Better latte than never, p.20
Better Latte Than Never, page 20
After about twenty minutes, Lydia came over with a tall coffee and put it in front of him.
“Thank you,” he said gratefully.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to not serve you. Besides, it’s bad for business, you sitting here and taking up a table with no coffee.”
“I understand,” he said solemnly. He didn’t want to break this truce, or whatever had prompted Lydia to come over. Finn sipped his coffee and sighed with pleasure. God, that was good, much better than the stuff he’d brewed to get through the past two days.
“Enzo said the book was an apology,” she said. “Do you mean it?”
Finn nodded. “I sent it off to my agent this morning.” At her confused look, he explained, “It means that’s the version that’s going to get published. Not the other one.”
“The one that pissed Enzo off so much?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but he didn’t know how much he should say. It wasn’t that Finn didn’t want to look bad, it was that he didn’t want to make the same mistake again and betray Enzo’s confidence. Before he could speak, the front door opened, and a very familiar customer walked in.
“Hey, Rosa. I’m back!” Newspaper Bill announced to the room. He held a canvas bag on one shoulder. As he moved toward the front, Finn could see the bag was filled with newspapers.
Dorothy held up her hands and clapped, although it was very obvious it was a mocking clap. “Great. What have we done without you?”
Bill nodded at Lydia. “Lydia! Give me one of my usual.”
Lydia crossed her arms over her chest and gave him that look, the one that had been leveled at Finn a few minutes ago, that made him feel about three feet tall. “Bill, you haven’t been here in months. I don’t remember your usual.”
Rosa came out from behind the counter. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
He blinked at her. “Getting coffee? What happened to your arm?”
It seemed the entire room groaned in response. Lydia sighed. “The asshole who owns the place across the street tripped her. Tell me again why we should be glad to see you after you defected?”
To be fair, Finn wanted to interject, Bill could get his coffee wherever he wanted. But he kept his mouth shut to stay on Lydia’s good side. This was not the time to piss her off.
“Oh, well, then I have good news. He’s closing up shop. Decided he’d do better with a food truck.”
“What?”
“Yeah, he said something about not wanting to deal with the overhead anymore. This way he can go anywhere. Whatever.” Bill turned toward Finn. “Came back for the coffee?”
Finn granted him a tight-lipped smile. “Among other things.”
Despite his chaotic entrance, Bill ended up settling down, his pile of newspapers on the table. Rosa brought him out pastries to try, and he would give them a thoughtful chew before reporting on specific ingredients.
Finn tried to sit back and enjoy his coffee. But he couldn’t relax at all, not when Enzo was back there with his book. Was Enzo actually reading it or humoring him? Did he like it? What if he didn’t?
Worst of all, what if he didn’t see the apology in it? Or chose not to accept it? Finn had been an ass, and he could see that clearly now. He leaned on the table with his elbows, pressing his fingers against his eyes. His head had started to pound, probably from the lack of sleep. The coffee hadn’t helped. In fact it seemed to have made it worse.
Was the book even good? They always said write drunk, edit sober, but he knew nothing about being sleep deprived. It probably sucked. Why did he even think anyone would want to read that dreck? Enzo was right. He was nothing but a hack.
The chatter in the cafe had gone quiet. Finn looked up to see what had caused the hush. Enzo stood near the counter, clutching the manuscript to his chest. His eyes were shiny and his nose red.
He came over to Finn’s table. “I finished,” Enzo said, and then cleared his throat. “I can’t believe you...Did you write this all this weekend?”
Finn got to his feet, ignoring the black spots in his vision. The room started to sway from side to side. “I haven’t slept in two days,” he said, and then couldn’t say anything more as everything went dark.
Chapter 27
Finn didn’t want to open his eyes. He floated on a sea of comfort, surrounded by softness. Reality soaked in despite his best intentions, and the cozy atmosphere crystalized into pillows and a blanket tucked up to his chin. He sat up with a gasp. The last thing he remembered was being in the cafe, and Enzo...where was he?
