Page 35 of Cherry on Top

Will nudged him again. “Not like for real,” he joked. “Unless there’s something you want to tell me.”

Um, yeah. You’re gorgeous and if things weren’t so weird with my mother and the fact I’ve got no intention of staying here, I’d totally date you. For real.

But their situation was weird and complicated, and he had every intention of seeing Indigo Bay in his rearview five or six weeks from now.

“It’s a thought,” he said. “Would it really make her leave us alone?”

Will shrugged. “She’s your mother. What do you think?”

“I think it would take more than just a declaration. We’d uh . . .have to prove it to her. Go on a few dates.”

“And?” Will grinned. “You’re not so bad, Enzo Moretti. Especially once you’ve cleaned off your face.”

“Ugh,” Enzo complained. Of course Will had noticed the dirt.

“I mean, it’s just a few evenings. We’re both going to be busy. You with the mural. Me with Cherry’s. Easy enough to pawn her off with that excuse, too.”

“True.” Enzo couldn’t believe he was considering this. But then, his mother was abominably persistent. “I can’t believe you suggested this.”

“I’ve spent the last two months trying to convince her I don’t want your phone number.” Will took a bite of focaccia and chewed, swallowing. “And that hasn’t worked, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Enzo echoed.

“So I thought, well, we could try something else,” Will said. “But if you’re not interested . . .”

Oh, I’m interested.

“I just think I’d like to try to convince her first, before we uh . . .do anything drastic.”

“Going on a fake date with me is drastic? You Morettis are overdramatic.” Will’s grin was so broad Enzo discovered he had dimples too. Honest to fucking God dimples.

“I want to believe she isn’t completely unreasonable.” It was hard to admit this. “That she can see the truth when I ask her to.” That she can see I’m not sticking around.

“I get it,” Will said sympathetically.

“Somehow, I actually think you do.” Maybe Will had a story too. After all, why was he here in Indigo Bay.

But instead of Will confiding about any of his own troubles, he said in a lighter tone, “Well, I’m not just here for the artichoke spread.”

“It’s damn good though,” Enzo agreed, dipping a crostini into the container and popping it into his mouth.

“I don’t suppose she’s ever given you the recipe?” Will asked hopefully.

“She probably has, but I’m not sure I ever bothered to keep it. I’m really not a cook. I’m a good eater. That’s all.”

Enzo told himself that Will’s shocked expression was fine. He was used to it, by now.

“But you’re—”

“A Moretti? I know,” Enzo said wryly. The cheese was curdling in his stomach, but he didn’t want Will to know so he took a long sip of water and then wrapped some prosciutto around another chunk of provolone.

“You know, you’re not required to be good at everything.” Will shot him a sweet look. “You’re already a nationally renowned mural artist, so famous you’re in constant demand. Would you really want to trade that to be able to cook like your mom and Luca?”

“No.” Though he’d asked himself that question enough back before he’d left Indigo Bay. He forced himself to smile. Reminded himself that before this moment, he’d actually been having a pretty good time—and that his Moretti deficiencies were not Will’s fault. “So, that’s what you’d get out of fake dating me? My mom’s artichoke spread recipe?”

“Enzo Moretti, did I damage your ego?” Will teased.

“That was actually my own mother. Over and over again,” Enzo grumbled.

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