Page 113 of Cherry on Top

“No. Not entirely, anyway.” Enzo pressed a kiss to Will’s damp cheek. “But thank you for believing the best of me.”

“Of course.”

Enzo leaned in, and there was that butterfly-fluttering, blood-moving-hot-and-slow, feeling again. But this time he tipped his head closer and was angling for more than just a peck when the sound of someone knocking on the front door echoed through the bathroom.

“Who’s that?” Will wondered.

“No clue,” Enzo said. “It better not be my mother. I made her promise she would leave us alone. Apparently she’s in a bit of honeymoon phase of her own. You’d think she’d have a lot more respect for ours.”

“You’d think,” Will said dryly.

Reluctantly, Enzo jumped down off the counter, forgoing what had been shaping up to be a very promising makeout session, and maybe even more, considering that all he’d have to do to strip Will bare was tug on a corner of his towel.

“I’ll get dressed,” Will said as the knock echoed again.

Enzo walked to the front door, thinking that he was going to have to have a peephole put in, so he could decide if he actually wanted to talk to the person on the other side. It had never been an issue before; but now that Will was living here and Enzo was going to be around a lot more . . .well, he was going to do whatever he could to protect their hard-won privacy.

Maybe if this worked out for the next year or so, they could buy a house together. Away from his mother. On the other side of town, preferably.

But when Enzo pulled the door open, it wasn’t Giana.

It was Oliver.

His tanned cheeks were ruddy and his eyes were narrowed, upset.

It took Enzo a moment to realize why.

“She told you, didn’t she?” he asked, pulling the door open wider.

“You look pretty calm about it,” Oliver said, striding in, hands shoved in the pockets of his jean shorts, a frown marring his expression.

Enzo shrugged, following him into the living room.

The bedroom door stayed closed, and Enzo supposed he couldn’t blame Will for staying out of this mess. It was their mess to deal with—his and Oliver’s.

If he hadn’t already been involved, he’d have avoided it, too.

“I guess I am,” Enzo said, sitting down on the couch. But Oliver continued to pace. Clearly he was not calm about it.

“I couldn’t believe it, when she told me.”

“At least she told you,” Enzo pointed out dryly. “I found out because I saw them kissing.”

“What,” Oliver exclaimed.

“Yep.” Enzo nodded. “You definitely had the better revelation.”

His confession seemed to have taken the wind right out of Oliver’s sails. He dropped down onto the other side of the couch.

“I just don’t . . .” Oliver took a deep breath. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?” Enzo said as kindly as he could manage.

“She never, not before my dad, not with my dad, not . . .” Oliver took a deep breath.

Then Enzo realized what the issue was. Unlike Oliver, he’d never known his father. He’d likely been dead before Enzo was even born. But Oliver’s dad had been a presence in his life, for most of his life. He’d only died ten years ago, from a quick-moving cancer that had claimed him almost as soon as it had been discovered.

“Doesn’t mean this isn’t legit, that her feelings aren’t legit,” Enzo said gently. “You know that. Queerness isn’t a thing that always goes in a straight line. It doesn’t always make sense.”

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