Chapter 4 #2
But when he put that first spoonful in his mouth, he understood that everything he’d ever believed about ice cream was wrong.
That had been flavored skim milk, with emphasis on skim, and not on flavor.
This was what ice cream really was. Deep and rich, with the fattiness of the butter and the cream on his tongue. It was sweet, but not too sweet, but also shockingly nutty, the sweet-sour of the cherry brickle breaking up the richness.
Enzo might’ve moaned.
“See?” Rocco said knowingly.
“Damn,” Enzo said. “I might marry him for this ice cream.”
Rocco laughed. “Don’t you dare let Auntie hear you say that.”
“Remember when you brought me that bittersweet chocolate with Valencia orange peel home?” Luca’s voice went wistful. “And then you insisted I share it?”
“Even after I’d eaten half a pint of coconut macaron? Oh, I remember it.”
“It’s less than ten minutes’ walk from Cherry’s to your house. How did you eat half a pint of ice cream?” Enzo asked. Though he was beginning to comprehend the magic of Will’s ice cream.
“If you’d ever eaten the coconut macaron, you’d understand,” Oliver said.
“What I still don’t understand is why I’m supposed to share mine, but you have your own?” Luca joked.
Oliver shot Enzo a conspiratorial glance. “That’s marriage for you. What’s his is mine. And what’s mine is mine.”
Luca made a frustrated noise, but Enzo thought that even if that was actually true of their marriage, he had a feeling Luca would still commit to it one hundred out of one hundred times.
“And everyone’s surprised why I’m not eager to settle down.” Enzo believed Luca and Oliver were meant for each other, but that didn’t mean he wanted that kind of life-changing love for himself. He was very happy with his life now, thank you very much.
And God, the idea that Will believed that he needed his mother to get him dates?
A fresh wave of humiliation washed over Enzo.
Especially because, as Rocco had been so eager to volunteer more than once, Will was no-question-about-it, undeniably hot.
“Nobody expects you to settle down. You’re making bank and living such an exciting life, a new city every few months,” Oliver said, patting his arm.
“Just Giana,” Luca said dryly. “You know that was part of Will’s attraction. He’s here.”
“I’m not moving back home,” Enzo said firmly.
“We know that,” Oliver said gently. “But Giana might be still holding out hope.”
“Maybe I need to come back here more often,” Enzo theorized.
Rocco shot him a look. “If you did that, Auntie might lock you in a closet with Will.”
“Listen, I’ll talk to her,” Luca said.
It was just like Luca to want to intervene. To use his position as de facto head of the Morettis to take care of Enzo’s problem. Luca had been taking care of everyone’s problems forever. Enzo thought in some kind of sick way, he actually enjoyed doing it.
But Enzo shook his head. He was a grown adult now. He didn’t need Luca’s help. “No. No. I’ll talk to her, and I’ll talk to Will.”
“In which order?” Rocco teased.
Oliver smacked him. “Let your cousin alone. It’s bad enough that his own mother is making his life harder. You don’t need to add to it, too.”
“Fine, fine,” Rocco said, with a resigned expression crossing his face. “I’ll leave them alone.”
“Good.”
“I would like to paint the mural, still,” Enzo said. “Giana wasn’t wrong about the location or the building. It’s an ideal spot. But I guess I’ll have to convince Will now.”
“Maybe smooth it over with him first and then yell at Giana,” Luca suggested. “That way she can’t . . .well, interfere worse.”
That was Enzo’s plan. “Then maybe she won’t imagine me ‘smoothing it over’ means something else.”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t consider it, even for a minute,” Rocco said. “She could’ve been doing you a favor. Laying some important groundwork.”
“Rocco,” Oliver warned.
Even though Enzo wouldn’t admit it, and definitely not to Rocco, who’d never let him forget it, he had thought about it.
For the split second after he’d turned around.
When Will had been standing there, dazzling in the dusk, lit by a streetlight.
Before he’d accused Enzo of vandalism and before Enzo had decided he’d been horribly insulted by even the insinuation that what he created was the same as defacing someone’s building.
Yeah, in that moment, he’d thought it. Had thought Will was freaking gorgeous, and even wondered why he’d wasted so much time not coming home when there was someone who looked like him in Indigo Bay.
“Maybe Will’s not Enzo’s type,” Luca said.
“Are you kidding? Will’s everyone’s type.
All you need is eyes.” Rocco stood, stretching out his long, lean body.
He was another chip off the Moretti block, and Enzo could see shades of his own face and also Luca’s in Rocco’s sculpted cheekbones and dark eyes.
“But don’t worry, cousin,” he said, leaning down and giving Enzo a quick hug.
“I’m not gonna move in on your guy. Oliver’s right.
He’s not right for me. I just like looking.
Now, I’m gotta take off. I’ve got an early shift at the bakery. ”
Oliver nodded absently. He was holding hands with Luca, and Luca was leaning over, murmuring something in his ear.
Enzo almost begged Rocco to stay. That he didn’t want to be left alone with all this love in the air. That he was afraid it might be catching.
But that would be ridiculous.
He could spend some time with his cousin and his husband without wanting to crawl out of his skin.
Or without thinking about Will.
Or about Giana’s plans for Will.