The world came into focus, and he recognized Enzo’s living room, despite the changes. No TV or any photos on the wall, but now an easel had been set up near the front windows. The canvas bore several streaks of blue, but nothing else. Next to it sat a rolling cart filled with tubes, bottles, and brushes. It all smelled a bit like paint thinner and ... toast?
“You’re awake.” Enzo came out of the kitchen, carrying a tray, which he set down on the table next to the couch. “Have some toast. Don’t try to eat too much at first.”
Finn blinked. Some part of him still didn’t believe this. Was he still dreaming? He’d been longing for Enzo, and desperate to make him understand, and here Enzo was, taking care of Finn. “What happened?”
“You passed out at the cafe.” Enzo sat on the little table, next to his tray. It creaked ominously but held his weight. “Lydia drove her car around, and we loaded you into it. You snored the entire way here.”
Finn heated with embarrassment. He covered his face. “Oh my God.”
“You’re lucky I caught you coming down. I saved you from hitting your head on anything.”
Finn wished he could remember that. He pictured himself swooning into Enzo’s arms like one of the heroines from his books. “Thank you.”
He leaned forward and picked up the toast. Finn took small bites, chewing slowly. It settled in his belly like a rock. Enzo held out a glass of water, and Finn took it gratefully. He started to feel a little more human, the pounding in his head easing the slightest bit.
“Did you really go the entire weekend without sleep?”
Finn handed back the glass of water and their fingers tangled together. He swallowed, relishing in this little bit of touch. “I may have taken a cat nap here and there. And I drank a lot of really bad coffee.”
Enzo set the water down but reached out and took Finn’s hand in his and squeezed it. “I can’t believe you rewrote an entire book in a weekend. Even without sleeping.”
Finn looked at their entwined hands. Maybe he hadn’t screwed everything up completely. Maybe they still had a chance. “I had to do it. I needed to show you that I’m willing to change. You were right about me being honest in my work. It wasn’t fair to you, and...” He took a deep breath before continuing, “I needed to get it to you before you took that job in New York.”
Please let him not have given his answer yet. If Finn was too late, even after working so hard...he couldn’t take it.
To his surprise, Enzo started to laugh. “That stupid job. I can’t believe it. We’re both idiots, you know?”
Finn agreed but wasn’t entirely sure why. “What?”
“I called them this morning to turn them down.” He brought Finn’s hand to his lips and kissed the tips of Finn’s fingers. It sent tingles all down Finn’s arm. “After you left, I had to decide what I really wanted. I was only going for this job because I thought I was supposed to, you know? If I wanted to make something out of my life, I needed a real job.”
“Your job doesn’t define you,” Finn protested.
Enzo granted him a smile, one of those sweet smiles that made Finn think of peppermint candy. “No, but I was starting to define myself by what I hadn’t done. I needed to start doing, you know? I met this gallery owner, and he seemed to really like my stuff. It kinda shook something loose in my head. I haven’t been doing my best to really make it as an artist.” Enzo hadn’t let go of Finn’s hand. It gave him hope, and his heart pounded so loudly Finn was certain they could hear it around the block. “I owe you an apology. It’s your career. I shouldn’t have tried to tell you what to do. Obviously, it’s worked well for you so far.”
No, Enzo didn’t need to apologize. Finn had been the one in the wrong. “But it hasn’t. I may have been successful, but I wasn’t happy. I was disillusioned with my work. It wasn’t fun anymore. I’d forgotten what it was like to have joy in my writing...until I met you.”
“And that’s why you used me in the book.” The words lay flat between them. Finn had used Enzo, and never stopped to think about it. He’d thought of Enzo as his muse, not a human being.
“I shouldn’t have sprung that on you in a podcast. I should have told you from the beginning, even before we were...” Finn closed his eyes, the memories of those magical moments he saved up coming to him now. The kiss in the storage room. Running through the rain. Random late-night texts that made him laugh. Enzo had given him more than inspiration.
“What were we?” Enzo pushed, and he should. Finn wasn’t about to leave anything unsaid, not today. “What you said on that podcast about relationships....”
