5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Turning the corner to Main Street, Will gave up even trying to stifle his third neck-cracking yawn of the morning.

He'd known, of course, that running his own business without the benefit of the Johnson last name would be hard. Worthwhile, but hard.

He'd still underestimated how much it sucked to be the only one who he felt completely comfortable relying on in a pinch. Kate was wonderful, and he knew she'd grow into a great manager, but she was still new enough that he didn't feel like he could call her at all hours.

Like he'd been called last night, by Luca.

So he'd dragged himself out of bed—a bed he'd just collapsed into, gratefully—and gone back down to the shop, opening it up and grabbing another few gallons of Tahitian vanilla bean for Luca and the restaurant he ran with Oliver.

He wished he'd grabbed another cup of coffee from Joy, pouring it into one of her to-go cups, before he'd left the Inn. But he'd stubbornly believed that he'd only needed the one.

Will yawned again, and it was why he missed the figure stepping out from the morning shadows underneath the white and bright pink striped awning over the Cherry's door.

His first reaction was, Oh yes please. Because in the bright morning light, Enzo Moretti was gorgeous. Even prettier now than he'd been in the dusk, last night. His second was, What the hell does he want now?

Maybe he could have been more diplomatic last night, but it wasn't like he was any less tired or any less cranky this morning. He'd woken to his alarm blaring, body aching from a long day of work and the long workout he'd indulged in after, and cock aching from the dry spell of a century. He didn't want to play nice with Enzo.

For the first and the second. Because the first made him want to tell him to fuck off. And the second made him want to tell Enzo to fuck him .

"Hey," Enzo said. He pulled away from the brick wall he'd been leaning on.

Will ignored that he was carrying two cups of coffee. Because of course he was. Was there anything more gorgeous in the morning than a man in jean shorts and a T-shirt that hugged all his curves, carrying coffee?

"What do you want now?" Will knew his tone was short, but it was the best he could do, all things considered.

It was so unfair that Enzo was going to rub his attractiveness and smug assholeness in this morning.

He extended the coffee towards Will, who didn't take it. Offering a blinding smile, along with the caffeine.

"I think we might've gotten off on the wrong foot yesterday," Enzo said. Enzo being persuasive was even hotter than Enzo being a jerk.

Unfortunately.

"I can't imagine what you mean. I found you painting on my building. My building," Will dryly, still ignoring the coffee, even though he really wanted to take it—and more. He was going to blame this momentary weakness on exhaustion. He unlocked the door and stepped through it, not holding it for Enzo. Hoping that would be enough to dissuade him from following.

It did not.

"I know. And I'm really sorry about that. I didn't realize you hadn't been told about the mural." Another charming smile. Will didn't know how he hadn't recognized the man immediately, from the first moment. Because Luca and Giana also smiled like that, and the effect never failed to captivate anyone within a mile radius.

"Clearly." Will had realized that too, when he'd calmed down enough to think about it.

He flipped lights on, heading behind the counter. He didn't think Enzo would be ballsy enough to continue following him, but sure enough, there he came, coffee still in hand.

"Then let me apologize. For me. And for my interfering mother," Enzo said persuasively, stopping just where Will did, short of the door to the back kitchen. He lifted the coffee again. "Come on, take my peace offering. You look tired."

Will made a face and gave in. Grabbed the cardboard coffee cup, making sure not to touch Enzo while he was at it.

No point in making things worse.

"Isn't it rude to tell someone they look tired?" Will grumbled, sipping the coffee. He'd expected it to be too sweet and prepared totally wrong. But it was perfect, exactly the way he liked it.

Glancing at the cup again, he couldn't miss either the Sweetie Pie's logo—Oliver's bakery—or the large black W scrawled on the side.

Enzo shrugged. "It's the truth."

"How did you know how I liked my coffee?" Will asked, changing the subject. To something safer than how he looked. Before he lost his head and asked Enzo if he liked looking, as much as he liked looking back.

"This is Indigo Bay. It's a really freaking small town. I could find out anything about anyone, easy as breathing," Enzo said, waving the question away. "Do you like it? Is it right? Rocco said it would be."

"Weirdly, yes," Will said, taking another long sip. "Thanks."

Enzo finished his coffee. Tossed it in one of the large square trashcans behind the counter. "Am I forgiven then?"

"Is that why you're here?"

Will was sure he was here to apologize and to convince Will to let him paint the mural.

On his way back to the Inn after closing, he'd stopped by the wall. Found the paint gone. No evidence that Enzo had even been there.

