Better latte than never, p.14
Better Latte Than Never, page 14
She made a face. “It sounds like a lot of work.”
He shrugged. “I guess so. But it’s totally worth it. Sometimes I think about how many people have read my words, and it’s honestly quite frightening.” Because when he bared that much of his soul and knew that not everyone understood that, or what he meant, or the cry he was putting out into the universe...it reminded him of how alone he was.
Enzo opened the car door and helped his aunt get into the front seat. “I still have one working arm,” she protested when he buckled her in.
“Let’s keep it that way.” Enzo closed the passenger door and got in the back next to Lydia.
“Seatbelts on, everyone.” Finn looked in the rearview mirror, unable to read the expression on Enzo’s face. He took a breath and then pulled into traffic.
ENZO GOT OUT OF THE car when Finn stopped at his aunt’s house. He leaned down near the driver’s window. “Go on home. I want to make sure they get settled in okay.”
Finn frowned, his forehead pinched with worry. Enzo wanted to reach out and smooth those wrinkles away. “All right. See you at the cafe?”
“Yeah.” Enzo stepped back on the sidewalk and waved as Finn pulled back into traffic. He swallowed and stuck his hands in his pockets. He’d be spending a lot more time at the cafe, at least until his aunt healed.
With a sigh, he turned and followed Lydia inside their house. She and Aunt Rosa lived in the bottom apartment and rented out the one above. Inside, he walked into a place that hadn’t changed since he was a child. The couches were still covered with plastic, to keep them from getting ruined. Along one wall hung pictures of all of his cousins, which gave it a sort of mini gallery feel.
“Sit down, Mama.”
“I hurt my wrist, not my legs,” Aunt Rosa muttered, but she sat at Lydia’s direction.
That lump of guilt rose in his throat again. He hadn’t been there and look what happened. He should have been there. Family came first.
Lydia switched on the TV. “I’ll start dinner. You rest.”
Enzo followed her into the kitchen. He stayed silent while she fetched a large pot from a cabinet and then started filling it with water. When she placed it on the stove and turned on the burner, only then did he blurt out, “I’m sorry. I should have been there.”
Lydia rolled her eyes so hard it looked like it hurt. “Is this what Mom was yelling at you about before?”
He leaned his hip against the familiar Formica counter. “Maybe.”
She held out her hand and counted on her fingers. “First of all, I don’t think you would have even been on shift when it happened. Finn’s been coming in earlier trying to finish his book.”
“Yeah. He’s got a deadline.” Enzo cleared his throat. Finn should have been finishing his novel, not stepping up because Enzo hadn’t been there.
“How did you interview go, anyway?” Lydia turned to shake salt into the pot of water.
His interview. Had that been only this morning or a thousand years ago? Enzo ran his hand through his hair trying to recapture the feel of it—being in the city surrounded by other artists. Why had he been happy only a few hours ago?
“It was good.” Enzo stepped over to reach for the spaghetti on the high shelf to stop Lydia from hopping on her toes to get it.
“Going to take the job?” She didn’t look at him when she asked. Instead, she concentrated on snapping the spaghetti in half and placing it in a bowl.
“I might not even get it,” he protested. Enzo didn’t know how to explain that he couldn’t even hope for it, because he still wasn’t sure that he wanted it. And now that Aunt Rosa was injured they were going to need him more than ever at the cafe. “I’m not sure, you know?”
“Listen.” She turned around and waved a wooden spoon at him. She’d never reminded him of his aunt more than at this moment. “Don’t let us stop you from going for a new opportunity. Mom and I will be fine. I’m going to take over this business someday. I need to learn how to run it.”
But she was still so young. When Enzo had started at the cafe, she’d been in pigtails, hiding behind the counter and doling out change while standing on a stepstool to reach. She’d grown up when he wasn’t looking. “I’ll try to remember that.” He reached out to muss her hair, and Lydia ducked out of his touch, laughing.
“Okay. Now don’t tell mom, but I’m going to microwave this gravy and meatballs instead of running it under water to defrost it.”
