Page 15 of Momcom Vacation

Chapter 9

Enzo

The caretaker’s house is crammed far too full for my liking. I don’t mind the chaos, but it’s so loud in here that I can’t hear myself think. The kids are in constant motion, and the half dozen tablets and myriad of toys haven’t shut up. Then there’s baby Willow, who decided to serenade us at two a.m.

A run on the beach seems like the best way to get out and get my shit together. But Beckett has forbidden us from leaving the house. Apparently if Liv finds out we’re here, she’ll lose it on him. Not that I blame her. I am 100 percent team Liv on this one.

Beckett has officially gone too far. Billionaires get away with a lot, but stalking his wife while she’s heavily pregnant with twins and unwinding on a girls’ trip is a bridge too far for me.

I was thrilled when Delia told me about their plans. Sure, I’d rather take her away for a weekend myself, but her friends are important to her and have been around a lot longer than I have. If this is what she needs, then I support it.

But I need a minute to myself. So at four thirty, I creep out for a run. I head in the opposite direction of the main house to ensure the girls don’t see me.

This place is breathtaking. Beautiful white sand and deep blue ocean as far as I can see. Warm but with that incredible ocean breeze.

I’m feeling a thousand times better when I get back to the house.

My stomach sinks, though, when I catch sight of a big form at the door. Shit. I’ve been caught. Before I can dart around the house to remain unseen, the figure turns, and when his eyes land on me, they go wide.

“Rowan?”

My initial assumption that he’s out here to get in a workout too—the guy is a pro athlete, after all—is belied by the guilt written all over his face.

And the flip-flops. He wasn’t out for a run in those. And now that I think about it, he’s dressed in the same clothes he wore yesterday. And is that sand caked in his hair?

“You didn’t.”

He shrugs. “I’m missing games for this, man. The least I deserve is a little time with my wife. If she’s close, I’m not sleeping alone.”

“Did anyone see you?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I snuck in after everyone was asleep.”

I am both horrified by his audacity and a little impressed. Why didn’t I think to sneak in to see Delia?

Because she deserves a break. She needs to unwind.

My cock protests. He’s been benched recently, but it’s for the best. I’d rather have a happy, healthy Delia than get laid.

She’s been pushing herself so hard. We both have. I’m busier than ever. Now that I’ve developed friendships with Beckett Langfield and Cortney Miller, I’ve found myself turning down major projects left and right. We’re working on the Revs training facility now, along with the art museum renovation. If that isn’tenough, the new wing of the children’s hospital is breaking ground in March.

Not to mention my three friends expect me to personally oversee their own brownstone renovations, and Langfield’s got it into his head that I’m his personal handyman.

I have been neglecting Delia. I know it.

Fuck. It is such an Enzo DiLuca thing to do—fall madly in love with the most perfect woman on earth and then become so distracted by work that I ruin it. She deserves so much more than I have been giving. Now, she’s just down the beach, and I can’t see her, hold her, talk to her.

“You okay?” Rowan asks, his brows lowering. “You seem grumpier than usual.”

Rather than respond, I shoulder past him. The instant I step inside, I’m engulfed in the sounds of chatter. The kids are up.

A pale streak snags my attention. Oh shit.

Beckett is up too.

And he’s running.

“What the duck?” Rowan yells from behind me.

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