The moment he'd finished cleaning the wall, Will had loved it exactly the way it was. But he'd looked at it last night and had thought, just for a second, that maybe it was a little too big and too blank.

He'd intended to tell Enzo no , firmly and definitely.

But now he wasn't quite sure.

"You know why I'm here." There was no question Enzo knew how to charm. The same way he knew how to lean against the back counter, that gorgeous body on display, as he flashed another of those devastating smiles.

Maybe it shouldn't have but it made Will grumpier.

You didn't enjoy being hungry while forced to stare at something delicious—especially when you couldn't possibly take a bite out of it.

"You want to paint the mural," Will stated. He didn't want to mess around.

Okay. He did , but he wasn't going to. Enzo wasn't staying, and that was enough, without all the other Giana-shaped considerations.

"I didn't, actually. That was all my mom's idea. But then I saw your wall, and I hate to tell you, but it's perfect."

"It should be. I spent a whole freaking week cleaning shit off it."

"I bet you did," Enzo said. "I usually have to do that work. But you've already done it."

"What are you going to paint on it?" Will asked.

"Uh." Enzo hesitated. "I don't know actually. My clients . . .that's usually something they concede to me ."

Will stared at him. "Let me get this straight. They pay you to paint a mural on their building, but you get to decide what it is."

Enzo winced. "Yeah. I . . .well, I've learned that's the best way for me to work. And the demand is there, so it made sense for me to make it a requirement."

It was beginning to make more sense why Will's graffiti accusation had bothered Enzo so much. Of course, Will had already begun to see why. Last night, when he'd opened Enzo's Instagram, and not only had the follower number taken him aback, but the undeniable artistry of his work.

You should just let him do it.

But what if he ended up with something he hated?

Will was so proud of Cherry's, of finally having something he could claim as his, something he had worked so hard to carve out.

He wasn't about to cede any part of it to someone else.

"No," Will said.

"No?" Enzo lifted a dark eyebrow.

"No, you don't get to decide what you're painting on my wall."

"Oh." Enzo had the nerve to look disappointed. He straightened. "I . . .I do hope you change your mind, honestly. It's a beautiful building now."

"And what, your mural would make it look even better?" Will asked archly.

Enzo flushed. "Something like that."

"Well, I'll think about it," Will said. That wasn't just lip service, because he was already beginning to think he'd made a mistake.

Stay strong. You don't need to tangle yourself up with Enzo Moretti.

But he wanted to.

"Don't wait too long," Enzo said, flashing him one final smile as he headed towards the door. "I'm not going to be around forever."

But he hadn't had to say it, because Will already knew it.

It didn't surprise Enzo much, but his mom was avoiding him.

She'd had dinner with them last night, but then she'd had a "meeting" and then this morning when he'd walked into her kitchen, it had been empty already.

Clearly she'd discovered that he knew the truth about the mural, and she didn't want him to yell at her.

Killing two birds with one stone, he swung by Sweetie Pie's, Oliver's bakery and coffee shop, to pick up apology coffee for Will but when he asked Marjorie if she'd seen his mother, she'd shaken her head no.

Then after talking to Will, he headed to the deli, but Luca was there by himself, and he said he hadn't seen her.

Frustration mounted as he stepped back onto the sidewalk.

He'd needed to make it clear what she'd done was completely inappropriate, nevermind unprofessional, and that was before he'd found out that Will might be charmed into forgiving him, but he wasn't interested in discussing the mural.

Enzo had told himself that was fine. He could simply take a vacation and rest and enjoy himself. But then he'd walked by the wall again, and damnit, he wanted to paint it as badly as he'd wanted to paint anything, ever.

Grabbing his phone he texted Rocco. You seen my mother? he asked.

Rocco answered almost immediately. Yeah. She's at Oliver's. Figured she was safe from your wrath because you'd already been by.

That was even worse. He wondered who'd given her a heads-up that he'd found out.

Enzo walked back down to Sweetie Pie's, and yep , there she was, sitting by the big window at one of the small tables that dotted the bright, cheery space, enjoying a cappuccino.

"There you are," he said, taking the seat opposite her.

Giana pasted on an innocent-looking expression, but he knew her too well to believe it was true. "Oh, were you looking for me?"

"Who told you?" Enzo was grumpy and he didn't even want to hide it.

Not only had she probably ruined his chance at painting that gorgeous blank wall, she'd been advertising to Will—hot, delectable Will—that he couldn't get a date on his own.