“I don’t believe love will last.” The words cut like a knife to say. So much of his life had been wasted because Finn held on to that one belief. “We can’t predict the future. We don’t know what will happen next year, or even tomorrow. But now, now I think...” He licked his lips, trying to find the right words. He was a writer damn it, why should it be hard to find the right words? “I think it’s worth it. To love with everything I have, for as long as you’ll have me.”
Enzo went very still. “You’ve never said it. That you loved me.”
“I was an idiot. I love you.” Finn wanted to say it again, a thousand times. Enzo needed to know. “I love you.”
“I know.” Enzo got up from his seat and kneeled on the floor beside the couch. “I could read it in every word in that book. When Leon confessed his love at Rowan’s bedside...was I wrong to think those words were for me?”
“No,” Finn whispered as Enzo cupped his face. He closed his eyes as Enzo kissed him.
Enzo tasted like home. Finn had to touch, to catch his hands in Enzo’s hair, to breathe deeply. But now he didn’t take himself out of the moment, trying to memorize the feeling for a future without Enzo. Finn hoped it would be the start of many more kisses to come.
Enzo pulled away long enough to say, “I love you, too.”
Enzo straddled him, making Finn feel like a teenager again, all caught up in Enzo. He loved the weight of Enzo’s body, the heat of his skin up against Finn’s. He wanted to come home to this, to always have Enzo with him, on him, in him.
“I need to show you something,” Enzo said in between kisses. “In my bedroom.”
“Oh?” While Finn was definitely interested, he wasn’t quite up to snuff after this weekend. He probably needed another few hours of sleep.
Enzo laughed. “No, not what you’re thinking. It’s a painting.” He got to his feet, and held out one hand.
“I’d love to see it.” Finn tried to follow and swayed a little bit as he stood. Enzo steadied him with his hands on Finn’s hips.
They walked down the short hallway to the bedroom, touching the entire time, hip to hip, fingers entangled. Finn didn’t think they’d ever separate again. Why not? Finn wasn’t about to take Enzo for granted. Never again.
Enzo flung the door open and strode over to the canvas in the center of the room. It was facing the opposite direction, so Finn couldn’t see it yet. “I finished it on Saturday. Stayed up almost all night to do it.”
“Sounds familiar.” Finn gasped when Enzo turned the easel and revealed the image. He’d seen the previous portrait of himself that Enzo had started working on, but this was different, intimate.
He took a step forward, hand stretched out toward it. Enzo had caught him in the aftermath of passion, his eyes heavy-lidded, his lips plump, his bare skin flush with desire. “You made me beautiful.”
“I’m an artist. I paint what I see.”
“Bullshit.” Finn looked down, his cheeks coloring. He knew what he looked like—an ordinary guy with thinning hair and a pastry-belly, not this Adonis that Enzo had painted.
“Hey, don’t do that.” Enzo took Finn’s chin and lifted his face up to make sure they were looking at each other eye to eye. “If we’re going to make this thing work, then you have to know I find you gorgeous. Inside and outside.”
“And you want that? To make this thing work?” Declaring love had been one thing, but oh, to have something more. Finn couldn’t hide the hope in his voice.
“Of course. Don’t you?” Enzo frowned.
Finn tugged him down for another kiss. When they pulled apart he whispered, “Will you go steady with me?”
Enzo laughed and laughed. Finn promised he’d never stop making Enzo laugh. He’d been given a gift, and he’d appreciate every moment.
Chapter 28
Enzo frowned at his reflection, which still showed an incomplete bowtie. Actually, he had one half of it correct, and yet the other trailed down the front of his shirt. He looked at his phone and re-started the video tutorial. How hard could this be? He’d watched the tutorial about a dozen times, and yet, his tie always came out lopsided.
“I have a solution.” Finn appeared in the doorway to the bathroom.
He turned away from the mirror to grin. “Unfortunately, if it involves getting naked and hopping into bed, we’ll miss the entire show.”
