“We can’t stay here forever. Your parents know about us. I can’t imagine they approve.”
He pressed his brow to mine. “Believe it or not, I am capable of making my own decisions.”
I had my doubts any of the Marchionni boys strayed far from their parents’ wishes, but I didn’t want to argue. Instead, I went for a safer subject. “I’m going to need to do some shopping. Everything I own in this world fits into a suitcase and a carry-on.”
“Starting over from the ground up will require more than a trip to Target.”
I winced. “I know, but it will take me years to replace everything.”
“I’ll replace your things.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. You’ve done too much for me already. I don’t like handouts.” I pulled away and put the dinner plates away.
“It’s not a handout. I care about you. It’s what…friends do.”
I’d really started to hate that word. “It’s too much. Friends don’t buy each other furniture.”
“Stop getting hung up on the money. Would you buy Maggie groceries if she was hungry?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts.” He squared his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. “The cost of her food might be what? Five? Ten percent of your weekly income?”
“Something like that.”
Enzo shrugged. “The cost of your furniture, clothing, and other items is roughly the same for me.”
My mouth fell open. How can I argue with that?
“There’s nothing wrong with accepting help.”
“Fine, but I insist you save every receipt. I’m going to pay you back.”
He grinned and pulled me against his chest. “There are other ways to settle debts. Let’s go upstairs.”
“Did you just call me a prostitute?” I jammed my finger into his ribs.
He jumped back like I’d zapped him with a live-wire. “Hey, none of that.”
“None of what?” I wiggled my fingers. “Are you ticklish? Lorenzo Marchionni, did I find your weakness?”
“You are my weakness.” Enzo ducked low, set his shoulder in my belly, and tossed me over his shoulder.