Better latte than never, p.17
Better Latte Than Never, page 17
“Listen, I wasn’t going to do this.” Nat took out her phone. “It was actually Gina who found it. One of the podcasts she listens to. Last week, they interviewed Morgan Heart about his new book.”
Enzo perked up. Finn hadn’t mentioned it, and he hadn’t talked at all about his book. “Oh?”
Nat tapped her phone, and Enzo felt a familiar buzz in his pants pocket. “Listen to it before you make any decisions about Finn, okay?” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You will always be my best friend, no matter how far apart we are.”
“I know.” He hugged her again.
“Now I really need to hit the road. Whose idea was it to move on Fourth of July weekend?”
“Not mine.” He helped her carry the last of her things out to the U-Haul idling in front of their little duplex. Enzo stood on the sidewalk and waved until they were out of sight.
Only then did he hit play on the link she’d sent him.
FINN HAD GONE TO THE cafe as usual, even though he’d finished the book. He still got his giant coffee and the pastry special of the day before sitting in his corner and powering up his laptop. Angie hadn’t sent him any commentary yet. Finn couldn’t tell if that was a good or a bad sign. It had been a week, and he knew she’d wanted to dive into his manuscript as soon as possible.
He’d toyed with the idea of starting a new novel. In the past he’d be drafting one book, outlining another, all while working on line edits and promo for a third. Those had been the early days when audiences had a taste of Morgan Heart books and the desire for more more more had driven him into a supercharged workflow.
But this time, he wanted to enjoy having finished something—the satisfaction of having created something special. He hadn’t felt like that in a very long time. Not for the last five books, which he’d churned out year after year to meet the demand.
He’d needed this break. Finn’s brain needed to fill with words. However, he feared he wouldn’t be able to do it again. How many times could he hit gold?
He popped open his laptop and stared at his desktop background, a collage of his book covers that a fan had made. At first, he’d been honored by it. Then the sight of it had reminded him of what he could stand to lose if he didn’t keep writing. They’d forget about him, his fair-weather fans, and he’d drop out of the best seller lists forever.
Okay, so that was writer doom and gloom talking. Not the feeling he wanted when he’d just finished a book. Finn should be thrilled. Ecstatic! Over the moon with joy!
Yet how could he be? He sighed and closed the laptop again. Enzo hadn’t said anything about the job either way. He would have told Finn if he hadn't gotten it, right? Finn took a bite of his pastry, trying to focus on the flakey crust and the bright flavor of the fruit inside.
Then he took a long sip of coffee, savoring the taste before swallowing. He didn’t know where Rosa got her beans, but there was some kind of sorcery in her brew. Hey, that was an idea. A magical coffee shop run by a witch who put her spells in the coffee.
Finn opened his laptop again and started to take notes.
He didn’t get very far before the front door opened, and Enzo strode inside. Finn grinned, prepared to give the usual wave and nod before Enzo went up to the counter to get his afternoon started.
Instead, Enzo spotted him and headed for Finn’s corner. Something about the expression on his face sent the hackles on the back of Finn’s neck rising. That wasn’t a happy face; in fact it was quite dour, almost a frown.
Maybe he didn’t get the job? Finn shouldn’t feel hope at that. He’d known that their time together was ending. But maybe, oh maybe, he’d have Enzo for a little while longer.
“Can we talk?” Enzo said, looking down, his fingers playing with the strap of his messenger bag.
That didn’t sound good at all. “Um, sure, have a seat?” Finn closed his laptop again.
“I’d rather...” Enzo swallowed. “Can we take this to the back?”
Oh, fuck. Here it was. The bad news. Enzo was taking the job and leaving town. Finn should have known. “Yeah, let me pack up.” Finn didn’t want to leave his laptop out here, and if this conversation went the way he thought it would, he probably wouldn’t want to stay.
Enzo nodded and headed toward the back, waving to his aunt at the counter before gesturing to the hallway. She frowned, but only nodded in return.
Finn finished his pastry, but he hardly tasted it. He stowed his laptop and zipped up the bag. The coffee he took with him. He’d need the fortification.
He walked past the counter and shrugged at Lydia who gave him a curious look. Then Finn passed the public bathrooms until he got to the open door of the little storage room in the back. Enzo was inside, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Enzo?” Finn stopped in the doorway.
He had such good memories about this room, despite being locked inside. It was where they had their first kiss, and that felt like it had happened a million years ago.
“Finn.” Enzo straightened, dusting his hands off on his jeans. He looked...tired. That was the only word Finn could put to the expression on his face. Tired and defeated? “Nat moved out this morning.”
“Right, today was moving day.” Finn remembered now. He should have done something, been there for Enzo. But he’d been too caught up in himself and worrying about Angie’s opinion of the book. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”
Enzo shook his head. “That’s not what I was going to say. Before she left Nat linked me to this interview you did. Well. Not you. Morgan Heart.”
“You say that like he and I aren’t the same person,” Finn joked.
Enzo held his gaze. “I’m beginning to think you’re not.”
