The Price of Thrills

Two Worlds

I stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of Mama's famous gumbo, trying to focus on the familiar motions instead of the storm raging in my mind. The rich, spicy aroma filled the air, a comforting reminder of home that felt so out of place in this sleek, modern kitchen.

"Smells good in here," Enzo's voice came from behind me, startling me out of my thoughts. I turned to see him leaning against the doorframe, his crisp white shirt a stark contrast to his olive skin. He'd loosened his tie, and his dark hair was slightly mussed – signs of a long day at the office.

"Thanks, baby," I said, forcing a smile. "Thought I'd make something special tonight."

Enzo crossed the room, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing a kiss to my neck. "You're something special every night, cara," he murmured, his slight Italian accent making the endearment sound exotic and thrilling, even after all this time.

I leaned into him, savoring the warmth of his body, the familiar scent of his cologne. For a moment, I could almost forget about the test hidden in my bedside drawer, about Darius, about all of it. Almost.

"How was your day?" I asked, turning back to the stove. Keep it normal, I told myself. Just act normal.

Enzo sighed, moving to pour himself a glass of wine. "Long. Negotiations with the Yamamoto Group are... challenging."

I nodded, like I understood the intricacies of international business deals. Truth was, Enzo's world – our world, I guess – still felt foreign to me sometimes. Like I was playing dress-up in someone else's life.

"You'll figure it out," I said, ladling the gumbo into bowls. "You always do."

We settled at the dining table, another place that still didn't quite feel like home. All sleek lines and modern art, a far cry from the worn wooden table where I'd grown up, squeezed between my brothers and sisters.

"This is delicious," Enzo said after a few bites, his smile warm and appreciative. "Your mother's recipe?"

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat. "Yeah. Thought it might be nice to have a taste of home."

Enzo reached across the table, taking my hand in his. "You miss it, don't you? Your family, your old neighborhood."

I shrugged, not trusting myself to speak. Of course I missed it. Missed the noise, the chaos, the sense of belonging. But I'd left all that behind for a reason, hadn't I?

"We could visit soon," Enzo suggested. "It's been a while since we've seen your parents."

The idea sent a jolt of panic through me. How could I face Mama right now? She'd take one look at me and know something was wrong. "Maybe," I said noncommittally. "We'll see how your work schedule looks."

Enzo nodded, seemingly satisfied. We finished dinner, making small talk about his day, about the charity gala coming up next week, about anything and everything except what was really on my mind.

Later that night, I lay awake long after Enzo had fallen asleep. His arm was draped over my waist, his breathing steady and peaceful. I stared at the ceiling, feeling the weight of my secrets pressing down on me.

How had I ended up here? Lying next to this good man, carrying a child that might not be his? I closed my eyes, memories washing over me like a flood...

It had started almost six months ago. A quick trip to my old neighborhood to drop off some clothes at Mama's. I hadn't planned on staying long, but then I'd run into Tasha, my best friend from high school.

"Girl, look at you!" Tasha had exclaimed, pulling me into a hug. "All fancy in your designer threads. You forget where you came from?"

I'd laughed, falling easily into our old patterns. "Please. Like I could ever forget this place."