"I don't know what you mean," she claimed.

"Come off it, I know what you did. You didn't even bother to ask Will about the mural. You do realize we need his permission to paint his wall, right?"

"I thought he'd be honored," Giana said with a sniff.

"You're kidding, right?" Enzo made a face. "It really wasn't cool. And it really wasn't cool for you to be soliciting dates for me. I can get my own dates."

"Can you?"

Enzo groaned. "Mom, I'm not interested in Will, no matter what you think. I'm busy. I'm going places. I'm crazy busy right now. I don't need to settle down, or whatever it is you've decided I should be doing."

"You don't even have a home . You're living out of a suitcase." She leveled an experienced Moretti stare at him.

"And?"

"And it's sad. I want more for you, darling, than just an empty hotel room and a duffel bag full of clothes."

"I have more than that," Enzo said between clenched teeth. "In any case please stop trying to throw me at Will. It's embarrassing."

"Because you like him! Because you think he's cute! Oh, he is cute, isn't he? I thought so the moment I saw him. And then Luca told me he was gay, and I knew he was perfect for you."

"He's not anything for me," Enzo repeated as patiently as he could. "And because you interfered, now he's pissed at me and doesn't want me to paint the mural. That's not only disappointing, but it makes me look unprofessional, Mom. And I am a professional."

"Oh, of course you are a professional, darling! You're so good at your job. Brilliant, really." Giana made a face. "I'm sorry. I just thought it would be such a lovely surprise."

"The mural? Or Will?" Enzo asked dryly.

"Well, both ," she retorted fondly. "Did you not think he was cute?"

Enzo had no intention of telling her how cute Will really was. At least if Giana was attempting matchmaking in earnest now, she had good taste.

"That's not the point," Enzo said. "You've got to stop doing this stuff. I'm my own man now."

Her face fell a little, and that guilt he was far too familiar with swamped him yet again. "I know," she said in a quiet voice. "I suppose I should have talked to him about it."

"Asked his permission," Enzo stressed. "And I should have asked more questions. Made it a more formal proposal. Now I'm not going to get to do it, and that's disappointing."

Giana looked as disappointed as he felt. Maybe she'd been harboring some secret hope that even if her overt matchmaking didn't work out, Enzo painting Will's building might lead to more.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't know. I didn't realize."

Enzo resolutely shoved the guilt to the side. "Yes, you did. But it's okay." He reached out and took her hand. "I get it. You just want me to be happy. But I am happy."

She didn't look convinced. Enzo didn't know if it was because she didn't understand what did truly make him happy or because he wasn't quite convincing enough.

He was happy. Though maybe he did wonder, just a little, whenever he saw his cousin and his husband together what it would be like to have a partner like that. A love like that.

But then he remembered that falling in love that way would mean nailing him down to a single spot, and he couldn't deal with that.

Couldn't live like that again.

"Alright, darling," she said. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No, no. You've done enough damage, already."

"You don't think I'd make it worse, do you?" she asked with surprise as she set her cup onto its saucer.

"Oh, of course not. You'd just try to convince him to date me again," Enzo grumbled.

"He should want to date you."

"Well, it's not happening. He's . . ." Gorgeous. And even cuter when he's annoyed with me, which he is now, thanks to you . "He lives here, Mom. And I don't." He tried to say it with as much gentleness as he could, but she still frowned.

"I understand," she said and stood. "I've got to meet Joy. We're going to Charleston to find some antiques for the expansion of the Inn."

Enzo didn't remember his mother being quite so close to Joy Billings. Eighteen-year-old Enzo would've been thrilled at this development, but twenty-seven-year-old Enzo was just confused why he'd missed this happening.

"I didn't know the two of you were so close," he said casually as she wrapped him up in a quick hug.

"Oh, since I moved back to town, yes. She's a delightful person, Enzo."

"Just like her son, I'm sure." But there was no heat in his voice. He'd gotten over Oliver ages ago.

"Are you going to stay here?"

"Yeah, I'll have another cappuccino. Maybe sketch some." What he wanted to do was sketch some ideas for the mural—but he wasn't convinced Will would change his mind.

Maybe he should go back to Cherry's and deploy some additional Moretti charm to persuade him.

"Are you sure you don't want me to talk to him?" Giana asked. And Enzo knew exactly who she was referring to. "Maybe if I apologized, smoothed things over, he'd see things differently."

He might. But Enzo couldn't risk her pimping him out again.

