Page 82 of The Prices We Pay
“It was pretty fucking great.”
“Was that… was that the first time that’s happened?”
“Yeah, it was the first time.”
My hand wraps around his thigh. Despite how much I want to ask him for the details, I know that’s not my place. If he wanted to tell me, he would, and that’s not how I want this to work. They each have a right to privacy in that aspect of their relationships with one another. I don’t want any of them to feel like they owe me an explanation when they are with each other without me, sexually or not. “I’m happy for you.”
He looks at me despite the busy New York traffic. “Are you okay with it?”
I don’t even need to think about my answer. “Sweetie, I have four boyfriends… I’m not exactly one to pass judgment. Plus, it’s like Seb said—the five of us are one unit. As long as it stays within this relationship, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest.”
“I like that.”
“What? Us being one unit?”
“No. Well, yes. But… you calling me Sweetie.”
I swear to fucking god, my heart swells in my chest. I grab his hand in mine and lift it to my lips, planting a soft kiss on his palm. “Good.”
Suddenly, I realize the car has stopped, and Enzo is putting it in park. I look out the window and see the building that we’re parked in front of and ask, “We’re going to church?”
“I mean… we’re goingintothe church, but”—he takes a deep breath—“I have a meeting. An AA meeting, and I want you to come with me.”
And now my heart might be exploding.
“Enzo…” I say softly.
“I understand if you don’t want to. And I understand if this part of who I am bothers youafter everything that happened with your dad, but I just… I just wanted you to know this about me. It’s part of who I am. I’m not ashamed of it, but… but I understand if you are.”
Quickly, I unbuckle his seatbelt and take his face in my hands. “Stop. Don’t think that. Do not ever think that. I would never be ashamed of you for this. I know firsthand how much this disease can take over someone’s life, and I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud of you for fighting every single day to be better. My dad’s mistakes are not your mistakes. I would never be ashamed of you for something that he did. Do you hear me?” Tears pool in his eyes. “Does Dante know?”
Enzo nods. “Yes. I told him right after I found out about his parents.”
“And what did he say?”
He huffs out a sarcastic laugh. “Pretty much the same thing you just said.”
Smiling, I lean across the center console and kiss him. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
Enzo ushers me inside the church, where he introduces me to everyone before the meeting starts.Once it does, we all take our seats. Several people go up to talk about the accomplishments and struggles they’ve had since the last meeting, and when it’s Enzo’s turn, he whispers in my ear, “Please stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He kisses my cheek before standing and walking to the front of the room. Even in such an informal setting, his presence commands the space. The moment he faces the crowd, I watch the shoulders of everyone stand a little straighter, eager to hear what he has to say. “Hi. My name is Lorenzo.” His Italian accent makes his name sound like it should never be spoken in any other way. “And I’m an addict.”
“Hi, Lorenzo,” the rest of the room sounds in unison.
“I’d like to share my story today, if that’s okay with all of you?” Everyone nods. He scans the crowd, acknowledging everyone, but then locks his stare on me. It’s intense and soft all at the same time. “I found out I was an addict during my first year of college sixteen years ago. However, Icouldn’t find it in me to care for another two years. Growing up in Europe, I had my fair share of glasses of wine with dinner, but it had never been a problem. I was always under the supervision of my parents and was never curious enough to sneak around elsewhere. I didn’t have a rough home life. I had no traumatic past. My life was as perfect as any child would have wanted it to be. But when I came to college in the States, I all of a sudden had free reign to drink and party as much as I wanted. I quickly realized that I had no self-control.” He puts his hands in his pockets and shifts side-to-side as he continues,“Eventually, it got to the point where I couldn’t even make it to lunch without having a drink. One night, I was at a party where some of the kids on campus were doing coke. They offered me a hit, and I figured, why the hell not? I thought I had a “handle” on the alcohol, so I figured I could deal with coke, too. Spoiler alert. I couldn’t.”
A round of faint laughter echoes through the church.
“Anyway… It all got bad. Like, really fucking bad. I became an expert at hiding it from people. I was sneaking alcohol into class, binge drinking at parties every other night, and doing lines in the morning to get myself through the day. Nobody knew how deep into it I was. They all just thought I was the guy who was always having a good time. Until one night during my junior year.” Enzo takes a deep breath. “My best friend found me in the bathroom at a house party we were at. I was on the floor. Almost dead. My heart stopped on the way to the hospital…twice.” I can feel a tear roll down my cheek, and even from across the room, I watch as Enzo’s eyes follow it until it drops onto my lap. “I almost lost everything, and one of the people who I love most in this world had to witness it. I’ll never forget that look on his face. When I woke up in the hospital, surrounded by the people that I love—my parents, Luca, his parents—I knew right then and there that I never wanted to put anyone through that ever again. I almost killed myself… and for what?” Enzo’s voice cracks on the last word. “Anyway. I’ve been sober ever since. It’s something I have to work at every day, but I’ve been sober for thirteen years, six months, two weeks, and three days.”
Everyone claps, and Enzo walks back toward me. I don’t wait for him to get to me. I meet him halfway down the aisle and wrap him in my arms. “Thank you for not dying. Thank you for staying… for living,” I whisper against his chest. I’m covering his expensive suit jacket in tears, and I don’t even care because he’s here. Enzo lived, and now I get to know him. I get to see his beautiful smile, hear his cheesy pickup lines, and watch him antagonize his best friends. He’shereand… “I’m so fucking proud of you,” I repeat as I look up at him.
He swipes a lock of hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear. He holds my face in his hands, just like I did to him in the car. Wiping the stream of tears with the pads of his thumb, he smiles down at me and answers, “I’m proud of me too.”
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