32. Serena
Serena
An chorus of cheering echoed through the house as I came inside.
I spent the day creating a mood board for a client. It was almost perfect, and I couldn’t wait to send it out. It was for an actress who had seen my designs on a director at a premiere.
The work was creatively draining but also exciting. I hadn’t even realized the afternoon had slipped away entirely.
That had been happening more lately. I was a workaholic by necessity—bills didn’t pay themselves. I crammed work into Harper’s school hours and after her bedtime, with client pickups and orders filling the gaps in between.
All that to say, I rarely had a chance to get lost in my work because I was never able to zone out in a way that allowed me to be creative.
That was a thing of the past now that we were living at Enzo’s. His men dropped off the garments and took payment. Food magically appeared on my worktable at one o’clock on the dot.
It was amazing. I didn’t know that life could be like this. As much as I loved what I did, tailoring was draining and could be monotonous. The tedious tasks wore me down.
Enzo had strong-armed me into letting his men step in, but if I was being honest, I didn’t put up much of a fight.
I took off my slippers near the back door and followed the noise.
It led me to the big living room.
I stopped in my tracks, jaw on the floor at what I found.
Enzo wore a white soccer jersey, with a thick black stripe under each eye. Donovan and Angelo were similarly dressed, with Donovan’s hair painted green and Angelo’s red. Angelo bounced a soccer ball like it was a basketball on the ground.
Four Pizza boxes littered the table, along with cups, soda, and a few beers.
None of that was what had me staring in shock.
What did was my daughter. Her face was painted in red, white, and green stripes. Her pigtails were uneven, some hair completely falling out, like someone had pulled the strands out in a fight. She wore an identical jersey to Enzo, whose shoulders she sat atop.
She raised her fists and screamed and screamed, “Viva Italia.” like she was rallying an army into battle.
The three men stood, yelling words in Italian that I had no hope of understanding.
Harper saw me and pointed. “Mommy!” she shrieked, then she pointed at the massive 70-inch TV, balled her fists, raised them over her head, and screamed, “Football!”
I blinked at her. Did I stumble into an alternate reality?
Tentatively, I stepped into the room and looked at the TV.
They were watching soccer. The score was 1-0, favoring what I assumed was Italy from the ITA.
“Come sit,” Harper called, motioning to the spot next to Enzo. She stayed on his shoulders, her face lit up with the biggest smile.
It did something to my chest, seeing the two of them together like that.
I always worried about the man I found, if I ever found him, and how he’d be with my little girl. Would they bond? Would it take time? Would I set off a chain of events that would make Harper hate me and have to go to therapy for years on end?
Turns out, I had nothing to worry about. Enzo slipped into the role of the fatherly figure seamlessly, like he’d taken classes and practiced.
I sat next to Enzo, while Harper stayed on his shoulders, for the rest of the game.
I cheered when they did, winced when there was a missed goal. Donovan, Enzo, and Angelo sometimes spoke in Italian, but I was picking up on some of the words.
I wouldn’t be able to put a sentence together any time soon, but I could curse someone out if need be.
I ate one of the last slices of pizza and hung out with my family, enjoying a game I knew nothing about.
Rubbing the expensive moisturizer on my face, I looked at my reflection. My hair was longer, my skin glowed, and the pressure of the world wasn’t on my shoulders anymore.
Turning, I leaned on the countertop as Enzo appeared in the doorway. He raised his arms, gripping the doorframe above his head, making his muscles pop.
Pair that with the white tank top and grey sweatpants, and he could’ve been the cover of some men’s magazine.
“Is she out?” I asked.
Enzo smiled. “Yeah. Had to read her four stories, but finally got her eyes to close.”
I laughed, walking over to him. When I got close enough, I wrapped my arms around him and lay my head on his chest. His arms came around me, and he pulled me into our room. Keeping his arms around me, we swayed without any music.
We didn’t do this every night, but most nights ended with Enzo slow dancing with me in our room.
