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Enzo had spent the first six years of his life in Sicily before moving to New York. So, unlike me, he still had a faint Italian accent whenever he became passionate about something. Apparently, that made him even more swoon-worthy.
“This is your dream, too. I don’t want to ruin everything. I don’t want to fail you.” My eyes became wet, and I did my best to fight the tears.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Enzo strode across the room in a few quick steps. Once at my side, he spun my chair to face him and knelt before me. “And don’t you dare worry about me.”
The tears escaped and scrolled down my face—one teardrop for every bill I struggled to pay. The restaurant business was so damn hard, especially when times were tough for everyone in our economy.
“You traded your baby in last week for an older model to pay the staff and rent. I know that’s why you did it. You loved that Jeep. I won’t have you give up anything else for this place,” Enzo continued, his dark brows slanting with determination. “Let me help. You know I can come up with the cash to keep the place afloat.”
“Don’t you dare think about selling your Porsche.”
“I wouldn’t do that. But I can get the money. Just tell me how much you need.”
“I won’t have you ask your family. This is my responsibility.” I pushed back from the desk and stood, which had Enzo rising to his towering height of six-three. “Don’t even think about it, okay?” I stabbed his hard chest and tipped my chin to find his dark, brown eyes. “You’re the best Italian chef in all of Charlotte.”
“More like the best chef, period.” He winked before squeezing my shoulder. “You’ll ask me for help before you do something crazy, right? No selling a kidney or offering your firstborn to one of those men I constantly have to scare away?” He smiled. “Those assholes are one of the few reasons I leave my kitchen.”
At least he had me chuckling. “That and you love watching people enjoy your food.”
“Maybe.” He scratched his trimmed dark beard. “But these men do need to bite their tongue when they talk to you.”
“I know, Mr. Tough Guy,” I teased, but in reality, he really was a badass. “And my parents appreciate you always looking out for us.”
“Yeah, well, unfortunately, I wasn’t living here yet to stop Maria from marrying that idiot husband of hers. Thomas is horrible at keeping an eye on Maria and his daughter.”
I wasn’t a fan of my sister’s husband, but unlike Enzo, I kept my lips shut about it. I figured I lost that battle with Maria the day she told me she was pregnant with my niece, Chiara, who was now nine months old.
“Anyways.” He huffed out a deep breath. “I hate to leave you like this, but I need to get back to the kitchen.”
“I’ll be okay.” I removed his hand from my shoulder and held it between my palms.
I met Enzo when I briefly lived in Manhattan in my twenties. Our dads were best friends, and since Enzo’s family lived in New York, my father had called in a favor. Enzo had been assigned the role to “watch over me” while I was there, and we remained friends even after I moved back to Charlotte.
“You moved here for this place. For me.” I swallowed, knowing I had to renew my confidence. Fake it until I make it, right? “Somehow, everything will work out. It has to.”
Enzo smiled. “We’ll be okay.”
I let go of his hand when I heard the door opening. No one from my staff would barge in without knocking, which meant it was my sister, and I didn’t want her getting the wrong idea about us.
“Hey, you two.” Maria had her daughter situated at her hip when she came in, but she looked far more casual than normal.
Maria’s dark, glossy hair wasn’t hot-ironed straight like her husband preferred. Instead, it was in a messy bun at the top of her head. And she wasn’t wearing makeup.
I quickly slid the stack of bills into my top drawer before addressing my sister.
“What’s wrong?” Enzo asked, beating me to it. He took her squirming, beautiful daughter into his arms, and Maria collapsed onto the black leather chair in front of my desk.
“Nothing’s wrong, Mom told me you have a date tonight. I thought I’d fill in for you so you could have a stress-free evening without worrying about the restaurant while you’re out. I know how much you hate leaving this place while it’s open.”
“Date?” I blinked in confusion. Shit, now I remembered. The date Mom had “scheduled” for me with one of her church friends’ sons. An ER doctor who recently transferred from Uptown Charlotte to our small town of Waxhaw.
Except, our town didn’t feel so small anymore. It’d been steadily growing as more and more people began moving farther outside the city, gobbling up every square inch of land. Which was one reason I’d thought it’d be safe to open my restaurant in Waxhaw instead of closer to Uptown.
“I thought I told her to cancel.” In fact, I was sure of it.
“Mom being Mom, forgot.” Maria fidgeted with the mammoth-sized rock of a diamond on her finger. “On purpose. Obviously.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re dressed like you left Pilates if you were planning to swap places with me.” I redirected my attention to Enzo, who had Chiara giggling by tickling her belly. Apparently, the badass was also a baby whisperer.
