Chapter 6 #3
“Yes, indeed. I have a copy of Eliza’s journal.
The original is in the state history museum, but I don’t need it, because every word is up here.
” She pointed to her head. “All her love, all her longing, all her faith. Her belief that he’d return.
Then her unselfishness. She never asked him for marriage.
Never expected anything would happen, because she thought he still loved Betsy. ”
“I could never be that unselfish. I’d have demanded his love,” Enzo observed thoughtfully.
Will smiled, because he could see that. Could actually visualize Enzo in front of a man he loved, not letting him feel any differently than he himself did.
“I still think it’s the most beautiful story I’ve heard. And you tell it so lovingly, Joy,” Will said.
“Thanks, Will,” she said and put her arm around him, tugging him into a quick hug. Then she stood. “It’s late, but you got what you needed, Enzo?”
Enzo nodded. When she left, the tinkling bell of Cherry’s indicating her departure, Will wanted to lean forward, memorize every line of Enzo’s drawings, but he figured that would be rude if he hadn’t been invited to, so he forced himself to look away.
To give Enzo the time he needed.
But when the silence drew out between them, he couldn’t resist looking over, just a quick glance.
“Joy was telling me earlier, before you came over, how prickly Morettis can be,” Enzo said quietly, leaning back in his chair, as he tapped the pencil against the shiny surface of the table.
“I don’t know if I’d call it prickly necessarily.” Difficult, was more what Will would’ve called them. Challenging and charming and persuasive, even when you didn’t want to be persuaded.
“I don’t always think I’m a very good Moretti,” Enzo said thoughtfully. “Maybe I’m not. But it means I’m willing to say I’m wrong, when I was wrong.”
He pushed the open sketchbook towards Will, who glanced down at it.
“You were right. It’s the perfect story to paint on your wall,” Enzo continued.
As he stared at Enzo’s drawings, he could feel the impact of the story in the images Enzo had created. Had an idea, already, of how beautiful it would be when it was done.
The high cliff, Eliza’s figure on it, her hair swirling around her, her hand reaching out, towards the ocean, towards the big-masted ship, crashing against the shore, a figure in the water. The wild fierceness of the storm that raged around them.
“Are you sure . . .I’m a newcomer . . .” Will trailed off. He didn’t want anyone assuming that he didn’t deserve to have his building hold such an important piece of Indigo Bay history.
“You love it. I can see it in your eyes that you believe it. That you connect to it. That it matters to you. That’s all that matters to me.” Enzo paused. “All that should matter to anyone is your inspiration ignited my own.”
Will didn’t think he’d ever heard Enzo sound so earnest, so heartfelt. From what he’d seen of the guy, he liked to cultivate an easy, breezy, unbothered, snarky exterior but Will could already tell that there was more going on underneath.
What exactly? Will wasn’t sure yet, but he knew he wanted to find out.
Enzo Moretti was a mystery he wanted to solve.
“Are you sure you’re Enzo Moretti and not some imposter, taking his place for the next few weeks?” Will asked with a teasing tone.
Enzo made a face. “Let me guess, my reputation has preceded me. Who told you?”
“Uh.” Will hesitated. Remembering everything Kate had told him about Enzo, before he’d ever showed his face in Indigo Bay.
“I’m sure they led with the disastrous date. How Oliver didn’t want to date me, and I resented him for it.”
“Well, yeah. They did start with that.” Will squirmed uncomfortably. Recalling how he’d believed that because of that, Giana must have to recruit all his dates.
But the Enzo Moretti in front of him wouldn’t need anyone’s help getting a date.
“Not many queer guys in the town, back then. Different than now.” Enzo looked at him pointedly. Okay, he’d probably heard—or guessed, anyway—about Will. He wasn’t being exactly subtle, with the way he couldn’t help but check out Enzo every time they ran into each other.
Plus, Oliver and Luca had known early on; they’d been the first people he’d told in this town, before he’d even officially moved here.
“I guess it didn’t go well.”
Enzo made a face. “An understatement. It was all wrong. A catastrophe. First off, we were the wrong people for each other. And I was a whiny little punk of a kid who wouldn’t have known how to treat the right guy if he’d drawn out a map for me.
I fucked it up by being an arrogant ass and then complained about it incessantly after. ”
He’d heard this story, of course. But not Enzo’s version.
“That’s hard. For Oliver, and for you, too,” Will said.
He was having a hard time reconciling that guy he’d heard about with the Enzo sitting in front of him now.
A nationally known and renowned mural artist. Unbelievably gorgeous and charming.
The kind of guy anyone would want to go on a date with.
“I grew up,” Enzo said, shrugging. “But some people haven’t forgotten.”
Will got the feeling it wasn’t really the town that hadn’t forgotten but Enzo himself. Because other than the fact that everyone clearly remembered, he hadn’t seen anyone resenting Enzo now.
“That sucks,” Will said. He understood a little about that. Sometimes he thought when his parents and his family looked at him, they still saw that little-too-eager-to-please kid. The one who’d drop anything and everything just to bring a smile to their faces.
But that kid was gone, now. Will had moved on, because he’d had to.
“Honestly, that’s one of the reasons I stay away,” Enzo admitted.
Will wanted to tell him he shouldn’t—because he didn’t think anyone genuinely held his bad behavior against him any longer—but he wasn’t sure it was his place. Were they friends? Just no longer fighting about the mural? He didn’t know.
He only knew that whenever their eyes met, something inside him lit up.
“So, what’s the process here?”
“You’re good with this sketch?” Enzo asked, gesturing to what he’d drawn out.
Will nodded. Probably a little more emphatically than he should’ve. But hey, Enzo had loved his ice cream. He was allowed to love Enzo’s art, too.
“Good.” Enzo folded the sketchbook closed.
“Sometimes, if it’s a bigger piece, I’ll do a full color render, just much smaller, but for this, I don’t think it’s necessary.
I’ll finalize this sketch, make sure it’s properly laid out on the wall, and then transfer the basic idea to the wall.
Tomorrow. Or the day after. Depending on a few things.
I’ve got to order some scaffolding, from Charleston, probably.
We’ll see how fast they can get it here. And paint, I’ll need that.”
“You’d think so,” Will teased.
Enzo grinned at him, and there it was again. That electricity arcing through him in a dazzling wave.
This would be a lot easier if Enzo Moretti was a lot less appealing.
Or that he’d be spending less time outside Will’s building.
Maybe Giana had been onto something, after all.
“Well,” Enzo said, standing and stretching, flashing a strip of tanned bare stomach as he leaned back. “I’ll let you know when I’m starting, for sure. I promise, no more unexpected paint surprises.”
“It’s . . .uh . . .” Will stammered. He did not want to be turned on by Enzo. Enzo was definitely not someone he could touch. He was way too complicated. “It’s fine.” He swallowed. “Give me your number,” he said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “And you can text me updates.”
He told himself he was only asking for that reason.
“Just don’t tell my mom,” Enzo said with a wild grin after he’d recited his number and Will finished typing it into his phone.
Will fake shuddered. “No way,” he agreed. “It’s our secret.”