Chapter Twelve
Their date at Rudy’s had been good enough, Enzo mused, but he needed something bigger, better, even more elaborate than a steak, a good bottle of wine and a faux goodnight kiss in front of Eliza’s statue for this next one.
So he went to his cousin.
Five years ago, he’d never have considered Luca an expert on romance. In fact, he didn’t think Luca would’ve considered himself an expert on romance. An expert on lots of other things, sure, but not romance. Not until he’d met Oliver.
When he took a break for lunch, Enzo texted Luca, and when he found out he was at the deli, he headed in that direction.
Found Luca in a T-shirt and an apron, gloves on, sleeves metaphorically rolled up, mixing up meatballs in a gigantic metal bowl in the back kitchen.
“Hey,” Luca said. “You’re lucky you caught me before I got my hands in this. What’s up?”
“What are you making?” Enzo leaned in, sniffed. The mixture was raw, sure, but it looked and smelled delicious.
“A variation of Nonna’s meatballs with ground chicken, roasted garlic, and blanched broccoli rabe,” Luca said. “Gabe said he’d done one, as a special, at the food trucks in Los Angeles, and it was popular, so I thought I’d try it here.”
“Sounds good.” Enzo’s stomach grumbled. “How long til they’re ready? I’m starving.”
“Been working all morning, huh? Give me twenty minutes and I can get them on a sandwich for you. You can be my first taste tester.”
“Perfect,” Enzo said. “And yeah. Just finishing up the outlines. I think tomorrow I’ll be able to start on the actual paint. I’m running out to Charleston tonight, to get paint. You need anything?”
Luca shook his head. “It’s coming along.
I walked by it yesterday and I swear I can already feel the waves and the wind,” he said, giving Enzo an approving smile.
He finished mixing with one last flourish, and turned to the sink, meticulously scrubbing his hands.
“So, you gonna tell me why you really came by? If you just wanted food, you’d have called the main deli line and ordered. ”
Enzo leaned against the long stainless steel counter and forced himself to relax. He’d told Luca about Will already. Talking about him more wasn’t a big deal. After all, everyone was supposed to be buying into the show, not just his mother.
“I’m taking Will out on Monday,” Enzo said.
To his surprise, Luca frowned. “Again?”
“Of course again. To hear the rest of the town talk about it, our first date was the greatest in the history of Indigo Bay.”
But Luca was still frowning. “No, that’s your mother who keeps saying that to anyone who will listen. I was convinced, after Rocco talked to me, that you were just doing it to get her off your ass. Not because you really liked him.”
“I . . .uh . . .that’s not true.”
But his stuttering surprise at Luca’s painfully pinpoint accuracy had probably ruined his denial.
Luca glanced over at him as he grabbed a metal ice cream scoop and began portioning out the meatballs onto a tray. “So you like him and all this is for real? You know he’s—”
“I know he’s staying, yeah. He has a business here. It would be hard not to know that,” Enzo interrupted. “You did it with Oliver. Started something even though you didn’t think it was going to be forever.”
“I was lying to myself,” Luca said steadily. “I don’t think you’re lying to yourself. You don’t love it here.”
It was true. He didn’t. He never had.
He could admit that this visit was leaps and bounds better than every other one he’d had. It helped, of course, to have a purpose and a job to do—and one he was very good at, that he loved. But he had a feeling it was more than that, too.
It was Will.
But it wasn’t just him. It was that Enzo had grown up, finally, and he could see this place more accurately, now that he’d been in so many other places.
His travels had given him perspective.
Maybe not that much perspective, but he could admit that he didn’t think he’d ever returned to Indigo Bay, spent at least a week, or even a few days, and hadn’t already wanted to leave again.
But he hadn’t felt that way this time around. Not once.
“No, I don’t want to stay, but . . .” Enzo hesitated. “I don’t hate it the way I used to.”
Luca rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me the power of love has changed your mind.”
“Why not? Didn’t it change yours?”
“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to stay. I didn’t think I could stay,” Luca said. “Will’s a good guy. A solid guy. A friend. And I wouldn’t be proud to call him that unless I warned you not to fuck with him.”
“Trust me, I’m not.”
But aren’t you? Aren’t you fucking with yourself?
“It kind of feels like you’re doing something,” Luca said. “Rocco said you guys were calling each other ridiculous nicknames. Stud Muffin.” He frowned. “I know you, Enzo, and this isn’t you.”
“Maybe it’s me, now,” Enzo claimed. But he knew how weak his argument was.