“Oh, you’re in so much trouble,” he teased.
Later that night he lay in bed, after shooting off a text to Finn that everyone got home safely. The spaghetti and meatballs sat heavily in his belly. All of it swirled around in his mind. His aunt. The cafe. Finn. The job. Nat leaving. The uncertainty of it all made him sweat. He might have to make a choice; he might not. There was no use worrying about it now.
Enzo rolled onto his side, wishing he could stop time, for a moment. Keep Nat right where she was while he figured things out. But that wasn’t fair to her. And then there was Finn. He’d been a hero today, stepping in where Enzo couldn’t. But...did Enzo want that? For Finn to keep running to his rescue? Especially when Finn had told him he feared being used?
He didn’t know what he wanted. That was the damn problem.
Chapter 18
Enzo started by laying down color, some white and gray, the light colors first, before layering in darker shades. He dipped his brush in his palette, a furious mix of paints of various hues. His strokes were firm and thick; Enzo wanted the texture to show up. Still, no matter what he did, he couldn’t quite capture the pure blue of Finn’s eyes.
He stepped back, grabbed his rag and wiped his hand, staring at his work. He’d put the other painting of Finn aside to work on this one, a close-up of Finn’s face. Each angular curve of his jaw was exaggerated, along with the crook to his nose, and the lines on either side of his eyes. The gray in his temples Enzo had rendered as silver, nearly sparkling next to the other colors.
No lips, not yet. Enzo hadn’t decided on the expression. A smile? A frown? Those lips pressed together in anger? The eyes would tell him. Once he got them right, then the rest would follow.
A knock on his bedroom door caused him to jump. Enzo checked his watch, but no, it was still a little early for Nat to be home. Yet, somehow, she was.
“Hey.” She leaned against the doorway. Really, there wasn’t much room left in his bedroom for her to actually come inside. Enzo had his art supplies everywhere, with canvases propped against the walls, and paint tubes lying next to used palettes for half-finished projects. Since he had started going in to work earlier to help out his aunt, he’d been painting in fits and starts, but not the longer hours he usually spent in the mornings before work.
“Hey. Aren’t you working?”
“I took some time off.”
“Getting ready for the move?” He swallowed. While his room got more chaotic, the rest of the house had emptied, all of Nat’s treasures packed away and put into storage.
Nat slugged him on the arm. “No, dummy. We’re going out tonight. You, me, Gina, and the gang. There’s a booth at Poppy’s with our name on it.”
Poppy’s was a popular club in the center of town. There was a time when Enzo, Nat and their friends would spend every Friday there. He grinned. How many times had they done this? Skipped out for a night of dancing, drinking, and maybe hooking up, sometimes in that back alley between the club and the parking lot. He blushed thinking about it.
“But it’s Tuesday.”
“Which means we won’t have to fight for drinks. Plus, you’re off tomorrow.”
It took him a second, but he eventually figured it out. “You planned this.”
She rolled her eyes. “Obviously. I wasn’t going to leave without one last hurrah with my best friend. And you need the break.”
“I’m fine,” he protested.
“Tell me the truth. You were planning on going into the cafe on your day off anyway.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him the stink eye.
Enzo sighed. He hated leaving Lydia to cover his evening shifts. She’d modified the schedule so that one of the twins also worked with her, but still. She might be set on taking over the business someday, but she was really just a kid.
The thought made him feel old, every inch of his thirty years. Finn might tease him about being so much younger, but Enzo didn’t feel young right now. Weight settled on his shoulders that he couldn’t shrug off.
He hadn’t talked to Finn at all today. Maybe Finn would want to come? Enzo couldn’t picture Finn hanging out with his friends. He didn’t match. Enzo tried to imagine him in clubbing clothes and couldn’t get beyond khakis and a polo shirt. He never minded Finn’s style, but he realized how much that would make Finn stand out once they were at the bar.
“All right,” he told her, already pulling out his phone. “What time are we leaving?”
