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“Yes, Enzo,” she said.
“Hope,” I said, my voice taking on an edge.
She smiled. “What’s the problem, Molly?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re sounding way too reasonable, and it’s suspicious as fuck.”
Hope countered, “And you’re almost pouting, which tells me I'm on to something. So why don’t you save us both the headache and tell me what’s going on?”
“I saw Enzo at your wedding, but we didn’t talk,” I said.
“That doesn’t seem to be a problem now,” she said.
“No, but…” I trailed off, trying to put into words what I felt.
Enzo had been great. Better than great. I’d tried to keep perspective, telling myself I’d enjoy whatever time we had and when it was over, maybe we’d leave as friends. Simple enough, but I learned nothing was simple with Enzo.
“He feels so familiar. I feel…safe with him,” I finally said.
“That’s not a bad thing,” Hope said.
“No, but it’s weird. And I don’t like it,” I said.
“You don’t like Enzo?” she said.
“No, I don’t like Enzo because I like the way he makes me feel way too much for it to be healthy,” I said. Then I giggled. “But ignore me. You know how I can get.”
“Nope, don’t try to shut me out, Molly. And if something’s wrong, you can tell me,” she said.
“Nothing’s wrong.” She looked at me skeptically. “Really. He just feels familiar, and I worry that it’s clouding my perspective. It’s probably best to be on my toes with him.”
Hope didn’t look completely convinced, but she didn’t push, either.
“But that’s enough of that. That idiot has been taking up far too much of my time. I can’t waste my visit with you talking about him.” I smiled.
“No, this I want to hear,” she said.
I laughed. “Fine. He’s the most ridiculous human being on planet Earth,” I said.
“I’m not disagreeing,” she responded.
“But…I don’t know,” I said.
“You don't know?” Hope said.
“Fine. He’s…fun,” I said.
“Very much, but you say that like he shouldn’t be,” she said.
“I mean, he shouldn’t be. I haven’t asked any questions, but I’m not an idiot. And I don’t think that sweet Mona Moretti has armed guards at her house because her husband made his fortune in imported Italian marble,” I said.
Hope murmured noncommittally.
It was the best I would get from her.
I hadn’t even made any allusions to what Nico might do, because I knew it would be futile. A belief that was proven when Hope essentially shut me down before I even said a word.
“Point is, he’s not a college student, or a semi-professional football player, or a bouncer. You know, the usual,” I said. “He’s something…more. And I might be out of my depth,” I said.