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What could possibly go wrong?
17
Enzo
“What the hell, Enz?”
Devon is extremely pissed. Rightly so.
“I’m sorry.”
The words seem so inadequate, but I don’t know what else to say. Keeping this from him was a shitty thing to do, and I especially shouldn’t have come here tonight knowing Chari didn’t want to tell him yet. But I wasn’t lying to Chari: I really didn’t put much thought into it. I couldn’t concentrate. Pacing my apartment did no good. Looking at my couch only made me think of Chari spread across it. So I acted on impulse. Uncharacteristically, as so many people have commented on tonight.
“So? What are your intentions?”
This is the question I’ve been waiting for.
“I’d never hurt her,” I say honestly. Devon knows that. I think. But it still bears saying.
“Not intentionally. But come on, Enzo. I know you better than anyone.”
A round of laughter reaches us from the bar, which only seems to underscore the serious mood between us.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Although I’m pretty sure I already know.
“If you don’t have time for a Yankees game . . .”
My family got Devon and I to root for them at a young age, and we both became lifelong fans. So when I got Dev tickets to a playoff game and told him to take a friend, that I was too busy with work, he blasted me. Told me point-blank that he respected everything I’d done but my money was no good to me if I couldn’t enjoy life.
Of course, my mother has been saying the same for years. But they just don’t understand. I’m building something, and that requires sacrifice.
“We’re just dating,” I say in a futile attempt to pacify him. “Listen, Dev, no one is more surprised by this than me. We talked a bit when I came here for the opening. And things just progressed from there.”
“An awful quick progression,” he huffed. “Switzerland?”
I wince. “Yeah, I know.”
And I do. It’s not like me at all. But that’s the point.
“I’d never fuck around with Chari. You know that.”
Devon still has his arms crossed, closed-down body language if I’ve ever seen it. He’s always been this protective of Chari, only now it’s directed at me. I hate being at odds with him. It’s like fighting with one of my siblings. But worse. They have no choice but to stay related to me.
“I do. But I also know you’re a workaholic. And that you co-own an international business. Something that’s not exactly conducive to a long-term relationship.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
“And the second thing?” Because I can tell there’s something he’s not saying, something he needs to say in order to clear the air between us.
He hesitates.
“Dev?”
“I can’t. She’ll kill me.”
The hair on the back of my neck rises.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
