Page 104 of Cherry on Top

“It doesn’t. Thought it might, but no.” Enzo sat up. “We need to formulate a plan. And to do that, I need pizza. After I call Leonardo’s, I’m gonna text Luca and tell him again that he needs to open a late night pizza place.”

“You want your cousin to start another business?”

“Well, he didn’t get to open his gelateria,” Enzo joked. “Because someone else opened up an ice cream parlor.”

“Too bad for him,” Will said, with mock seriousness.

“But not for me. Turns out that guy’s hot and sweet and I’m absolutely wild about him,” Enzo said. Pressed a kiss to the corner of Will’s mouth and slid off the bed.

He approached his phone like it was a poisonous snake about to strike.

“Well?” Will asked after a moment. “Did she text you?”

Enzo glanced over at him, making a face. “She called twice and sent several text messages. Most of which consist of I can’t believe you didn’t tell me and Please let me plan the wedding and I bet Will’s parents are so sweet, just like him. And a lot of exclamation points. A lot of exclamation points.”

“She does love her exclamation points.”

“Don’t say because she’s a Moretti,” Enzo said grumpily. “I’ll admit we can be overdramatic but I know how to practice restrained punctuation usage.”

Will laughed; couldn’t keep the sound in. “Actually, I was gonna say it’s just a Giana thing. Can you imagine Luca using too many exclamation points?”

“No,” Enzo said morosely. “Never. Not even in relation to Oliver.”

“There you go. When it comes to punctuation, you’re the best of the Morettis,” Will teased.

Enzo shot him a look that promised retribution for that remark later—the fun kind of retribution, too. But instead of replying, he dialed Leonardo’s and put in an order for two large pizzas. One a pepperoni and pineapple. The other a supreme with everything on it.

“Don’t tell me you, a good Italian boy, like pineapple on your pizza,” Will said after he hung up, Enzo still bent over his phone as he no doubt did as he’d promised and texted Luca about opening a pizza place of his own.

Enzo glanced up. “Guilty as charged. But actually it’s a Moretti thing. Most of us like it, actually. We just won’t publicly admit to it.”

“See?” Will stood and wrapped his arms around Enzo, pressing a kiss against his cheek. “You are a good Moretti.”

“Pineapple and all,” Enzo said, but he was smiling, no trace of that shadow lingering in his eyes. “Pizza will be here in thirty.” He waggled his eyebrows, gaze falling on the towel still wrapped around Will’s waist. “What should we do until then?”

“I’m gonna get dressed,” Will said, with mock sternness. “And you should too.”

“Ugh, no fun.”

“You love me,” Will said. Then flushed, because Enzo did.

“Yeah.” Enzo leaned over and kissed him once, firmly. “I sure do.”

Thirty minutes later, they were both clothed and on the couch, munching on Leonardo’s mediocre pizza. “Maybe Luca could just buy him out,” Enzo said.

They had done a lot of chatting since hitting the couch, but almost none of it had been about what they were going to do tomorrow. Will knew they needed to, but it felt so good to just sit here like this, talking about nothing important at all.

He could imagine them doing this in six months and in six years, and he wanted it so strongly his heart ached with the desire.

“And what? Change everything?” Will snagged another piece and took a big bite. “It’s not bad. It’s just not good, either.”

Enzo leaned over, head drooping down onto Will’s shoulder, snuggling him into him in what felt like a perfect fit. “I have it on good authority,” he said in a hushed whisper, “that they use frozen pizza dough.”

“I’m surprised Luca hasn’t marched in there already and demanded changes, ownership or no,” Will joked.

“Oh, he’s thought about it. You know exactly what’s stopped him.”

“Probably who,” Will said. “Oliver.”

---