I forced open my eyes. “I don’t understand. For the last two years, I didn’t think you even remembered our kiss, let alone felt anything for me.”
“Maria.” He hung his head, robbing me of the view of his gorgeous deep-brown eyes. “You were married, what’d you want me to do? I promised your father I’d protect you, that includes not breaking up your marriage.”
And I was thankful for that. Respected him for it. “And what about now? I’ve been separated since last November, and you haven’t made a single move. Don’t tell me you were trying to give me time to process the divorce. I won’t believe you.”
He looked up and reached for me, brushing the pad of his thumb across the line of my lips, and my tongue peeked out. He went still when our eyes locked. “As much as I want to stand here and tell you I’m not the same man I was from that bar six years ago, I can’t.” He frowned and pulled his thumb away. “Don’t let the chef’s coat fool you. I still carry my past with me every day like a fucking shadow. So no, the same holds true as it did six years ago. I can’t ever have what I want,” he said in a solemn tone.
“But you want me?” My body was as frail as my voice right now, and I hated it.
He lifted his eyes to the ceiling and said, “The best I can do is protect you and Chiara the only way I know how.”
“And you won’t let me judge your past for myself? What if I’m okay with whatever you’re keeping from me?” I could hear the panic rising in my voice.
“You won’t be,” he said without looking at me.
“My sister knows, right? She’d never let you near me if she thought you were dangerous, though.”
“Natalia doesn’t know everything, trust me.” He stole a look at the cake, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was remembering Bianca and her love of reading. Some of my books back home had once belonged to her, and I planned to give those childhood favorites to Chiara one day.
“I hoped one day we’d . . .” Why waste my words? “If you truly think there’s no chance for us, I don’t see how I can live next door to you anymore. I should move out when the lease is up in November.”
“No.” Enzo abruptly reached for my hand and threaded our fingers together, tugging me his way, and I nearly crashed into his chest. “You can’t leave.”
“How am I supposed to move on with my life? Date again when what I want is on the other side of the apartment wall?”
That look of chaos returned to his eyes, and now I recognized it as something other than anger. An internal battle of restraint.
Tipping my head toward the rolling cart, I whispered, “Enzo . . . you can’t have your cake and eat it, too.” His silence only emboldened me, had me feeling the need to stand up for myself. “Promise me you won’t give any man I date the third degree, then. Look me in the eyes and tell me you won’t stare them down when they show up on my doorstep.”
His gaze flicked to the floor between us for a few agonizing seconds. “I can only promise I won’t kill any of them.” His eyes returned to my face, and the dark expression there had me swallowing as he added, “Unless, of course, it’s to keep you safe.”
TWO
Enzo
Three Weeks Later
“I came here to work out, not to get my ass whooped.” Ryan bent over, holding his abdomen. “I turned forty this year. I’m too old for this shit.”
“Yeah, yeah, and I’m thirty-seven, so what?” I slapped a hand over his shoulder, urging him to stand tall, knowing he wasn’t too old for anything. He’d still be running ops for DEVGRU, more commonly known as SEAL Team Six, if he hadn’t been medically forced into retirement.
“You think I’d let one of my best friends marry a guy who wasn’t tough enough to go up against me?” That had him upright fast.
“Oh, you let Talia marry me, huh? Is that right?”
“That’s right.” A sly grin slid across my lips, one I hoped would lure my friend into raising his gloves again. I needed to relieve some tension, and since I couldn’t do the one thing I wanted to do, I needed to hit something.
Ryan let go of his side, still a little breathless, since we’d been sparring for nearly an hour. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work.” He pointed to the punching bag to our left. “Beat the bag up instead of me. My wife will have both of our heads if we keep at it and I come home with bruises.”