I will not go down without a fight.
I frantically rifle around in my purse, searching for my can of mace. I’ve still got some left after spraying Xavier that first time. If it’s Douglas, I am not letting him squeeze any information out of me. And if it’s Xavier, I took him out once, and I can do it again. I’m not afraid.
Although my heart is pounding pretty hard as he gets out of the car.
My fingers make contact with the can of mace. I pull it out, my finger on the nozzle. “Don’t come any closer!” I hiss at the dark shadow.
Slowly, the shadow raises his hands in the air. A familiar voice speaks up, “Do not shoot, Millie.”
It takes me a split second to recognize the voice. All at once, a warm feeling comes over me, and my face involuntarily breaks out in a smile. I lower the can of mace and propel myself at the man still standing with his hands up in the air.
“Enzo!” I cry as I throw my arms around him. “Oh my God!”
He hugs me back, and for a moment, I feel nothing but pure joy, wrapped in my former boyfriend’s warm embrace. I always used to feel so safe when he hugged me like that, and I wasn’t sure I would ever be in his arms ever again. And now, here he is. His broad shoulders, his thick black hair, his penetrating eyes. And my favorite thing about him—the smile that makes me feel like he thinks I’m the most amazing person he’s ever met.
“Millie,” he whispers into my hair, “I am so happy to be back.” “When did you get back?”
He hesitates briefly. “A little over three months ago.”
If there were a record playing beautiful reunion music, this is the moment when the record would have screeched to a halt. I pull away from Enzo, my jaw hanging open. “Three months ago?”
His sheepish expression tells me everything I needed to know—and unfortunately, it all makes terrible, perfect sense. For the last few months, I have had this feeling like somebody was following me—watching me. I blamed it on Xavier or Douglas, but neither of them had anything to do with it. It was Enzo all along. Enzo is the owner of the black Mazda with the cracked right headlight. I was so excited to see him, I was ignoring what was staring me right in the face.
“You were stalking me!” I smack him in the arm. “I can’t believe you!
Why would you do that?”
“Not stalking.” His jaw tightens—God, I’d forgotten how s*xy he is. It’s distracting, and I can’t let myself get distracted, because I am rightfully furious with this man. “Not stalking—I am bodyguard.”
“Bodyguard?” I fold my arms across my chest. “That’s a pretty weak excuse. Why didn’t you just come up to me and say hello instead of following me around for three months?”
“Because…” He lowers his dark, dark eyes. “I thought you were mad at me because I did not come back when you wanted me to.”
“Right. I was mad. I asked you when you were coming back, and you wouldn’t even give me an answer.”
“But, Millie, I couldn’t. My mother… I was all she had and she was so sick. How could I leave her?”
“You left her now,” I point out.
“Yes.” He frowns. “That is because she is dead.”
Well, now I feel like a huge jerk. “I’m really sorry, Enzo.” He’s quiet for a moment. “Yes.”
“I would have…” I swallow a tiny lump that has formed in my throat. “If you had told me, I could’ve been there for you. But you just… you blew me off. You know that.”
“I could not come back.” He grits his teeth. “That is all I told you. I never told you that I did not love you anymore.” He shoots me a look. “You are the one who wanted to end what we have. You are the one who started dating this Broccoli.”
I roll my eyes. “His name is Brock.”
“I am just saying, you are the one who wanted to move on. Not me. I still… I never stopped feeling love for you.”
I snort. “Okay, right. You expect me to believe that you have not been with any other women since me.”
“No. No other woman.”
His eyes meet mine—he means it. One thing Enzo doesn’t do is lie. Not to me, anyway. Then again, I could be wrong. I didn’t take him for a stalker either.
“You shouldn’t have started following me like that,” I say sternly. “It was creepy. You should have told me you were back.”
“So you can tell me to get lost?” His black eyebrows shoot up. “Anyway, like I say, I am bodyguard. You need bodyguard.”
“I really don’t. I can take care of myself.”
Now it’s Enzo’s turn to snort. “Oh, really? You live in this terrible neighborhood in South Bronx. You think you do not need me to look out for you? Let me promise you, there was at least one day when you would not have made it from the train station to your apartment building if I had not been behind you, being bodyguard.”
All the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Is he telling the truth? Was there danger lurking in the shadows behind me that he vanquished before I even knew about it?
“Like you said, I have a boyfriend,” I say quietly. “And if I need it, he can protect me, thank you very much.”
“Like he protected you from Xavier Marin?”
Hearing that man’s name on Enzo’s lips is like a punch in the face. “What do you mean?”
Even in the dark, I can see Enzo’s hands balling into fists. “That man… he attacked you. I could not do anything to stop him because it was in your own building. And then they just let him free. And this Broccoli of yours
—”
My face burns. “Brock.”
“Sorry, Brock.” His voice is tinged with fury. “He does nothing. Nothing. He does not care that the man who attacked his girlfriend is still out there. No punishment! He has gotten away with it! But I—I care.” He pounds on his chest with a fist. “So I make sure that he gets what he deserves, that he will never bother you again.”
My head is suddenly spinning. I remember Xavier being led out of my building in handcuffs, shouting about how the drugs they found didn’t belong to him. Mrs. Randall said everyone was surprised to learn he was dealing drugs. “You were the one who…”
He lifts a shoulder. “I know a guy.”
It’s because of Enzo that Xavier is in prison. If not for him, that man would still be walking around the streets. Enzo is right—Brock did nothing.
Suddenly, I’m not sure what to think anymore.
“Come on.” He waves a hand in the direction of his Mazda. “I give you ride home. You think over whether you hate me or not.”
Fair enough.
I climb into the car next to Enzo, who sits in the driver’s seat. The car smells like him. That woodsy scent he always has. I close my eyes, lost in the past. Why did he have to leave? Now things are so complicated. He’s done too many things wrong. I can’t just forgive him.
Can I?
“So,” he says as we start driving uptown. “Where were you driving in so much big rush today?”
I tug at a loose thread on my jeans. “As if you don’t know.”
“I do not know everything, Millie.” He glances over at me, his face partially obscured by shadows. “Tell me.”
So I do.