"No, it's fine," Enzo said. "I have other work I can play around with. And maybe I can convince Rocco to play hooky."

He pulled out a pencil and his sketchpad from his back pocket.

"You shouldn't," Giana said but she was smiling.

"I'll see you later," Enzo said. "Have fun with Joy."

But before she could walk out the door, it was opening and there was Will standing there, in another of his tight white T- shirts, two cherries with their stems intertwined embroidered on the pocket.

"Oh, Will," Giana said excitedly, beckoning him over and Enzo had to clamp his lips together so he didn't groan out loud.

"I'm so glad I ran into you," she continued, and Enzo was relieved that at least she'd pasted on her most contrite expression. "I wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding."

Will raised an eyebrow. He didn't look convinced by her show of remorse.

"It must've just slipped your mind to tell me," Will said.

"Yes, exactly," Giana said, giving him one of her brightest smiles.

Enzo recognized that smile and didn't think Will would be able to resist it, and sure enough, he didn't. He melted. Only a little, but it was enough.

"Well, no harm, no foul," Will said, and then he turned to Enzo. "I was hoping I'd catch you here. I want to talk to you."

Giana's expression turned rapturous.

Enzo internally winced.

"About the mural ," Will added, with emphasis.

"Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" Enzo asked his mother.

"Well . . ." She trailed off.

"Go meet Joy. Let me take care of this," Enzo said.

She smiled and gave him a nod. "Alright. Enjoy yourselves. A lot ."

Even after she disappeared out of the front door, Will didn't sit down. Just stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I was thinking," he said. "What if I gave you a general subject for the mural and you took it from there?"

I've got him.

But Enzo had a feeling if he got cocky again, he'd scare him away again. "That's not usually the way it works," he reminded him. "But I promise, I'm not going to paint something completely ridiculous on your building."

"I know," Will said.

Enzo gestured towards the seat across from him. "Come on, sit down. Let's talk about this." When Will continued to hesitate, he added, "I promise, I don't believe that if we sit together and share a conversation that we're gonna fall wildly in love and get married."

Will flushed but did finally sit down. "I didn't imagine you would," he said. "But Giana might."

"She might," Enzo agreed. It was best, he'd decided, to face this horrible awkwardness head-on. "I heard she was talking about me. But I . . .that's not me. She doesn't speak for me."

"I get it," Will said. "She just wants what's best for you."

"And who's being egotistical now?" Enzo teased. "'Cause how else could you be so sure you're what's best for me?"

Will's face went even redder, under his tan. "Uh, no, I just mean . . .you know what I meant."

"I did," Enzo agreed. But he'd liked making Will blush anyway. Liked flirting with him.

It was a hell of a lot more fun than Will angrily accusing him of vandalizing his building.

"We can . . .uh . . .pretend she didn't get involved," Will said. "I'd prefer that, in fact."

Enzo wanted to tell Will that Giana was more determined than that, but he'd discover the truth after a while, so there was no point in scaring him away now. Especially not when he'd come to Enzo, only a few hours after claiming that he couldn't paint his wall.

"So that was your best offer?" Enzo said. "You give me a subject and I give you a mural?"

Will shrugged awkwardly. "It's a good idea, though Kate was actually the one who suggested it."

"You got an idea?" Enzo found himself curious as to what subject Will wanted him to paint.

Curious. Nothing more.

"You could always paint the town story."

Enzo made a face.

"What? What's wrong with that?" Will asked, confused. "It's such a beautiful story. I love hearing it. Especially when Joy tells it."

"Of course you love it," Enzo complained.

There were many things he didn't like about Indigo Bay, but the story was one of the worst, ultimately so saccharine and fake sounding. Like that could really happen in real life. Nobody waited years and years for someone to come home, especially someone who was almost certainly dead. Those stories never had those picture-perfect happy endings, the way this one did.

"What's wrong with it?"

What was wrong with it? Everything , as far as Enzo was concerned. "It's like the worst version of a Hallmark holiday. It probably didn't even happen that way."

Will looked surprised. "You really don't like it. I think you're the only person I've met who feels that way. Even Luca enjoys it."

"Luca enjoys the business it brings," Enzo said. And yes, maybe that was a very prosaic way to see it, but that was his cousin through and through.

"I don't believe that's all," Will said slowly. "It's a story about hope, about never giving up. A beautiful love story. Don't tell me you don't believe in love?"

Enzo didn't not believe in love. "I just don't believe that real life works out that way."

