Page 120 of The Great Dating Fake Off
She’s not wrong about the moping. I’ve been miserable since the second I left Nora’s store. All I have is the photobooth strip I keep in my wallet to remind me of what I can’t have.
The best thing I ever lost.
Ending things hasn’t stopped me from making sure she’s okay, though. I’ve sent Benji into work several days in a row with Nora’s favorite things and strict orders not to tell her where they came from. I don’t want to hurt her more, but I need to know she’s taken care of.
In case this stuff with Nora didn’t suck enough, I’m also growing more aware by the day that my time with Nella and the two knuckleheads staring at me right now are numbered.
Alessia clears her throat. “I’m going to ask you again—”
“Please don’t.”
“Do you want to talk about Nora?”
I grunt. “And say what? I’m leaving, she’s not coming, and therefore we are done. End of story.”
“She knew you were leaving, though, right?” Enzo asks. “You’ve been honest. I’m glad you told her up front.”
“You knew you and your fiancées’ families hated each other,” I point out. “Did that make it suck any less when Ro pointed it out?”
“No. I guess it didn’t.”
“Any change there?” I ask, eager to pivot subjects.
“She’s been texting me the last two days.”
Alessia cocks her head to the side. “About what? Reconciliation?”
“She keeps asking me about random unimportant stuff, like what the password is to our Hulu, whether or not certain mail has come for her, and whether or not I’ve been taking my vitamins. Weird, right?”
“Interesting.” Alessia has that voice she usually reserves for my dumbassery. “It’s almost like she wants your attention.”
“She’s got it,” he grumbles. “She’s always had it. Since the day I met her.”
“I’m going to give it to you straight, Enzo,” she says, meandering toward the sideline to fetch her water bottle. “You need to do something dramatic or you aren’t ever going to get out of this weird limbo you’re in.”
His brows climb to his hairline. “Dramatic? Hasn’t there been enough drama for one lifetime?”
“The good kind, not the shouting-in-the-bowling-alley kind.”
Enzo crosses his arms. “What did you have in mind?”
“I think you know what you need to do,” she lobs back. “You just don’t want to do it.”
His head tips back as he rakes his hands through his hair. “I really don’t.”
“You need to ask her terrible, annoying, possibly well-meaning parents out for dinner. Benji, too. And then make it a monthly thing. That is specifically how you make an effort.” Alessia takes a small bow. “You’re welcome.”
“Monthly?” he says through a groan.
“That seems like an easy fix, considering the scale of the problem,” I tell him.
He shoots me a death glare. “Easy, my ass. You met her parents. If you’ll recall, they were the ones dragging you within an inch of your life at brunch.”
“Yes, but at least there’s a solution to your problem. We should all be so lucky.”
Alessia moves to our side of the net and takes a seat, patting the ground so we’ll follow suit. “There’s a solution to yours, too, Sebastian.”
“Yeah, brother.” Enzo sits beside her with almost the exact same posture, looking like someone accidentally stuttered over the same key on the keyboard twice in a row. “Your only problem is you are head over heels for a woman who also seems to feel the same for you. Cry me a river.”
