Page 93 of Cherry on Top

Ugh. Enzo. He would be in here in a few minutes and they’d grab a late lunch together. That was the plan anyway.

But the last thing he wanted to spring on his brand-new boyfriend was his parents being here, unexpectedly. And not just to check out Cherry’s, but to persuade him to come with them.

Enzo wasn’t going to want to be around for that conversation.

“Who’s Enzo?” Carla asked.

“Uh . . .” Will trailed off, shooting Kate a Please help, please please please help look. “He’s painting the mural on the side of the building. Did you notice him when you came in?”

“Oh, we approached from the other side,” Patrick said. “We’ll have to check that out, when we leave.”

Oh God, please don’t.

“Can you . . .” Will motioned Kate closer. “Can you uh . . .go intercept him? Tell him I’m sorry but something came up and he’d be better off grabbing lunch on his own? And I’ll take my parents to Oliver’s for a sandwich?”

Kate nodded, but there were a hundred questions, barely restrained, in her gray eyes, as she turned and walked out the front door.

“When she’s back, we’ll go grab a sandwich at the local bakery,” Will announced. “And we can . . .uh . . .discuss this further.”

His mother’s expression brightened, like she thought the discussion would entail something other than Will saying no, over and over again.

“I knew you’d see sense, son,” Patrick said, patting him on the shoulder again. Will flinched. Not for the first time he wished he’d already moved to Enzo’s apartment, which had a rudimentary kitchen. It wouldn’t be much, but he could take them there for lunch and avoid a public scene.

Not that his parents ever made a scene. But he had a feeling that if he kept firm, it wasn’t going to be particularly pretty.

Of course, if he did take them to Enzo’s, he’d have to explain exactly who Enzo Moretti was to him. Like he wasn’t just the guy painting the side of his building.

Enzo was just about down from the scaffolding, glancing up as he took in his work from the morning, pleased with the way the ship was coming together, when he spotted Kate approaching.

“Hey,” he said, picking up a water bottle and draining the last of it. He was supposed to meet Will for a late lunch before he headed to Charleston to pick up a few things that would hopefully make Will’s move later that night a little easier.

Another dresser was going to be necessary. More hangers. Something in the kitchen besides one pan and one sad half-melted plastic spatula.

“Will’s parents are here,” Kate said under her breath as she walked closer. “And he is freaking out.”

Enzo’s eyebrows went right up, nearly to his hairline. “What?”

“He told me to come out here and tell you to stay away but . . .he needs you, Enzo. He’s going to fold, and he doesn’t want to.”

“He told you to tell me not to show up for lunch?” Enzo was a little baffled by this. “Does he not want me to meet his parents?”

Kate shot him a frank look. “He’s not thinking clearly. But I think he’s trying to save you from getting dragged into this mess.”

“Maybe it’s a mess, but isn’t that what a partner’s supposed to be around for? Making things a hell of a lot easier? Not only does he have a business here, he has a boyfriend. He said he wanted roots; he’s got them now,” Enzo said.

“You gonna go charging in there like a white knight and save him?” Kate sounded full of disbelief, which was totally unfair.

Enzo could do the right thing. He did the right thing all the freaking time.

“Yes,” Enzo said firmly.

Kate smiled then, all that disbelief melting into approval. “Knew you would,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re a good guy, Enzo.”

“Did you really do all that to convince me to do the right thing?” Enzo complained. He took off his bandana and ran his hand through his curls, damp with sweat. This was not how he’d hoped to meet Will’s parents—not that he’d really spent a whole lot of brain power on that eventuality—but he also understood there wasn’t time to waste.

Kate looked annoyingly smug. “Worked, didn’t it?”

“It was going to work anyway,” Enzo grumbled. He shoved his bandana into the pocket of his paint-stained shorts. “Come on, let’s go deal with this.”

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