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He just nods. “That’s for the best—that you’re not. You have school starting next month, and you would’ve resented me if you were.”

“I wouldn’t have. It takes two.”

“No, you would, and I would have been a single dad like my dad was. But I came to terms with that if that’s the way it had to be…”

“I’m not your mother, Enzo. Accident or on purpose, I would have loved the hell out of a baby, but I’m relieved that it didn’t happen,” I reply.

“I’m relieved, too. I don’t know where you’re at with me or us or whatever the fuck, and I don’t want to pressure you. But if anything physical happens between us while you’re here, I’m going to be careful. I owe you that.”

“Okay.”

He was wrong and crossed too many lines. Morally gray—that’s Enzo, but I’ve seen the beauty after the storm. And I choose it.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Enzo

I escape the office earlier than usual. Tilly has been staying with me for three days. I shouldn’t get ahead of myself—it’s only a temporary living arrangement while she collects her thoughts and calms down from what her dad did. But turning onto my street, I grin like a fucking idiot that her car is still parked in my driveway. I wouldn’t expect her to leave without saying goodbye, but she could disappear as fast as she crash-landed at the vineyard.

I’ve barely touched her since she returned, despite sleeping in the same bed, at her request. I’ve wanted to, but I’m letting her initiate. And last night as we said goodnight, she leaned in for a goodnight kiss that my restored self-control kept mostly PG.

I back into the driveway just as Tilly rounds the corner in a matching athletic set. Her hair is on top of her head, swinging around her shoulders. She smiles widely when she notices my truck in the driveway, and I shut the driver’s door as she approaches the house, pulling her wired earbuds from her ears. She drapes them around her neck and wipes the small beads of sweat collecting on her forehead.

“Hey, you’re home early,” she says.

I flick my left wrist without looking at the watch face. “A little,” I reply. “Have a good run?”

“Yeah! Thought I could shower before you got home, though.” Her cheeks are flushed from the run and hopefully not from embarrassment.

“Go for it. I’ll make dinner,” I say.

“Sounds like a plan.”

She steps out of her sneakers inside by the front door, setting her iPod on the entryway table, and I follow her upstairs to change out of my work clothes. In the walk-in closet, I strip down to my briefs and hear her turn on the shower. I catch, in the corner of my eye, that she’s completely naked, but I keep my eyes down to give her privacy. She wants me to look, but I’m not failing this test. I pull on a muscle tee and turn out of the closet as she steps in.

Passed.

I fire up the grill, and while it heats, I prepare two potatoes by seasoning them, then wrapping in foil to grill. She’s not big on salad, but I’ll still put one together. I smile to myself as I chop the greens, remembering her telling me once that the best place for kale is in a smoothie—where both the texture and flavor are masked. Breaking out the cruet, I add oil and water to start an Italian dressing.

As I walk back into the kitchen after putting the pork chops on, she emerges in a bathrobe that falls past her knees with her hair wrapped up in a towel like a crown. I don’t doubt she’s naked under the robe, but I stay focused on the cutting board.

“How was work?” she asks, resting her elbows on the counter.

“The usual. Busy. Meetings,” I answer.

“Is it helpful having Ally as ops manager now?”

“Yeah. She went to the meeting on Saturday. Without her, I would’ve had to go,” I say. I clear my throat. “I know you think she had feelings for me, but she’s mellowed out.”

Tilly rests her chin on the heel of her hand. “It’s the Enzo Valenti effect,” she jokes. I glance over at her and purse my lips out of amusement.

“You know I’ve always been selective about who I slept with, right? My body count is less than you probably think,” I add.

Tilly shrugs, making the robe shift off her shoulder to reveal more of her tanned chest. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Well, I think it does. Aside from some casual one-offs when I was in my early twenties, I dated to marry,” I say.

“Not surprised by what you told me about Mick’s sister. Hey, did you ever get your Saab back from him?”