“Yeah?” Enzo tucked his free hand around Will’s waist, pulled him in close.
“Yeah,” Will agreed. “Can’t let you have all this mural fun by yourself, anymore. Besides . . .I’m getting too used to sleeping beside you to stop now.”
Enzo smiled, sweet and devastatingly sexy, both at the same time. “Even with how my hair looks in the morning?”
“Especially with how your hair looks in the morning.” Will meant it, too. Every time he woke up and looked over, Enzo’s dark curls spread out across the pillow, he felt an unexpected surge of joy and peace.
“I guess you’re stuck with me, then,” Enzo said, grinning, and yeah, he sure was, and there was no denying how happy he was about it.
Will leaned in farther. “Yeah, I guess I am. You know what? Thanks for saying something. Sometimes I get . . .I get too possessive of this business. Too worried about it.”
“Well, it’s yours,” Enzo said matter-of-factly, like he understood. And maybe, more than anyone else, he would. “You worked for it and planned for it and made it happen. Just you. I don’t blame you for not wanting to let it go. Even to someone as capable as Kate.”
He’d thought he’d have to explain all that and hope that Enzo might understand, but he hadn’t needed to, at all.
“Told you, I get it,” Enzo continued. He pressed a kiss to Will’s shoulder. He picked up the Gatorade. “I gotta get back to work. Sadly this mural isn’t gonna paint itself.”
“Alright. Me too. I gotta bake some cheesecake.”
“Don’t stop overachieving, yeah?” Enzo teased.
“I won’t.”
Enzo gave him one last brief kiss, and then he was gone.
Will finished his chicken salad at a bit more of a leisurely pace, checking his phone for email. He was just about to put it away when it rang.
Before, every time he’d looked at the screen and seen it was his mom, he’d dreaded answering. But he did feel like before they’d left, he and his parents had finally gotten to a better place.
“Hey, Mom,” he said, setting his phone on the desk, flipping it on speaker. “Great timing. You caught me grabbing a quick lunch.”
“Oh, honey, you work too hard. It’s almost two in the afternoon.”
“Yeah, and these Fourth of July specials don’t make themselves,” he said. “How’s it going on Tybee?”
“I just called to tell you, actually.” Carla hesitated and Will tensed, suddenly worried what that might mean. What was she going to ask him for now? But instead of asking for anything, she continued, “It’s actually going well. Brewer’s really stepped up.”
“Brewer lives to step up,” Will pointed out, but he meant it well. Brewer was great at everything he’d ever set his mind to, so it didn’t really surprise him that he’d figure out how to be great at the nitty-gritty realities of opening a store, too.
“He does, but I was afraid this was too much for him. He was . . .well, things were a bit chaotic,” Carla said diplomatically. Will didn’t miss how she’d said that things were a bit chaotic, not Brewer himself.
Will didn’t think Brewer had been chaotic a day in his entire freaking life.
“But they’re not now?”
“Oh, there was a guy he hired to work at the store, who ended up teaching him a lot of things. I was impressed. And Brewer was very impressed.”
“He must be something, if even Brewer was impressed. And if Brewer managed to listen to him.”
“Brewer isn’t that difficult.”
“Mom,” Will chided.
“Okay, he can be. Only because he doesn’t usually get his hands dirty.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, I just wanted you to know that I’m glad you didn’t come. You have Cherry’s—and Enzo—and it’s right. You should focus on those, right now.”