“About an hour? Give me time to shower and get pretty.”
“That’s going to take longer than an hour.”
Nat raised her finger in a very pointed gesture before closing the door behind her. Enzo barked out a laugh and tapped out a quick text to Finn before diving into his closet.
“Going to a club with some friends tonight. Wanna join?”
He was pulling out his favorite pair of black jeans when his phone started to vibrate with an incoming call instead of a text back. Huh. Hopefully everything was all right. Tension creeped in his spine and for a moment he feared something had gone wrong at the cafe. “Hey? Everything okay?”
“What? Oh yeah, everything’s fine. I saw your text.” Finn cleared his throat.
“Yeah, we’re going to Poppy’s in about an hour.” Enzo tucked the phone under his chin and started to sort through his closet. Everything was packed tight because he used half of the space to store painting supplies. He was sure he still had the mesh glitter top. Somewhere.
“And that’s a dance club?”
“Yup.” Enzo pulled out the crumpled up silver mesh shirt and thought better of it. He wasn’t trying to pick up anyone tonight. Anyone other than Finn, and he was pretty much a sure thing.
“I think I’m going to pass,” Finn said slowly, and then sped up, as if he expected Enzo to interrupt him. “It’s not really my scene. Even when I was your age I really didn’t do the crowded bar thing. And I have a lot to get done on the book, and I think I finally cracked a huge plot point...”
“Finn, it’s okay.” Enzo finally got a word in. “You’re allowed to not want to do something.”
Silence on the other end of the line. Maybe no one had ever said that to Finn before? Enzo stopped rummaging through his closet to consider how sad that was. “Finn?”
“Yeah, I’m still here. I’m really deep in this book. I’m so close to finishing.”
“When you finish, I’ll show up at your place with a bottle of champagne and my silver mesh shirt,” Enzo promised.
Finn chuckled. “Well, I’m going to have to get this sucker done then.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Not only the showing up for sexy times. Enzo had always enjoyed Morgan Heart’s writing, and now, seeing how the magic was done from this side of the curtain made him more curious than ever about Finn’s book.
“Maybe another time. I’d like to meet your friends.”
Enzo didn’t know who Nat had invited. Maybe Fletch and Jen. They weren’t close friends, they were party friends, and he wasn’t entirely sure what they’d make of Finn. Finn had already met everyone important to Enzo. He swayed a little when he realized that. Finn had met his family first of course, the moment he’d stepped into Aunt Rosa’s Cafe. That put them one step closer to a relationship.
That they clearly weren’t in. Finn would have said something. He was a writer. He liked words. “Sure. Go finish that book.”
“Will do.” Finn hung up, and Enzo looked at his phone, a strange feeling in his belly, like he should have said more.
Nat knocked on his door again. “Do you need eyeliner?”
Enzo shook off the oddness. “Definitely.”
He followed her into the bathroom where she got out her makeup kit and made him sit on the toilet seat. Enzo held very still, hoping his eyes wouldn’t water. It had been a long time since he’d done something like this. Either he’d been too busy, or Nat had been too tired from work, and then she had her girlfriend, and Enzo had had Finn.
For almost three months now, he’d had Finn. Strange that it seemed longer.
“What’s on your mind? You look like you’re thinking heavy thoughts, and that is not the right mindset for a party.” Nat stepped back and regarded her work.
“Ah, I invited Finn, but he turned me down.”
“Maybe he needed some space. You two have been attached at the hip for a while.” She leaned in and rubbed her thumb along his eyelid.
Was that it? Was Finn sick of him? “He said he had to work on his book. And that he wasn’t into the club scene.”
She reached into her makeup bag and pulled out a tube of something glittery. “Yeah, when I think writer, I don’t exactly think someone who likes to party.”
“That’s awfully stereotypical of you.” Enzo closed his eyes at her direction again.
“There, perfect.”
He stood and looked at himself in the mirror. On the other side stood Enzo the carefree guy who loved to dance, and drink, and have a good time. He pulled out his phone, snapped a quick selfie and sent it to Finn with the caption, “See what you’re missing.”
