Chapter 65 Enzo
SIXTY-FIVE
ENZO
“Oh, and calla lillies! I love calla lilies. Don’t you love the pink ones, honey?” Celeste gushed as she held onto my arm while we stood in a florist’s.
“Yes. They’re great,” I said, looking down at my phone as she prattled on and on about fucking flowers.
Rosalie didn’t do this shit. When we’d looked at flowers, she’d been quiet.
Contemplative. A tiny smile. A small laugh.
She carefully touched the petals like she’d break them if she were too rough.
I watched while she leaned in and inhaled different scents, her eyes lighting up when she liked the way one smelled.
Rosalie liked white roses. It’s what she’d picked out.
I liked them too.
Fuck, I hated this shit.
We’d already picked out a cake. I told Celeste she could choose. She giggled and played the perfect woman who thought she was the center of my fucking world.
I hated her. Fuck, I hated her.
But I played the part too. For now, at least.
I said small wedding. She had already reached a hundred on the guess list. I vetoed. She stomped her foot.
I couldn’t fucking stand it.
This was my life for at least the next year, though, or until I found out the baby wasn’t E’s. That might change some shit.
I had a feeling it was his. She planned this entire thing. I knew she did.
I continued to play stupid.
“Get the lillies,” I said. “They’re pretty.”
“Now we need…” And she was off and running again.
Fuck.
“How was your day?” Cole asked as I stepped into the hotel suite.
“Shit.” I went straight to the bar and poured a drink. “Yours?”
“Shit,” he muttered, smoking his sugar stick, his blond hair a mess.
I drank my glass and refilled it. “Where’s E?”
“Out. Had to drug him. He’s not taking the breakup so well. You know that. I caught him trying to call her today.” He let out a bitter laugh.
I sat in one of the overstuffed chairs in the living room and looked at him.
“What happened? Did-did she answer?”
He let out another laugh that was anything but cheerful.
“No. Her number has been disconnected. Four fucking days, Enzo. FOUR. She’s already changed her number. E flipped his shit. Had a panic attack. Tried to leave and go to her. I had to wrestle him to the ground and jab him.” He looked at me.
I sat forward and noted the slight purple forming beneath his eye.
“Got this from him.” He pointed to his eye. “Punched me. Told me he hated this. That he hated me. It was a good time.”
I winced. “I’m sorry.”
“Whatever. I guess I wasn’t expecting her to change her number.
Feels pretty fucking final. Number changed, living with another guy.
” He shook his head and took another deep drag off his sugar stick.
“Only a matter of time before I look on her social media and see she’s in a relationship with the prick. ”
“I’m sending Memphis and Christian to Anson’s this evening to make sure she’s cleared her stuff out,” I said, desperate to change the subject away from her being with another man.
I knew it was a possibility, but I also knew she still loved us deep down.
That we could win her back. At least that’s what I told myself to sleep at night.
“She took Cotton. I didn’t look at anything else.”
“Well, she didn’t destroy the house,” I said weakly.
He snorted. “Too bad. That place is a fucking tomb where love goes to die.”
I watched him smoke, his eyes glassy from both the high and his sadness.
“I don’t want to go back.” He blew out a cloud of smoke.
“I can’t fucking live there. It’s where we had a family.
Going back won’t be good for E either. It’ll just be a fucking nightmare on repeat where all our memories are.
” He shook his head. “I’m going to look at apartments tomorrow.
No way in fuck are we going to live with you and that cunt. ”
I swallowed. “That’s a good idea. I-I’m good with that.”
He grunted and smoked again, and I drank more.
“You’re going to kill your fucking liver,” he muttered as he lay his head back against the cushions.
“Perfect,” I answered, finishing another drink.
He sighed. “How was wedding shopping?”
“Hell.” I pulled out a sugar stick of my own and lit it before taking a hit and blowing out the smoke. “Rosalie isn’t like her. Makes me realize how perfect she was.”
“My perfect girl living with a douchebag,” Cole mumbled.
I rubbed my eyes. “Emilio called. He’s got nothing. No coin information except that maybe Everett planted it on him to fuck with us, since Everett knew the coins existed. It makes sense.” I smoked more. “No trace of that bitch or his kid. Nothing. Blank fucking slate.”
“He’ll be back,” Cole said. “He has to. This is his personal hellscape. Demons won’t stay away for long.”
I nodded. I agreed with that. I assumed the same.
We grew quiet again.
“You going to fuck Celeste on your wedding night?” he finally asked.
I didn’t say anything, so he lifted his head and looked at me.
“Enzo?”
“What?”
“You going to fuck her?”
“No.”
He studied me for a moment before seemingly being satisfied with my answer and resting his head on the cushions again.
“Were you lying to Rosalie about fucking Celeste that night in the club?” His voice shook.
I’d be waiting for that question. He’d asked me the very same one the night it happened.
“Yes,” I answered softly.
He lifted his head again and studied me. “Promise?”
“Promise. Nothing happened. It just worked out when I needed it. Must be a sign.” I let out a bitter laugh as I smoked more. “I’d never fuck that bitch willingly.”
“Have you kissed her since…”
I sighed. “Cole, why do you want to know? Do you like torturing yourself?”
“I don’t know. I just… need to know.”
“To play the part, yes. I’ve kissed her. She needs to believe it. So does her old man. I have to pretend like I’m into it.”
“How are you going to explain not fucking her on her wedding night to her old man?”
“He’ll be dead so that it won’t matter,” I said, my voice low.
Cole stared at me. “I’ll do it.”
“Not alone. I’ll help.”
A smile graced his face. It had been so long since I saw it on him that it was disarming.
Of course, wicked smiles on madmen still counted as smiles.
So I smiled back.