Page 22 of Cherry on Top

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&B in town, the Sweetheart Inn, but she was also Oliver’s mom, and a romance novelist of some renown. Enzo knew her first book had been a retelling of the story. He’d grown up hearing her tell it, every single time under duress.

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