Luca shook his head. “No, it’s not. If this is some kind of elaborate scheme to get Giana off your back, I applaud it, but she’s going to be pissed when the truth comes out.”
“Maybe.”
“Disappointed and pissed.”
Enzo swallowed hard. “Okay, that’s probably accurate.” But he couldn’t quit the charade now. Not when he enjoyed it so much. Not when the thought of stopping made him desolate in a way he didn’t want to examine too closely.
“You know it is,” Luca said pointedly.
“Okay, fine. The truth? Maybe I went out with him because I was curious, and to get Mom off my back. I’ll admit that. But now . . .” Enzo took a deep breath. “I really like him. I do. There’s nothing fake about that.”
“And you want to keep this up?”
If Will didn’t think they were faking it for the town’s gossip mill, Enzo wasn’t sure he’d want to keep hanging out. If he’d let Enzo continue to call him his Stud Muffin. And letting him touch him.
“We’re in this, now,” Enzo said.
“You know.” Luca turned to him and put a hand on his shoulder, gaze sympathetic.
Or maybe even empathetic. Because yes, while his situation with Oliver had been slightly different, there were similarities.
“You can like him. You’re allowed. But you know if you do, if you really let yourself go there, leaving is going to be wretched. For both of you.”
Enzo swallowed hard. “Yeah. Probably.”
He didn’t want to say, But he’s the guy. How could he not be, when I’ve never wanted to spend so much time with someone just pretending to like them?
Maybe he didn’t need to, though, because the look on Luca’s face made it clear he understood anyway.
“You want to have what you can, while you can have it.” Luca nodded absently, his eyes distant, like he was remembering a time when he’d felt the same. “I get that. So you want to take him out on Monday. You want me to get you into the restaurant.”
“You and Oliver run the nicest place on the coast. But it’s booked up months in advance.” Enzo made a face. “You guys need more tables.”
“Then we’d be busier than we are, already, and that’d be no good, because I actually like seeing my husband,” Luca said with amusement.
“Come on, Luca. Fit me in.”
“You’ll never be able to go back from this,” Luca warned.
Enzo understood that he meant in multiple kinds of ways. If Giana heard that Enzo had begged Luca to fit him and Will in for a romantic date, she’d believe this was it.
And maybe if he took Will on a romantic date, he’d end up believing the exact same goddamn thing.
It wasn’t like he wasn’t already in deep. It had been two days since their skinny dip in the ocean, and it felt like Will was constantly in his thoughts.
He sketched something and wondered, what will Will think of it?
He painted on Will’s wall and thought about him looking at it every single day as he walked by it.
He ate something and wanted to know what Will’s face would look like if he tried it too.
He turned on a ridiculous, over-the-top romantic movie on TV and wondered if he could convince Will to re-enact any of the scenes with him.
He was haunting Cherry’s, spending too much time in there, just surreptitiously watching the man.
It was becoming a real problem.
“I know,” Enzo said, agreeing with Luca’s assessment. Agreeing and wanting to move forward anyway.
“Alright,” Luca said with a nod. “I’m proud of you, you know?”
Enzo cracked a smile. “I thought this was supposed to be the baseball bat talk.”
Luca laughed. “Don’t you think I’d be giving him that? You’re my cousin.”
But the cousin you didn’t really like and didn’t want, forever.
“I . . .uh . . .”
Luca did a double take. “You did think that I would.” He paused and set down the ice cream scoop.
Turned to Enzo, put both hands on his shoulders, and gave his most earnest, most soulful Moretti look.
Luca didn’t often use it. Of course he didn’t usually need to.
His hard-ass Moretti look worked better.
But not right now.
“You’re a great guy, Enzo. You’ve grown up into a great man.
If you didn’t know I’m proud of you, I’m sorry.
I’m not very good at showing it. Oliver tells me I need to be better.
We didn’t start out on a very auspicious foot, I’ll admit, but you saw you needed to change, and you changed.
You fought for every single change I see in you now. How could I not be proud of that?”
Enzo was speechless.
He didn’t have a father. He didn’t have brothers.
He’d never had any family besides his mother, really, especially because the rest of the Morettis were all on the west coast. Even though he’d been brought into their fold during his time in San Francisco, he still hadn’t been one-hundred-percent convinced that Luca even liked him, even though they’d mended their differences ages ago.
But this was more than like. Luca loved him, like he loved his father and his brothers and his cousins.
Like Enzo was one of the people Luca worried for and watched out for. And even when Enzo hated it, he could still appreciate that Luca did it out of loyalty and responsibility and yes, pure, unadulterated affection.
“Oh. Oh.”