Page 62 of Enzo
Yeah, no fucking way I would ever share that with her.
Sure, I could’ve dropped a dramatic confession into the group chat with my girlfriends, but the timing was impeccably awful. Skye was knee-deep in heartbreak over Nikola, my cousins were still recovering from the chaos of a botched engagement and an impromptu organ heist, Amara—a friend who just happened to share my sister’s name—had gone full Eat Pray Hike on a backpacking trip through Europe with her stepsibling. The only exception was that Amara’s version was filled with more Instagram captions. And Anya… well, she was busy waging psychological warfare on her parents to let her study from Albania.
So yeah, maybe not the ideal moment to unload my own crisis.
But then, as if my friends sensed my anguish, my phone buzzed.
Anya: I read a blue alien smut today. I’m never going to be the same.
Amara: Gosh, I didn’t know you moved on to aliens. Do they have big alien ?
I rolled my eyes, not surprised that Skye wasn’t commenting.
Anya: Yes, they do! How did you know? Have you read it?
Amara: You’re barely legal, Anya. You should put alien smut aside for a few more years.
Anya: Go to hell, Amara.
I tucked the phone away, focusing on my own predicament with an Italian dick who happened to be my husband.
“I can’t go back,” I finally said, taking a seat next to her. “I just… can’t.”
“Did you dislike his… bedroom performance?”
“Mama!” My face heated, and even my earlobes turned red. “Seriously, what kind of question is that?”
She sighed. “Well, maybe I didn’t prepare you?—”
“Please don’t finish that sentence.” I scrunched my nose. “For God’s sake, this isn’t the Middle Ages. I have cousins. Friends. The internet even.”
“True.”
“Why can’t I just stay here?” I said, exasperated. “The marriage arrangement has been fulfilled. There were no specifications onlivingarrangements. Right?”
“Well, firstly, I sincerely doubt that Enzo is the type of man to let his wife live elsewhere. Secondly, if you stay here, your husband is bound to follow, and tensions between him and your papà will reach a boiling point.”
“Papà will win,” I muttered, and she narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we don’t want it to get to that. But let me warn you right now, Enzo’s going to be pissed when he sees me.”
Assuming he lived to tell the tale.
Mama’s expression turned cautious.
“What do you mean?” I shrugged. “Penelope!”
“Well, I might have let a cat into his home. And then, um, covered him in catnip so the little furball couldreallyget acquainted with him.”
Mama blinked, not following.
“Enzo’s allergic to cats. At least that’s what his stepmom said.” I tapped my finger against my chin. “A cat allergy can’t kill you… Can it?”
“Jesus Christ, Pen,” she hissed, staring at me in disbelief. “What happened to my sweet, shy firstborn?”
“She grew a set of balls,” I muttered. “Besides, he deserved it.”
“Because…” she urged, still fishing for an explanation, but I remained tight-lipped. “I really didn’t want to go there,” she said with a deep sigh. “But it seems I have no choice.”
“Go where?”