That didn’t make any sense at all. Finn took a long gulp of his coffee, trying to think. “Which interview?” He’d done dozens of interviews in the course of his career. He couldn’t imagine one that would have Enzo this upset.
“The podcast with the Book Chics.”
Except for that one. “I didn’t know that went live already.”
“Why? Were you hoping you’d be long gone by the time I heard it?” Enzo snapped.
“I’m not the one who’s leaving. You’re the one who’s moving to New York!”
“And you just made that assumption before hearing if I even got the job or not?”
“Did you?”
“That’s not the point!” Enzo punched his hand against the wall and winced. “You came here to our cafe. You wormed your way into our lives—my life!— and used us to write your novel.”
“I was open about the writer’s block and being inspired. I never lied about that. And it’s not fair to be mad at me about that when you’ve been painting me, too.”
Enzo pressed his lips together so hard they turned white. “A private painting that no one will ever see. And your next novel features an artist? That can’t be coincidence.”
It wasn’t. Finn didn’t know how to respond to that.
“Is he the one who dies? Or is it his love interest?”
“Stop mocking me.” Finn felt like he was caught in molasses, slow and stupid while Enzo was speeding past him.
“You don’t need me to mock you. You’ve been writing the same sad heterosexual love story for a decade. You’ve made millions of dollars! When are you going to write something that’s real?”
“It is real,” Finn protested. “Love doesn’t last. It either ends in death or heartbreak.” With Theo he’d expected it to end, he just hadn’t realized the whole relationship itself had been a sham. And Enzo was always meant for better things than Finn in his life.
Enzo jerked back like he’d been slapped. “You know, when you told me about your ex, I thought, here’s a guy dealing with a bad breakup. Sure he’s fucked up about relationships. I figured I’d give you space. And then I thought maybe I wasn’t good enough for you. What would a famous rich author see in me?”
Finn opened his mouth to tell Enzo he was wrong, that he was too good for Finn, that he was brilliant and amazing...but then Enzo continued.
“But you’re in denial about yourself, Finn. You’re playing the game by someone else’s rules. Because it is a game to you. Love. Writing.”
That wasn’t fair. “You haven’t lived my life. You don’t know me.”
“You’re right, I don’t.” Enzo gestured to the door. “I think it’s best you go.”
The “and don’t come back” was unspoken, but Finn got the message. He picked up his laptop bag and fled.
Chapter 22
“Am I going to have to kill him?” Lydia stood in the doorway of the storage room, her hands on her hips. She looked two seconds away from charging after Finn. The righteous fury on her face was marred by the smear of flour across one cheek.
Enzo couldn’t help but smile. It didn’t last long and he shook his head. To give himself time to think he went over to the little sink and started to wash his hands. This room held so many memories, to the point where he felt haunted by Finn’s presence. That shadow out of the corner of his eye could be Finn.
It should be Finn.
“Nobody is killing anybody.” Enzo wiped his hands on paper towels, taking his time, stalling before he had to go out to the cafe.
Because he’d have to look at that empty seat in the corner and remember that Finn was gone and not coming back. Finn had been using him, treating him like a Pinterest board for inspiration. Enzo had been nothing more than the thing that had broken his writer’s block. After all, Finn knew better than to ever be in a long-term relationship.
Morgan Heart always wrote sad, heartbreaking stories. It shouldn’t be any surprise that he’d torn Enzo’s heart in two.
“Tell that to my mom. I think she’s already sharpening the rolling pin.”
Enzo had to stop and think about that one for a moment. “You don’t sharpen...you know what, I don’t want to know. Come on, I need to relieve her for the day.”
Lydia stopped him with a hand on his chest. “What the hell happened?”
“It’s complicated,” he said. What he meant was I don’t want to talk about it.
He pushed past her and down the hall to the front of the cafe. When he emerged, there was something off about the energy in the room. Normally the ebb and flow of noise would vary. Sometimes it would be loud with chatter, other times quiet except for the clinking of mugs against the tables. Right now, he couldn’t explain it, but there was a hush, a low hum of something penetrating the room.
Oh God, how loud had he been? Could they have heard them out here?
When he got to the counter, it was even worse. His aunt stood with her arms crossed over her chest, the left one still wrapped in an ace bandage. On either side she was flanked with one of the twins, who looked ready to charge into battle.
Enzo sighed. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Enzo...” she started.
“It was a bad idea to date a customer in the first place.” Nat had been right about that, as she had been about so many things. But maybe not everything.
His aunt looked disappointed. Enzo didn’t need her going after Finn on his behalf. As much as he might like the idea of her chasing Finn with her rolling pin, he was actually an adult. An adult with a broken heart.
“He was nice to us.” Anabell looked a little shell-shocked.
“Look, sometimes things don’t work out between two people. It happens.” Enzo went to the espresso machine and started cleaning it out, even though it wasn’t time for that yet. If he didn’t do something he was going to run out of here screaming.
“Here.” Aunt Rosa touched his shoulder, pulling him away from the machine. “You don’t have to do that. Eat.” She handed him a luscious looking piece of cake—chocolate mousse with a dark chocolate ganache on top. They usually sold out of this cake pretty quickly whenever she made it.