He spun me out, then twirled me back into his arms.
After a few more minutes, he whispered in my ear, “Let’s get to bed, mi amore.”
He pulled me into our bed, held me close, and I went to sleep, knowing I’d get to do it all over again tomorrow.
A knock at my studio door made me jump. I was so excited to start my work, and I hadn’t bothered to put on the ambient music I usually did.
Enzo stood in the doorway, in a suit I had tailored, the top two buttons undone.
I checked the clock that hung above the door. It was early afternoon.
Dammit. I forgot about lunch.
“Come on. I have lunch.”
I smiled and followed him out. He grabbed my hand and held it while we walked to the patio, where a spread of food was laid out.
Donovan and Angelo sat at the table, each with a plate in front of them.
They sat up straight when we approached.
Both men glanced at each other, then back at me, rushing to stand as I sat.
They moved, grabbing their plates as Enzo loaded one with antipasti, chicken, and an assortment of food and placed it in front of me. A glass of wine appeared next to me.
I looked at Enzo, trying to figure out why everyone was so jumpy.
Pushing the plate away, I sighed. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” Enzo said, chuckling.
“Then what’s with the fanfare. These two,” I pointed to Donovan and Angelo, “look like they’re about to jump out of their skin.”
Donovan and Angelo stopped fidgeting immediately.
Enzo looked at them and raised his eyebrows.
Angelo cleared his throat and took a step forward. He was always the quieter of the pair.
“There is a five-and-under soccer league,” he said and handed me a brochure. “We, with your permission, of course, would like to sign Harper up and be the coaches.”
Both men stared at me with a desperate hope.
“Harper did seem to enjoy the soccer game,” I said. I wasn’t a sports person, but that didn’t mean Harper wouldn’t find joy in them.
“She did. We’ve been kicking the ball around before dinner. She has great hand-eye coordination,” Angelo said.
“What’s the schedule like?” I asked.
I was going to let Harper join, but I liked how eager and hopeful they were. It was adorable. They took part in shootouts and whatever other things Enzo had them do. It was easy to forget that they were still very young.
I wasn’t even sure they were of drinking age. An uncomfortable feeling ran through me. I should know that, especially because of how much they’d been there for Harper and me.
“Practice is Tuesdays and Thursdays at five fifteen. It will last for one hour, typically,” Angelo said. “We played soccer our entire lives. We’ve taken some coaching courses during high school.”
“Okay.” I shrugged. “Sounds like fun. When do we need to get the equipment by?”
Enzo laughed. “I will get Harper everything she needs. Don’t worry about it.” He nodded at the men. They turned and left, high-fiving each other as they entered the house.
“Thank you for saying yes,” Enzo said, sliding my plate back to me. “They’ve been very stressed about asking.”
I laughed. I took a few bites before I asked, “Why? It’s a great idea. Harper is an active little girl. She can be shy in new situations, but since she’ll know the coaches, she’ll feel more comfortable.”
“You know Donovan and Angelo were scouted, offered some scholarships, and all that in high school.”
“Really? Then why,” I stopped, unsure of how to ask my question.
“Why are they here, working for me when they should be in college, enjoying a carefree life?” Enzo supplied. I nodded. “Some things happened, family issues, but that’s for them to tell you if they want to.”
“Okay.” I trusted them. With how nervous they were, I knew they cared about doing a good job. “What about the team? How are they going to recruit them?”
Enzo smiled and threw an olive in his mouth. “Let’s say they’ve been talking to some teachers and nannies at Harper’s school.”
“Got it.” I sipped some wine and adjusted my position to face Enzo fully. He licked his bottom lip, pushed his chair back, picked me up from mine, and sat back down with me in his lap.
“This is better.” A finger twirled my hair. I rolled my eyes, pulled my plate over, and ate while Enzo answered emails from his phone.
The summer sun warmed our skin, and my previous exhaustion washed away.
Never would I have thought life could be so good to me.