blanket around me and was reaching for the remote when my brother came into the living room dressed to go out.
“I’m leaving,” he said, patting his pockets like he was looking for his wallet or phone. “You seen my keys anywhere?”
“On the kitchen counter.”
“Thanks.” He started to walk away and turned back. “Hey, I forgot to tell you. I did you a favor today.”
“What favor?”
“Enzo was asking about you, and I—”
I sat upright. “What? Where? At work?”
“Yeah. He’s paying a few guys cash under the table for side jobs at this new house he bought to flip. Anyway, he asked about you, and I said you were doing great.”
“Oh.” I lay down again. That didn’t mean anything. That was just being polite.
“Then he asked if you ever mentioned him, and I said no.”
“Good.”
“Yeah, he looked kinda mad about that, so I kept going with it.”
I eyeballed my brother from above the edge of the blanket. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I told him you seemed totally fine and you were going out every night until two or three in the morning.” JJ looked pleased with himself.
I bolted upright again. “What?”
“Well, what was I supposed to tell him, that the minute you get home from work you put your pajamas on, eat ice cream for dinner, and cry the rest of the night?”
“No, but—”
“Or that you spend so much time on the couch, the cushions are now shaped like your butt?”
I glared at him. “It’s my couch!”
“Or that you told me you loved him but you left because he doesn’t love you?”
“No!”
“All right then.” He shrugged. “You’re welcome.”
I frowned at him a moment longer before deciding I didn’t have the energy to argue. What did it matter anyway? Why shouldn’t Enzo think I was happier without him, going out to bars at night, talking or dancing with other guys? It’s not like he cared.
JJ left and I turned on the TV. I was trying to decide which sappy romantic comedy would cheer me up most when someone knocked on the door. Figuring my brother forgot to grab his keys, I got off the couch and opened it.
But it wasn’t JJ. It was Enzo.
Immediately my heart began to gallop. He looked so good. Hair combed, scruff trimmed, wearing a gray cashmere sweater that made me want to press my body to his and rest my cheek on his chest.
“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my expression neutral. I touched my damp hair self-consciously, tucking it behind one ear.
“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”
“I guess.” I backed up, giving him plenty of room to enter without coming close to me. Shutting the door behind him, I carefully side-stepped around him into the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks,” he said, following me. “I just came to bring you some things you left at the house.” He set a brown paper bag on the island.
I frowned at it and pushed my glasses up my nose. “I didn’t think I left anything.”
“It’s not much.”
Curious, I peeked into the bag. First I pulled out a big gray T-shirt that said Ciao on it. “This isn’t mine.”
“It isn’t?”
“No.” I checked the tag. “Enzo, it’s a men’s extra large.”
“Oh.” He cleared his throat, tucking his hands into the pockets of faded jeans. “I must have made a mistake then.”
I set it aside and pulled out a pasta and ravioli cutter. “These aren’t mine either.”
“I know, but you really seemed to like them whenever we made homemade pasta,” he said enthusiastically. “I thought you should have the set.”
“Oh.” I did like them—they were professional tools, beautifully made of brass with wooden handles—but mostly what I’d liked about making those meals with Enzo was how much fun we’d had cooking together. “Thanks.”
I put the tools next to the shirt on the island and reached into the bag again, pulling out the unopened box of Clomid.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted those or not,” Enzo said. “I was just going to throw them out, but then I thought maybe you could use them in the future.”
I swallowed hard and set the pills down. “Thanks.”
“There’s only one more thing in there.”
I put my hand in the bag again and as my fingers closed around the small velvet box, I realized what it was. Even though I wasn’t going to accept the gift, I pulled it out. “These aren’t mine, Enzo.”
“Yes, they are. I gave them to you.”
My eyes filled, and I frantically tried to blink away tears. “I can’t keep