They were on their way to the club when he finally got a reply. “You should have showed me that earlier.”
Enzo laughed and resolved to send Finn every selfie he could.
WAS THE MUSIC ALWAYS this loud? It took Enzo by surprise when they walked in, but once the tunes turned to the familiar and he got a few drinks in him, Enzo didn’t care. The beat of the bass filled him up, until his heart synced with the deep rhythm and he pulled Nat out on the dance floor.
They’d been joined by more friends, and Nat had run into some people she knew at the bar, until their little group had swelled to at least ten people. Enzo didn’t know half of their names, but here on the floor, grinding up against Nat as she laughed, he didn’t care.
For a moment, it was perfect. He loved this song, and he loved swinging Nat around, the press of bodies against him generating so much heat and energy. The thrum of it filled him, inspired him, made him see nothing but glitter and light.
And then he made eye contact with another dude on the dance floor. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Tight jeans. Enzo didn’t know him, but he recognized the look in those dark eyes, a glint of interest. The guy joined their dance circle, tried to grind up against Enzo, and for the very first time, Enzo was not interested. He stepped away and shook his head, slipping out of the crowd and back to the bar.
He waved a twenty at the bartender, and for a brief moment, was tempted to get some shots and get shitfaced. But instead, “Seltzer, please” came out of his mouth. If he got drunk now, he’d regret it tomorrow, and Enzo had too many things on his agenda for that.
Despite the crush of bodies, he managed to pull out his phone, seeing an unread text from Finn. He missed Finn suddenly, but he didn’t want Finn here, at the club. He wanted that quiet walk downtown past the bookshop, that awkward kiss in the storage room, the brisk morning in Finn’s bedroom with the breeze from the water below wafting in.
Enzo took his phone outside and sat on the curb. He’d sent Finn a picture of his last drink, a purple concoction made with dry ice so tendrils of smoke hovered around it. Finn had responded, “I hope that tastes as good as it looks.”
He smiled and his fingers flew across the tiny keyboard. “I think my lattes are better than this, honestly.”
“I’ll never turn down one of your lattes,” Finn responded almost immediately. “Having fun?”
Enzo stared at the phone and didn’t quite know how to answer.
ALL DAY LONG THE WORDS had come slowly, but steadily. It felt like pulling teeth, each sentence clawed out of him like a beast trying to get out. After every paragraph, Finn needed to take a circuit of his living room. He hadn’t bothered to go into the cafe today, not on Enzo’s day off. Besides, he needed to learn to write at home.
But he eschewed the office that had so stymied his creativity. Finn spread out on his couch, his laptop on, well, his lap. He had to hunch over to do it, but he managed. The trick worked, for the most part. Or maybe that he was so close to finishing, his body knew he had to power through.
Finn knew the hard work would come later with the countless revisions he’d have to do before this could be publishable. But he’d proven to both Angie and his publisher that he could deliver, that his past writer’s block was only a fluke, and the old Morgan Heart was back.
And that’s where he was stuck. Finn had gotten to the car accident scene that would put one of the twins in a coma and kill the other, Leon’s true love. It had never hurt so much to kill off a character before. Of course, he had to play up the tension, and let the readers wonder which twin had died until the denouement.
Finn closed the laptop and stretched. He’d head to bed and start again early tomorrow morning when he was fresh. It would give the scene time to sort itself out in his subconscious mind–or that was what he told himself.
He’d gotten into his pajamas and was brushing his teeth when his phone buzzed. Enzo had finally replied to his text from earlier. Finn rinsed, snatched up the phone and tapped a reply.
“Are you having fun?” he asked.
Finn took the phone to bed, watching the three little dots that showed Enzo was typing.
“I think I’d be having more fun if you were here.”
Finn smiled at that. He settled against his pillow and responded, “Trust me nobody wants to see me cut a rug with my dad bod.”
More dots, then, “You don’t have a dad bod. A daddy bod, maybe.”
