Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Why?”
Because the tattoo isn’t going away, and that means we can never be intimate.
I swallow hard, but it does nothing to ease the lump growing in my throat. “You were right all those years.”
I dare a quick glance and see his jaw tighten and his eyes narrow on me.
“Our friendship is too precious to mess with.” I force the words out. “We can’t risk it.”
“We won’t risk it.”
When he reaches for me, I move even further back but then get up, and in desperate need of shutting this down, I say, “I can’t deal with this right now. I think I should go to my parents.”
Enzo shoots to his feet, shaking his head, panic flashing over his face. “Forget I said anything. Let’s get you to bed so you can rest while I fix you something to eat.”
I nod jerkily, doing my best not to burst out in tears, then to make matters worse, Enzo suddenly pulls me into a hug, his arms forming bands of safety around me.
I have zero fight in me, and the instant I press my face to his chest, sobs burst from me.
“Christ, Rosie. I’m sorry,” He says, his tone urgent. “I thought it would make you happy to hear I feel the same way about you.”
Suck it up, Rosie. You’re finally home. Enzo loves you. Even if you can’t be together, at least you have that.
“It’s just been a lot,” I mumble into his shirt.
“I’m sorry, bella mia. I should’ve waited and given you more time to recover.”
“It’s okay.” I pull away and use my fingertips to wipe the tears from my cheeks. “We can talk about it once I’m back to full strength.”
“Okay.” Again, he picks me up, and when my lips part to argue, he says, “You’re exhausted, and I didn’t help. Let’s just get you to bed so you can take a nap.”
Needing to be close to him, I wrap my arms around his neck and press my face to his throat.
God, I want to take a blow torch to my back, or rip every inch of skin off.
Now more than ever, I regret getting the stupid tattoo.
I shouldn’t be surprised when Enzo carries me to his bedroom, but I am.
You can address this once you’ve gotten some rest, Rosie.
Also, it would be so nice being surrounded by his scent while sleeping.
Enzo sets me down on his bed, then removes the ballet flats on my feet. When I pull the dark gray covers back and crawl beneath them, I feel his eyes on me.
As soon as I lie down and hug a pillow that smells like him, he sits on the side of the bed and rubs his hand over my back.
“You okay?”
Gripping the pillow tighter, I nod.
He leans over me and presses a kiss to my temple, then murmurs, “Have a good nap, bella mia. I’ll make your favorite for lunch.”
“BBQ pulled pork sandwich with coleslaw and fries?”
“Just the way you like it.”
Enzo gets up and walks to the door, but stops when I say, “Thank you for taking care of me.”
He gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Anything for you.”
Leaving the door slightly open, he disappears down the hallway.
I lie in his bed for several long minutes, but my mind won’t quiet down.
I mean, Enzo just told me he loves me!
My bottom lip juts out, and when the tears come, I cry into the pillow.
Sob your little heart out, then get your shit together, because life has to go on, whether you’re ready or not.
Chapter 23
Enzo
While I prepare the pulled pork and make coleslaw, so they’re ready once Rosie is up, worry gnaws at me until it feels like I’m being backed into a corner.
I didn’t expect that reaction from Rosie.
Not once did it cross my mind she wouldn’t want to be with me. I didn’t arrogantly expect her to fall into my arms, but she’s made it very clear she loves me.
What the fuck am I missing?
By the time everything we’ll need for lunch is in the fridge, there’s a weird urgency in me to get to the bottom of what’s keeping Rosie from accepting my love.
You need to be fucking patient, dumbass.
Rosie’s been through hell. She can’t deal with my shit on top of the horrors she’s suffered.
We haven’t even talked about her time in Russia.
Slow down. Right now, she needs her friend, not a brand-new relationship.
I wipe down the counter, and hearing soft footsteps, I glance at the entrance to the kitchen.
When Rosie walks in, looking even paler than before I put her to bed, I feel like an asshole for dumping a love proposal on her.
“You didn’t nap?” I ask, my tone strained.
She shakes her head. Coming right at me, I’m surprised when she wraps her arms around my waist and presses her face to my chest.