Page 104 of The Hitman's Secret Baby
He says nothing.
His face is carved like stone, those eyes narrowed with something I do not recognize, something harder than the man I once loved, but no less familiar.
I don't know what he sees in me, but he searches for it. Maybe the truth.
Maybe just the lie I became.
He leans in, breath warm at my ear, and whispers,
"Get up. Slowly. Come with me."
I glance at Gabriel, who hasn't stirred.
My palm slides against the blanket as I nod, then push the covers aside. I move carefully, careful not to wake the boy who has already been dragged through too many of my past horrors.
My bare feet meet the cold floor, and I rise, knees shaking. Enzo takes my hand.
It's the first time in five years that he has touched me.
His grip is strong, not cruel. It anchors me, and I hate that my fingers close around his without thinking.
I should be running.
Screaming.
But I shut the door to the bedroom behind me, and follow.
We go through the small hallway, past the table where Gabriel's crayons still lie scattered from earlier.
My throat burns. I should never have let myself make this place a home.
The living room is dimly lit by the dying coals in the hearth. E
nzo does not speak as we stop near the old bookshelf.
I turn to face him, the silence stretching long enough that I can feel it pool at my feet.
When he finally speaks, his voice is lower than I remember, rougher. "You look the same."
The words take me by surprise. I blink, once, twice, then press my lips together. "You don't."
His mouth twists into something like a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
He paces once, then stops, arms crossed over his chest.
The coat he wears is tailored, crisp, but his eyes are wild. Not angry, but close.
"You should have told me," he says.
There are so many ways I can respond.
All of them would be lies, because in the end, all roads seem to have led me back here, with Enzo back in my life.
Maybe it won't matter.
Maybe I'll die knowing my son will at least have his father back.
Maybe I'm still dreaming. So, I say nothing.
