Chapter 13 - THE MAN WHO LEARNED TO ASK
Enzo began visiting the community center on Saturday mornings.
At first, he came to help with maintenance.
Fixing shelves.
Carrying supplies.
Repairing a broken door.
He was surprisingly bad at assembling furniture.
Mave discovered this when he spent forty minutes trying to attach a table leg backward.
She stood in the doorway.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
Enzo looked up.
"Absolutely."
The table collapsed.
Mave burst out laughing.
Enzo stared at the pieces.
Then sighed.
"I may have exaggerated."
She laughed harder.
He smiled.
For a moment, the world felt ordinary.
Not dangerous.
Not complicated.
Just two people in a room with a broken table.
Over time, they began talking.
About books.
About Philadelphia.
About family.
About the things they wished they'd done differently.
Enzo learned that Mave loved astronomy.
That she had once wanted to become an architect.
That she collected old postcards.
That she hated being called brave when she was simply trying to get through the day.
Mave learned that Enzo played piano badly.
That he loved his mother but had spent years avoiding difficult conversations with her.
That he had once dreamed of leaving the family business to open a small restaurant.
One evening, they sat outside the center after closing.
Enzo looked toward the street.
"Can I ask you something?"
Mave smiled.
"You usually do."
He laughed.
"Would you have dinner with me?"
She went still.
"As what?"
He looked at her.
"A date."
Mave stared.
Then laughed softly.
"You're serious?"
"Very."
She studied him.
"Enzo, I don't want to be someone's redemption story."
His expression changed.
"You're not."
"I don't want people saying you rescued the poor tea girl."
"I know."
"And I don't want a relationship where you make every decision because you have more money."
Enzo nodded.
"Neither do I."
Mave looked at him.
Then smiled.
"One dinner."
He smiled back.
"One dinner."
She raised a finger.
"And I choose the restaurant."
May you like
Enzo laughed.
"Of course you do."