"What about your cousin and Oliver?"

He waved a hand. "I guess sometimes it does. But for most of us? Not so much."

Will smiled. "That's a pretty depressing way to look at things. I like to see the opportunities, not the disappointments." He paused. "Don't you dare say of course you do. "

The laugh was startled right out of Enzo. "Unfair," he claimed. But it was very fair.

"Have you ever listened to Joy tell the story?"

Joy was not only the woman who ran the biggest B he only smiled. "True," he admitted. "You're not going to show me, are you?"

"Uh." Enzo hesitated, but Rocco nudged him.

"Listen, he married him," Rocco pointed out. "Oliver knows what he's really like. Better than either of us."

Oliver's smile deepened. "Also true." But he didn't ask again. Instead, he changed the subject. "What's this about you drinking three cappuccinos today?"

"Rocco gave me this last one," Enzo squawked.

"He just looked so lonely out here," Rocco pointed out, all innocence. "With his sketchbook and no coffee."

"Luca has three cappuccinos all the time," Enzo pointed out.

"And Luca shouldn't, because then he stays up way too late," Oliver said, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "You Morettis always believe you can handle your caffeine, but the truth is, you come from the womb pre-caffeinated, already."

This time both he and Rocco laughed, nodding in agreement.

"That's my way of saying you're cut off for the day," Oliver teased gently. "Now show me this picture of Luca."

Enzo hesitated again. But then Oliver plucked the sketchbook off the table before he could stop him. He flipped pages until he found what he was looking for.

For a second, he looked at the quick drawing Enzo had made of Luca, Enzo bracing for every reaction he could think of.

Then Oliver's face cracked into a wide smile, and then he was straight up cackling, head thrown back with the force of his laughter. "Oh, oh ," he gasped, "you're good ."

"Told you," Rocco said knowingly.

"Just don't let him see it," Oliver said, returning the sketchbook to his table.

"Yeah, it would piss him off," Enzo agreed, feeling a little pulse of shame for doing it, because he liked Luca. At least he did now.

"No, no," Oliver corrected gently, "he'd never let me hear the end of it. He'd love it that much."

"Really? He wouldn't be insulted?"

"Are you kidding?" Oliver shook his head. "You really don't know how proud he is of you, do you?"

That was not what Enzo had expected Oliver to say.

"Uh, no?"

"Are you kidding me?" Rocco chimed in. "He won't shut up about your latest mural. That galaxy one in Seattle? He talked about it nonstop, even to customers , for days."

"Oh. Oh ."

Oliver shot him a gentle smile. "He's a complicated guy," he admitted. "I tell him all the time that he should tell you , but you know your cousin. He's so contained."

"Not as much as he used to be, before you convinced him to be a real boy," Enzo joked.

It was funny, because back when that had actually happened, he'd been so pissed off. And now it was impossible to be angry about it, because Luca and Oliver made each other better.

It was the kind of relationship Enzo measured his own by, and when every single one had come up short, he'd begun to think that maybe the kind of white-picket-fence forever love that his cousin and Oliver shared wasn't for him. He'd meant what he told Will earlier; maybe real life was full of disappointing love. And it had been easier, too, to give up on relationships because sometimes it felt like he spent every month in a different city.

"Yeah, I was really surprised when I came here," Rocco agreed. "I only knew him, a few years back, when he lived in Napa. And then I showed up a month or so back and imagine my shock when he was laughing and joking and teasing ."

"The miracle of love," Oliver said mysteriously. He turned to Enzo. "I've got bread rising. But you're good out here, minus the cappuccinos?"

"Can I just hang out here? Do you mind?"

He realized that maybe Oliver wouldn't want him spending his morning—and maybe even his afternoon—taking one of his handful of tables.

"No, no," Oliver waved. "Feel free to stay. You're always welcome here, you know? Besides . . ." He shot him a knowing grin. "It's a small town, isn't it? Not a whole lot of choices."

Ilaria was always telling him, whenever his feelings about Indigo Bay had come up, that he needed to remember that he'd changed. You, more than anyone else, need to remember that, she'd added. 'Cause it's like you go back there and the minute you cross the town line, you forget, too.

"Definitely smaller than I'm used to, now," he admitted.

"I bet, and God knows, when I first came home, it was an adjustment," Oliver said, and Enzo believed that he really understood. "Come on," he said to Rocco, "let's work on some of your pastry skills and leave your cousin to his artistic endeavors."