Chapter 12 - THE FIRST TIME I WALKED AWAY FROM HIM
The weeks after my father's return were harder than I expected.
Everyone wanted me to be happy.
My mother was happy.
My father was trying.
Enzo was patient.
But I felt as though my entire childhood had been rewritten without my permission.
Some mornings, I woke grateful.
Other mornings, I woke furious.
I returned to work at Vincenzo's, but the bar no longer felt the same.
Reporters waited outside.
Customers whispered.
Marco treated me with exaggerated politeness.
And Enzo—
Enzo watched me as though he was afraid I might disappear.
One evening, I found him in his office.
"Can we talk?"
He immediately put down his phone.
"Of course."
I sat across from him.
"I need some space."
His expression changed.
"From the bar?"
"From everything."
He nodded slowly.
"Okay."
I looked at him.
"You're not going to ask why?"
"I think I know."
"Tell me."
He leaned back.
"Your father returned. Your mother is rebuilding her life. My family has been exposed. And somewhere in the middle of all that, you've barely had a moment to decide what you want."
My eyes filled.
"Exactly."
He looked down.
"I've been afraid of losing you."
"I know."
"And I've probably made that your problem."
I smiled sadly.
"A little."
He nodded.
"Then take the time you need."
I stood.
He didn't stop me.
At the door, I turned.
"Enzo?"
"Yes?"
"Do you love me?"
The question surprised both of us.
He stared at me.
Then answered.
"Yes."
My heart hurt.
"Then why haven't you said it?"
"Because I didn't want you to feel you owed me an answer."
I looked at him.
For a moment, I wanted to cross the room.
Kiss him.
Promise everything would be fine.
Instead, I said, "Thank you."
Then I left.
I enrolled in hospitality management classes.
Started working part-time at a small bakery.
Spent Sundays with my parents.
My father and I began slowly.
Coffee.
Walks.
Long conversations.
Sometimes we argued.
Sometimes we laughed.
Sometimes I cried afterward.
But we kept trying.
And little by little, the man I'd lost became someone I could know again.
Three months passed.
I didn't see Enzo.
We exchanged occasional messages.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing demanding.
Then one afternoon, I received an envelope.
Inside was a business proposal.
A small restaurant property had become available near the waterfront.
The owner was retiring.
The price was reasonable.
The location was perfect.
Attached was a note.
I thought of your dream when I saw this. No obligations. No investment from me. Just information.
Enzo.
I stared at the proposal.
Then smiled.
He had remembered.
Not the red dress.
Not the gala.
Not the danger.
May you like
My dream.
And for the first time in months, I realized how much I missed him.
