smiles. “Hey. How was Amelia?”
“Informative.”
The smile fades. He sets down the tablet. “What’s wrong?”
“Rafael’s been blacklisted. From everywhere. Because you made calls.”
His expression doesn’t change. That’s how I know he was expecting this.
“Yes.”
No denial. No excuse. Just yes, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Were you going to tell me?”
“I was going to mention it.”
“When? After he’s completely ruined? After everyone in our world knows you’re the one who did it? When exactly were you planning to loop me in on decisions that affect my life?”
“It doesn’t affect your life. It affects Rafael’s social standing.”
“Which affects my divorce. Which affects how people see me. Which affects everything.” I’m shaking now, anger and something else I can’t name. “That was mine to deal with, Enzo. You don’t get to reach in and rearrange it because you think you know better.”
“He was harassing you.”
“And I was handling it!”
“You call that handling it? He showed up drunk and grabbed for your arm.” He sets the tablet aside fully now, leaning forward, and there’s no guilt in his face at all.
That’s the part that gets me. He thinks he’s in the right.
“He won’t be turning up at your school or your café again, because every door he likes to walk through just shut in his face.
He leaves you alone now. That’s the outcome you wanted. So tell me where the crime is.”
“The crime is you didn’t ask me.”
“Ask permission to keep you safe?”
“Yes.” It comes out louder than I mean it to.
“You looked at my situation and you decided what should happen and you made it happen, and the first I heard of any of it was from Amelia over cold coffee. I shut Rafael down myself. I told him no, I walked away. That was me handling it. And you went behind me anyway, because you already knew I’d tell you not to. ”
“Because I knew you’d say no.” His jaw is tight. “I don’t see why solving it is the thing I’m getting yelled at for.”
“Because it wasn’t yours to solve.” The word that’s been building finally comes out, hard and sharp. “You were trying to control the situation. You were trying to control me.”
“I would never try to control you.”
“You just did. You moved the pieces of my life around and didn’t even tell me you’d touched the board. That’s the exact thing my father did. The exact thing Rafael did. Every one of them sure they knew better than the stupid second daughter who couldn’t be left to run her own life.”
“I don’t think you’re weak…”
“Then why didn’t you ask me? Why didn’t you say, ‘Hey Ana, Rafael’s being a problem, I’m thinking about freezing him out, what do you think?’ Why was I the last person to find out?”
He doesn’t answer. Just stands there, jaw tight, eyes dark.
“That’s what I thought.” I turn toward the bedroom. “I need some space. I’m going to stay with Amelia tonight.”
“Ana, wait…”
“No.” I spin back around. “You don’t get to ‘Ana, wait’ me right now. You don’t get to fix this with charm or sex or whatever move you’re about to pull. I need to think. I need to figure out if this is something I can live with or if…”
I stop. The words I was about to say are too big. Too final.
“If what?” His voice is rough.
“If this is just going to be another version of the life I ran away from. Another man making decisions for me. Another cage, just with nicer furniture.”
The silence that follows is absolute.
Then I walk out.
***
Amelia doesn’t ask questions when I show up at her door with an overnight bag.
She just lets me in, pours me wine, and sits with me on the couch while I stare at nothing and try to figure out what I’m feeling.
Angry. That’s the obvious one.
But underneath the anger, there’s a heavier thing I don’t want to look at. It feels a lot like grief.
I thought Enzo was different. I thought he saw me as an equal. A partner. Someone worth consulting, worth respecting.
Maybe I was wrong.
“You want to talk about it?” Amelia asks after an hour of silence.
“Not really.”
“Okay.” She refills my wine. “You want to watch something terrible on TV and not think about it?”
“Yes. Please.”
We watch two episodes of some reality show about rich people behaving badly. It’s mindless and stupid and exactly what I need.
Around eleven, there’s a knock at the door.
Amelia looks at me. I shake my head.
“If that’s him, I don’t want to see him.”
She goes to the door, looks through the peephole, and sighs.
“It’s him.”
“Tell him to go away.”
“You should probably do that yourself.”
“Amelia…”
“I’m not getting in the middle of this.” She grabs her jacket. “I’m going to take a walk. A long one. You two figure your shit out.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” She opens the door, slips past Enzo with a muttered “don’t be an idiot,” and disappears down the hall.
Enzo stands in the doorway. He looks rough. Hair disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it. Shirt wrinkled.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
“No.”
“Please.”
“You don’t get to please your way out of this.”
“I know. I’m not trying to get out of anything. I just want to talk.”
“You had a chance to talk. You chose to do it in secret instead.”
He nods. Accepts it. Doesn’t argue.
“You’re right,” he says. “I should have told you. I should have asked. I didn’t, and that was wrong.”
I wasn’t expecting that. An apology, sure. Excuses, definitely. But simple acknowledgment?
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I was scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Of you saying no. Of you telling me to let it go. Of having to watch Rafael keep circling you while I stood by and did nothing.” He ruffles up his hair. “I don’t know how to do this, Ana. I don’t know how to want someone this much and not try to keep them safe.”
“Keeping me safe isn’t the same as taking the wheel out of my hands.”
“I know. I know that now.” He takes a breath. “Can I please come in? I don’t want to have this conversation in a hallway.”
I should say no. Make him suffer.
But I’m tired. And despite everything, I want to hear what he has to say.
“Fine.”