Serena #2
“Take advantage,” he said, cutting me off. It sounded more like an order, but I let it slide. “Take whatever you need from me, whenever you need it.”
I could dive into that request, give it a thousand more meanings, but those thoughts were out of place.
I spun around the room, trying to find something to focus on, but I couldn’t. Everywhere I looked was perfect. It was a struggle to wrap my head around the idea that someone, anyone, would go this far for me.
How did he get this so right?
“I thought you were going to tell me it was time for us to go,” I said.
Enzo barked a laugh. The laugh was so surprising, I almost jumped. It was rough, like he didn’t use it often.
I’d never heard him laugh before. It was a wonderful sound. One I wanted to hear more of.
As he laughed, he transformed before my eyes. Laugh lines bracketed his mouth. His eyes twinkled, and his face softened.
He became younger, less intimidating, and more carefree. I didn’t know that side of him, and I desperately wanted to. What was fun Enzo like?
“We can leave. I appreciate everything you've done for us, but spending money on all this,” I waved my finger around the room, “wasn’t necessary.”
“You aren’t leaving. I have money and nowhere to spend it. If I want to spend my money giving you and Harper whatever you need to get through the next day, week, year, then that’s what I’m going to do.”
I opened and immediately closed my mouth. Was he offended? That wasn’t my intention, so I started backtracking, realizing I wasn’t going about this right.
“I’m only saying that this goes beyond being nice and giving us a safe place to be. This is,” I had no idea how to say what I was feeling. How did I tell someone that I’ve never had anyone be as thoughtful as this? As considerate of my needs? “So much to take in.”
I went to the sewing machine. One I knew cost an arm and a leg, which was why I couldn’t justify getting it for myself.
Yet Enzo got it for me without blinking an eye.
“I’m not used to anybody coming in and helping.” I thrummed my finger on the table, keeping my eyes glued to it. “We’re in your home, wrecking it with pillow forts, sleeping in your rooms, and taking up your time. You created a space for me to work.
“I just don’t want you to do this because you feel some sort of obligation because you saved us that night, and it switched on some caveman protectiveness you don’t know how to turn off.
” I buried my face in my hands. “None of this is coming out right. The studio is amazing, and I’m overwhelmed by it. ”
Fingers wrapped around my wrists, pulling my hands from my face. Tilting my chin up and to the right, Enzo was staring down at me.
“I like the chaos you, and particularly Harper, bring to my home. Nothing about having both of you here is an inconvenience. If I didn’t want you here, I’d get you a hotel room.
” His head dipped closer to mine. “You’re here because I want you here.
I like you here. I like the way you say my full name. ”
His mouth was close to mine. All it would take would be for me to rock up onto my toes, and I’d be there.
My heart was trying to break out of my chest.
If I could just—
A loud ring made me jump. My feet slipped as I landed, and I reached for the first thing I could grab—Enzo’s shirt—trying to steady myself.
Enzo wrapped an arm around my waist, bringing us closer together than we were before.
Out of breath, heart racing, I closed my eyes. Why was I so easily surprised? Was there never a time I could keep my cool?
No. I had zero chill.
“Are you going to answer that?” Enzo asked. He hadn’t let me go.
It took me a moment to understand what the noise was. My phone was ringing in my back pocket. I hadn’t recognized it because it had been on vibrate since 2009.
Enzo let me go, stepping away. I checked the caller ID.
Charles.
Frustrated with Charles’ timing, I answered.
“What?” My tone was angrier than I intended. I should’ve let it go to voicemail like I typically did, but I acted on impulse.
Enzo pushed into my space, hovering, intense.
It was like whiplash, how fast he went from the laughing man to the one I was used to being around.
I took a step back. Enzo cocked his head, put a hand in his pocket, looking deceptively relaxed, but I noticed the tension in his shoulders.
The way his body coiled, ready to react.
I turned my back, needing to focus on dealing with Charles and this mistake of a phone call, without being distracted.
“Don’t what me. Where are you? It’s my weekend,” Charles barked at me. Usually, I kept my cool. Emotion was ammunition.
Enzo could hear Charles yelling through the phone. I glanced over my shoulder, and he was barely a foot away. Having Enzo witness this much of my life with Charles was both exposing and embarrassing.