Enzo sighed and took the cake. His mood dropped further when he remembered Nat wouldn’t be there when he got home tonight. He wouldn’t be able to grab ice cream out of the fridge and mope with her while watching bad reality TV.
He swallowed down a lump in his throat that had nothing to do with the cake.
Once the twins and his aunt left for the day, Lydia returned to the counter. She had her apron in her hand, a sign she too was getting ready to head out. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“You’re going to think it’s stupid.”
“Try me. Besides, I’m your cousin. I’m always on your side.”
“How much did you guys hear?”
“Not much, really. Loud voices, that’s all. And then Finn raced out of here like a dog with his tail between his legs.”
Enzo had to smile a bit at the image. He leaned against the counter and folded his hands. Lydia mirrored the pose beside him. “I listened to an interview he gave for a podcast. Well, not Finn. Morgan Heart.”
Lydia made a go-on motion with her hand.
“He started out talking about his book. How this cafe and the people in it were an inspiration.” Enzo gesture to the room. “Which, sure I get. But the main character is an artist.”
“Oh, Enzo.”
“And you know how all his books end right? Nobody’s happy. So not only am I a character in his novel with an unhappy ending, he finished the interview saying he’d never consider a long term relationship.”
“What an asshole.”
Enzo nodded in agreement. “Did he see me as just another character in a book about a boy who falls for a girl and one of them dies horribly?”
“You deserve more than that.”
Enzo gazed out over the nearly empty cafe, his eyes trying to avoid that vacant seat in the corner. “I kept thinking I wasn’t good enough for him.”
“Bullshit. He’s not good enough for you.” Lydia reached out and took hold of his arm, squeezing it gently. “You gonna be okay here tonight?”
“What? Yeah, Ben will be here in a few minutes, and we’ll be fine. Back to the normal routine, right? Pre-Finn?”
But Enzo knew nothing would be the same. His life had been divided into two pieces—before he met Finn and after when he knew what it felt like to fall in love and hope for more.
At nine, he sent Ben home for the night, turning the sign to “closed” and locking the front door. Before turning off the lights, Enzo had an idea, and went back to the storage room. He’d bought paint and supplies a while ago to cover the mural for his aunt. There never had seemed to be any time to actually get the work done.
Until now.
He didn’t have anyone to go home to. Enzo’s body thrummed with restless energy, emotions that needed to be sorted. As always, he needed to use paint to figure his shit out.
It wasn’t the same, covering this wall with large swaths of white primer, but the mindless work helped him think, to put everything to rights.
Back home, he had two paintings of Finn, neither of them complete. Maybe that was because he never really knew Finn. Enzo had his own version of Finn, the man he’d fallen in love with that rainy night in May. That Finn was funny, kind, and so delightfully responsive in bed.
But it turned out Finn could also be thoughtless, and so focused on his own work that he didn’t pay attention to how the people around him felt. That would have to be addressed in Enzo’s paintings.
Hell, what was he going to do with them? Not give them to Finn, as he’d planned. He’d always meant them to be private.
Or maybe he could take a page out of Finn’s book and start shopping them around to galleries. Enzo knew they were good. Finn had inspired some of the best work he’d done in a long time. Maybe he had to believe his work was worth it, good enough to be displayed on the walls next to the greats.
Because Enzo had put his heart into those paintings. They were real and raw and everything he loved about art. If he’d accused Finn of being disingenuous, about not being real in his work, then Enzo couldn’t do the same. He had to stop selling those stupid galaxy prints. He needed to make art that mattered.
If that meant selling coffee forever, then so be it.
Enzo got through the first coat of primer, his apron splattered with drops from his aggressive strokes. He knew better than this. He was better than this.
The creamy white paint went up much easier. He used careful long strokes with the roller, making even this a bit of art.
His shoulders ached, but when Enzo stepped back and reviewed his work, he had to nod in pleasure. The dated mural was gone, and without its tackiness, the cafe now had a crisp, sophisticated look. They might want to consider redoing the floors next. He’d mention that to his aunt tomorrow.
This morning, Enzo hadn’t known if he was going to take the job. But now he realized he needed to make this decision on his own terms.
Chapter 23
Saturday morning found Finn waiting in line at Holy Cannoli. There were about a million other places he could have gone. He could have kept walking down to Main Street and the Starbucks on the corner. Hell, he had a perfectly good coffee maker at home. He could have stayed there, sitting out on his balcony overlooking the river and sipping some freshly brewed coffee while reading his book.
But no, Finn had to torture himself. From here he could easily see Aunt Rosa’s Cafe across the street. When Enzo came in for his afternoon shift, Finn would have a clear view of him. And nobody over there would know he was here, watching them.
“How can I help you?”
Finn ordered the plainest cannoli they had. Even that had far too much sugar for his taste.
“Anything to drink?”
He must have made a face, because the girl at the counter giggled. Finn was glad the owner didn’t seem to actually work in his store, or else he might have had a problem with his plan to camp out and gawk across the street since Finn had threatened him with a lawsuit. Instead, Holy Cannoli was staffed with a gaggle of teenagers who wore paper hats and wide smiles.