Finn summoned him with one smooth arm movement. “Follow me.”
Enzo followed Finn back into his...their bedroom now, he supposed. He’d only moved in a month ago, and there were still boxes of his he hadn’t unpacked. At first he’d been mortified, having his cheap stuff all over Finn’s impeccably decorated townhouse, but Finn had gushed over everything. He’d had Enzo enlist some muscle—mostly his friends from the club scene—to get rid of the giant cherry wood bookshelves, and most of his fancy furniture. They’d trucked it downtown and sold it all to consignment shops.
“We need to make this our place,” Finn insisted. Apparently, that meant trips to antique shops. Finn had terrible taste, and Enzo delighted in watching him indulge in that.
Although that meant he now had to live with the bronze penguin in the entryway.
But Finn had finally stopped living his life for other people, stopped trying to be the image of what a bestselling author should be. Enzo knew it hadn’t been easy. Finn tried to hide most of the hate mail, but Enzo still caught sight of some of it, especially on the internet.
Some of his fans really hated that Finn had deviated from his formula. Once the blurb for his new book had gone out, the shit had hit the fan.
My grandmother has always loved your books. Now I can’t even show her the cover for your latest!
Enzo loved the cover. It had both Leon and Rowan, depicted in what he’d call a typical romance novel pose, a few inches away from kissing. They’d gotten a print from the artist and framed it. That was the only book cover art Finn allowed to remain in their office/studio combo.
Because that was what that room had become now. Enzo’s art supplies had taken over, and when he confessed his guilt over that, Finn only laughed. “All I need is a table in the corner to watch you paint while I work.”
Finn crouched down now, pulling open one of the bottom drawers of his dresser. Enzo enjoyed the way Finn’s tux flexed around his ass, but he restrained the urge to reach over and caress those cheeks. If he started that, then they’d never make it to the gallery show.
“Ta-da. Clip on ties.” Finn emerged with a flat box containing a selection of bow ties in different shades.
Enzo laughed. “You have a collection?”
Finn’s cheeks went that delightful shade of pink. “I’ve had to go to a lot of movie premieres.”
Okay, he couldn’t restrain himself any more. Enzo stepped forward and cupped Finn’s face between his hands, enjoying the smoothness of a freshly shaven jaw. “You’re adorable.” He kissed him. Some days he thought it a miracle that he got to kiss Finn any time he wanted.
Finn opened to him, his lips warm and wet. Then he pulled away, his tongue swiping out to lick his lips, which did nothing to help Enzo’s restraint. “I thought we were actually trying to go to the opening.”
“I guess.” Enzo picked out a charcoal gray tie and went back to the bathroom to use the mirror.
There he stood—Enzo LoBianco—artist with his first gallery show, wearing a crisp black tux, with his unruly hair tamed, although he’d kept the blue streak. He’d gone to blue at the end of the summer, telling Finn the shade reminded him of Finn’s eyes. He loved to watch Finn blush and sputter in response whenever Enzo complimented him.
“You look good,” Finn assured him.
Enzo tapped his fingers on the vanity. “You think they’ll make a movie about this one? Your latest book?”
To his surprise, Finn crossed the room, put his arms around Enzo’s waist and tugged him close. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“That’s not what I mean...”
“But it is. You’re worried The Sculptor’s Heart won’t do well.”
“I’m worried about the hate mail,” Enzo confessed. “I’ve seen what they say about you online.”
Finn snuggled closer, putting his chin on Enzo’s shoulder. “Yeah, but you don’t see my private messages. The kids thanking me for coming out, for writing about a gay character falling in love.”
Enzo’s heart did a little flutter in his chest. He hadn’t known about those messages, but it shouldn’t have surprised him. Finn’s work meant something to people, and now he could make an impact in a different way. “That’s amazing.”
“I always tell them they have you to thank for that.”
“Me? What did I do?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe made me rewrite the book in a weekend?” Finn pulled away and tugged on Enzo’s hand. “Come on. If we don’t leave now, we’ll end up ruining these tuxes.”