Charles was throwing a temper tantrum, and Enzo had a front-row seat to the shitshow.
“It’s Sunday night, Charles. The weekend is over,” I stated.
“And your weekend was last weekend. You have first, third, and fifth weekends.” We’d had the same schedule since Harper was a month old, yet he never remembered.
He hardly exercised his visitation, so it wasn’t a surprise he couldn’t keep track of his days.
“You already came by on Wednesday without warning, and I let you take Harper for the day. That was enough accommodation for this week, Charles.” I stared at the water through the windows.
It was always about what was best for Charles, never a thought about Harper, and I wasn’t going to stand for it.
“I get her when I want. And where are you? Why is there a new lock on your door?” Charles was snarling. “Where did you take my kid? You have to tell me when you take her anywhere.”
That was true.
“First, you don’t get her whenever you remember she exists.
That’s not how custody works. The building was broken into, and my apartment wasn’t secure anymore,” I said.
It wasn’t a lie, but it omitted some key factors that he didn’t need to know about.
“We’re staying with a friend until the landlord says we can come back. ”
“Where are you?” he demanded.
“I’m still in the city,” I said. “However, you don’t need my exact address. Harper will be at school tomorrow. If you want to see her and ensure she’s okay, you can do it there.”
“You’re required to tell me!” he yelled, and I had to take the phone away from my ear.
“I’m not.” I had memorized our custody agreement backward and forward. Minnie paid for an amazing lawyer who wrote every line and considered every contingency, including situations like this. “If you need a reminder, call your lawyer and have him read it to you.”
With that, I hung up. I needed to call a lawyer because that was the game Charles liked to play. It was a game of chicken with him. He’d call and text a hundred more times. When I didn’t answer, he’d pivot to getting his lawyers involved to manipulate and pressure me.
My phone rang again. I answered. I never learned. Maybe I could solve this issue without having to deal with the emotional backlash that was typical of Charles and his antics when he didn’t get his way.
Tapping the screen without looking, I started, “Look—”
“Hi, sweetheart.” My mom’s cheery voice rang through.
I went to the corner, wanting space between Enzo and me for this conversation.
Dealing with my mother, talking to her, was something I did out of obligation. We weren’t close, and that was how I liked it. I didn’t need her constant criticism, nor did I need Harper to hear someone always telling me that I wasn’t doing enough or making digs at my career.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, my tone curt.
“Just wanted to call and say thank you for the money.. Hope you and my little girl are doing good.” I nodded like she could see me through the phone.
“Yeah, Mom. We’re doing good. But I have to get Harper ready for bed.” I wanted to get this call over with. I had a feeling I knew what it was about anyway.
Short, fast, and to the point was best when speaking to my mother. Especially since our calls usually ended with her asking for money, a deal on some clothes, or complaining about all the poor choices she thought I made in my life.
“Oh! I didn’t think of the time. Go get her ready for bed. Talk to you soon.” Her voice stayed high-pitched, some of the southern drawl bleeding into her words. I rolled my eyes because, of course, she’d call back. She never told me what she needed.
She was never truthful if she needed money for her mortgage or wanted to treat herself to get her nails done. She’d tell me what she needed if I asked more than once, and then I’d be on the receiving end of her verbal lashing.
Now, I gave it to her, no questions asked. Sometimes, she’d text me a picture of her nails or something similar, which was how I knew where the money went.
Why she needed money at all, when both she and my stepfather had good-paying jobs, was a mystery to me. One that wasn’t worth asking about.
“Bye, Mom,” I said after she had already hung up on me and turned back to Enzo.
Holding up the phone, I shrugged. “My mom. She lives in South Carolina with my stepdad. We don’t see each other often, which is how I like it.
Our relationship is surface-level at best. Once a month, she calls, needing money.
I send it, and she calls and says thank you. Harper doesn’t really know her.”
“Why don’t you like your mom?” Enzo asked.
I blew out a breath, trying to figure out how to explain my complicated relationship with my mother.
“It’s not so much that I don’t like her but more that I need the separation.
” I walked to the table and leaned on the edge.
“She was always pushing her ideals onto me. Who she wanted me to be, where I should go to college, and was critical of my every move. I have a younger sister. I don’t know if I ever told you that.
Her name is Poppy. She’s twenty and in school for nursing.