Serena
The bed was a cloud, pulling me in, beckoning me to stay forever. I slowly opened my eyes, turning away from the stream of sunlight, and reached for Harper as I thought about last night.
Which reminded me of where I was.
I shot up, my heart pounding. There was no tiny body resting inches from me.
It took me a moment to find the door, which was open. Rushing off the massive bed, my foot caught on the blanket. I hopped on one foot, frantically trying to untangle myself as I raced out of the bedroom.
“Harper,” I whispered. We were in an unfamiliar place, and Harper tended to venture out because she had no idea what it meant to be afraid or cautious. It was always full steam ahead until something scared her.
I walked down the hall, heading toward the stairs, when I heard her tinkling laughter, followed by a deeper rumble.
Going down the steps of the grand staircase, I followed the sound. The closer I came, the louder the laughter was, followed by the unmistakable clanging of pots.
Pausing at the entry of the kitchen, I surveyed the scene.
Enzo stood at the stove in grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips and a black T-shirt with the bottom cut off into a crop with big white letters that read ‘Protect the Dolls’.
He was relaxed, moving through the kitchen like he did every morning, which wasn’t a far-fetched idea since this was his home, but I was having a hard time reconciling the relaxed version of him in front of me with the serious, suited one I knew from my studio.
He was always this strong, powerful man with an intimidating presence. He moved with lethal grace. I never imagined what he was like at home.
I never considered what he would be like with Harper. Seeing him at the stove making breakfast with my little girl, as if it was just another day, rocked me.
It struck me, deep in my heart, at how intimate a moment I was witnessing. He hovered over her when she swirled the spoon in the pot. He was gentle, which, until now, I would never have used to describe him.
I tore my eyes from him to the small girl next to him. Harper stood on a chair, hands on her hips, in the donut onesie she picked out last night. In her hand was a small blue cardboard box that I was all too familiar with.
Two men, who were, by my best estimate, in their early twenties, sat on the island with their hands on top. One I recognized as the man who dropped off my groceries—the one who had bowed.
Harper turned and pointed a huge ladle at them. “You want some mac and cheese too? It’s the bestest.”
I had to be dreaming. Pinching myself, I hissed when it hurt. Red indents on my forearm told me I was a little overzealous.
I must’ve been loud because Enzo’s head snapped up, eyes landing directly on me. His eyes scanned me up and down, slowly, methodically. He lingered on my legs before meeting my eyes again, licking his bottom lip.
Heat rose to my face. I tried to avoid his gaze by looking somewhere else, only to find myself staring at the sliver of stomach peeking out from his shirt. My eyes shot back up, and his lips tipped up ever so slightly, catching me checking him out.
I glanced down at myself and realized I was wearing my sleep shirt. A big t-shirt with Santa drinking a soda. It was old and faded, with a tear at the collar. And the least sexy thing I could’ve been wearing.
He whispered something to Harper, who turned and stared at me with anger in her eyes.
I needed coffee if I was going to survive Enzo’s half-smiles and the sight of him playing with my daughter.
“We had a sleepover, and I didn’t even know Mommy!” She jumped down from her chair, marched to me, grabbed my hand, and pulled me farther into the room.
As much as I wanted to pull her away from everything and fuss over her after the night we’d had, I didn’t. Instead, I let her drag me into the massive kitchen. She slept through the night without so much as a peep. If she wasn’t spiraling, I was determined not to either.
She pointed to the chair next to the two men and huffed. “Enzo and me are cooking. Are you hungry?”
“No, but thank you for asking.” I crouched down to her level. “Did you wake up the whole house?”
We were still working on manners; saying please and thank you was a test for her some days. I wouldn’t put it past her to slip out of bed and open every door until she found someone to bother who wasn’t me.
“No. Enny was already awake.” Harper scrunched up her face, her sign that she was gearing up for a fight.
“I think it’s ready to be mixed, Harper,” Enzo called out.
Just like that, whatever she was about to say was forgotten, and she ran to Enzo, who lifted her back onto the chair. On the counter in front of me was a coffee with a straw.
I took a sip and sighed. It tasted exactly like a Daydream Latte from Blank Street.
A plate slid in front of me, filled with grapes, orange slices, pistachio nuts, and cheesy eggs. Another plate slid onto the counter, this one filled with pastries.
