“We will!” Jonathan says cheerfully. “Thanks again, Enzo! I appreciate you looking after my wife!”
Is he genuinely thanking my husband for pawing at his wife?
I wish I could say that I’m relieved when they drive away. But it’s hard to ever get rid of somebody when they live right next door to you.
THIRTY-NINE
“What? You think I should let her drown, Millie? Is that what you want?”
I have been moping around all evening, ever since we returned home from the beach. Despite only having been there less than an hour, there is sand all over everything. Every crack of my body seems to have a few grains of sand in it. Even after showering, I still feel a bit sandy.
So yes, I’ve been cranky. And when we got into our bed to turn in for the night, I couldn’t help but remark about Enzo’s heroic rescue in the ocean.
“I didn’t want you to let her drown,” I grumble. “But did you have to save her like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like…” I sit up in bed, scratching at my toes, which still feel like they have sand between them. “Like, so… heroically.”
His lips twitch. “Heroically?”
“I mean, she could have walked back to the car by herself. Or Jonathan could have walked with her.”
He shrugs. “She wanted me.”
“I’ll bet.” I grit my teeth. “And how convenient that the client canceled.”
“No, not convenient.” He frowns. “I wanted to meet the client. I want this job.”
“You didn’t look surprised when they didn’t show.”
“Because she told me this morning. But I still wanted to have beach day with you and the kids.”
“Right.”
He grunts. “Millie, this is ridiculous. I do not understand why you are upset.”
“Okay, so if some handsome guy pulled me out of the water and was fawning over me, that wouldn’t bother you at all?”
“No, it would not.”
If that’s true, that makes me even more upset. Why wouldn’t he be jealous if some handsome guy were hitting on me?
“Because I trust you,” he adds before I can get myself more worked up. “And you can trust me. You know that, yes?”
Do I? Before we moved to 14 Locust Street, the answer would have been a resounding yes. But the amount of time he’s been spending with Suzette Lowell has made me suspicious. I mean, a conversation about rose bushes in the middle of the night? Really?
Yet Enzo is a good man. I believe that with all my heart.
He’s staring at me, waiting for me to reply, and there’s only one right answer: “Yes, I trust you.”
“Good. Now calm down. If Suzette turns up murdered, you will be first suspect.”
“Ha ha.”
Enzo reaches over to shut out the light. He moves closer to me, his arm encircling my body. He’s in the mood—I can tell. But I can’t get into it. Even though he has assuaged some of my worries about what happened at the beach, one of them still remains, and I can’t quite let it go.
“Enzo,” I say.
“Shh,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up my thigh. “No more talk about Suzette.”
“But… how do you think Suzette got caught under the water?”
His hand comes to a quick halt. “What?”
“I mean,” I say, “she said her leg got caught on something and that’s what made her go under the water. What do you think she got caught on?”
“Seaweed?”
“So seaweed grabbed her by the leg and pulled her under the water?”
He removes his hand from my thigh altogether. “I don’t know. Maybe some kids fooling around?”
“Which kids? Did you see any other kids swimming where she was?”
He is silent for a moment. “I do not understand. What is your worry?”
“I just…” I grip the blanket with my fists. “Did you notice Nico talking to her? Like, right before this whole drowning thing happened?”