Harper sat on the counter across from me, her legs swinging as she dug into her bowl of mac and cheese. Enzo placed two more bowls full of mac and cheese in front of the two men.
I wanted to tell them they didn’t have to eat it, but held my tongue. At least I wasn’t the only one this morning who was going to get bossed around by a four-year-old.
“It’s good, right?” Harper said, with a spoon halfway to her mouth.
The two men nodded, muttering how good it was while I ate the healthiest breakfast I’d had since Harper was born. Maybe even before that.
“Donovan, Angelo. Can you show Harper around the house? I need a word with Serena,” Enzo said, placing his empty bowl in the sink.
I jumped off my chair, awkwardly standing and sitting at the same time. “It’s okay. I don’t want us to be a bother. I’m sure you’re busy, and we don’t want to be a nuisance.”
Enzo tilted his head and then walked over to me. “You and Harper could never be a nuisance,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“If you want to watch, I have a room with a bank of cameras where you can observe them while they give her a tour. No one comes in or out of this house that I don’t know about.” He leaned on the counter between us. “You are safe here.”
I tapped my foot, needing to believe we were in a safe place. At least for the day. I swallowed, looked at Harper, and nodded.
She smiled, threw her hands up in the air, and jumped down, landing in a crouch and yelling, “Kowabunga.”
One of the young men stood, brought his bowl to the sink, and said, “Ninja Turtles. Love them. I’m more of a Rafael fan myself.”
The other one stood, placed his bowl in the sink, and said, “I’m more of a Leonardo.” He crouched down to Harper’s level and held out his hand. “I’m Donovan.”
Harper stared at his hand a beat, then wrapped her hand around one finger, shook it hard, and said, “Michelangelo is the bestest and the only right answer.”
“Come on, kid,” the one I assumed was Angelo said, “let’s show you around the place.”
I wanted to follow, anxiety spiking at Harper leaving my sight. I made it one step when a hand lightly grabbed my wrist.
Enzo shook his head. “Let them show her around. Take a moment to eat.”
I stared at the group, Harper following the two guys down the hall without so much as a backward glance at me, rattling on about every Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle fact she could think of.
Suddenly, I was very aware of how quiet the kitchen was and that I was alone with Enzo.
He leaned against the countertop, arms crossed over his chest, making his shirt ride up, giving me a better view of his tattoo and how built he was.
I was never good with silence unless I was creating something, so I said the only thing that came to mind.
“She loves superheroes but only if they’re from New York.
Superman, TMNT, Captain America, Batman.
It’s been an ongoing obsession for the last few months.
I thought she’d move on to some more age-appropriate cartoons, but whenever I tried to suggest another cartoon, like this popular pig one, she asks when they’re going to take out the bad guys.
There are not a lot of girl superheroes, let alone ones that are from New York.
” I spewed out the words, unsure why that was what came out of my mouth rather than the ten other, significantly more important topics like what happened last night.
“Well, there is Spider-Gwen,” Enzo said.
I stopped, staring at him with raised brows. Enzo blinked, like he was surprised he said it out loud, and then laughed. Had I ever heard him laugh? It was a deep rumble that shook his upper body, and I wanted to hear it again.
“Are you ready to talk about last night?” he asked. He came to the island opposite me and leaned down on his forearms.
He held my gaze, and I realized I hadn’t responded. I’d just been staring at him.
“Yes.” I pushed my plate away and folded my hands.
“Two masked men were in your studio. It was trashed, and I don’t know how long they were in there before I got there.” He paused, a muscle ticking in his jaw. I braced myself because I got a feeling that I wasn’t going to like what he said next.
It was hard to hear and even harder to think about. Pain, heartbreak at everything I had worked so hard for, being torn apart, threatened to pull me under. The violation of my safe space. The place that I’d made entirely mine and Harper’s.
My world blurred to those minutes when I felt true, paralyzing fear all over again.
My body went cold as I tried to hold myself together.
A warm hand slid under my hair and behind my neck, pulling me into a warm, hard body. “It will be okay,” Enzo said, his thumb rubbing my throat. I soaked in his strength as I took time to come to terms with the fact that I might never be able to set foot in my apartment or studio again.
“Do you want the rest?” he asked. I pulled away to look up at him, without fully leaving his embrace.
He was strong, and I desperately needed that strength to hear what else there was to know.
I took a deep breath and nodded at him to proceed.