Chapter 18
MATEO
My mother stepped onto the stoop with her hands on her hips, surveyed the scene in the alley, and let us have it…
in Italian. The gist was, “What do you think you’re doing?
We have customers. So many customers! You can’t all be out here.
Get your butts inside and get to work and… ” and so on and so on.
Yeah, it was probably a good thing my cousins had never learned the language.
I patted Rob’s shoulder—because I couldn’t not touch him—and strode toward my mother. “Leave ’em alone, Ma,” I scolded. “We’ve been going hard for days now. We needed to blow off a little steam.”
Her eagle-eyed gaze landed on Rob and Amber, who waved politely.
“Mrs. C, I have a new herb seasoning for you to try,” Amber called out. “I think it goes well on the everything bagel.”
“I will come over…as soon as these boys put their ball away,” Ma replied in her lilting accent.
“We’re coming, we’re coming,” Sal grumbled, pausing to kiss Ma’s cheek before heading into the restaurant, his brothers trailing behind him. “Let’s go, Teo.”
I didn’t move, though. Truthfully, I was a little worried about Rob. It didn’t take a genius to realize that international interest in our tiny town’s bake-off was taking a toll on him.
I felt protective for reasons unknown and wished I could do or say something to ease his mind. That wasn’t like me. At all. But I couldn’t do anything here. We could talk tonight at my place.
Christ, was that really a date?
What was wrong with me?
“Roberto, I will walk with you,” Ma called to Rob.
Rob cast a curious glance our way and smiled patiently. “Of course.”
I frowned. “What are you doing?”
Ma squeezed my cheeks, then patted them…hard. “I am quizzing your ragazzo. But don’t worry. I will be cool.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I whisper-hissed. “And since when are you cool?”
“I am always cool! You are the moony one. You have starry eyes, and you don’t think I see? Ay, Mateo. I was not born on yesterday. Ciao.”
And with that, she sashayed toward Amber and Rob.
Okay…that could only be trouble.
“Your mom knows about us.”
I stirred the Bolognese sauce simmering on the stove. “Yeah, she thinks you’re hot for me.”
Rob’s blush was instantaneous. “Should I be alarmed?”
“That’s up to you. If you’re worried, you should know my cousins are on to us too.” I set the spoon aside and filled a pot with water.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, but it’s ’cause you laugh at my jokes, and I’m not exactly funny.”
“Laugh at—what?” Rob sputtered. “I don’t laugh. I wouldn’t—”
“Relax. I’m teasing you. They know me, Rob. They know I’m gay, and they know we’re friends. They’ve also noticed how much time we spend together. It’s just a matter of simple deduction.”
“Oh. Right.”
“In fact, one of them probably saw you come upstairs with me thirty minutes ago, and might think that Bolognese is some kind of ‘hanky-panky’ code. Does that bother you?”
“No.” He answered quickly as if he didn’t have to think about it.
“Are you sure? It’s okay if you—”
“I’m very sure.”
“Then what’s bothering you? Maybe I shouldn’t have said ‘date,’ huh?
I made it weird. It’s just dinner…and Ma made the sauce, so it’s not like I was slaving over the stove all day for this.
I didn’t even clean up. Okay…I did change the sheets, but I was gonna do that anyway.
And you’ll notice, I didn’t light any candles or buy flowers.
I don’t even think I own a single stupid candle, for fuck’s sake. ”
Rob’s lips quirked in amusement. “Are you finished?”
I scrubbed my stubbled jaw, embarrassed by my outburst. “Yeah. Just…tell me what she said.”
Rob moved into my space and leaned on the counter.
From this spot, he could view my entire apartment.
My place was literally a fraction of the size of Rob’s.
His house was light and airy, decorated with the beach-themed prints and ocean-inspired colors a high-end designer had deemed appropriate, while mine was filled with family lore.
The sturdy furniture had once belonged to my parents, and the walls were decorated with action photos from ski trips and parties my mom had hung years ago.
I never invited men here. This was a family space.
My cousins were downstairs working, my grandparents’ wedding album was on a bookshelf lined with lace my mother had brought with her from the old country.
Lace. In a grown man’s apartment. It was hard to explain to most booty calls, but Rob was different.
He understood family and respected traditions that weren’t his own. Which was why I wasn’t overly concerned that my mom had scared him off earlier.
“She discussed herbs with Amber and…uh, she may have given us a few spice tips for our marinara. That’s it.”
My jaw dropped. “She did not.”
“Did too,” he singsonged.
“My mother turned traitor? I don’t believe it.”
Rob snickered. “No, no. She pretty much said I’d need a bigger commitment from you before she’d give up the good stuff.”
My face was on fire. I opened and closed my mouth, then gave up and shook my head mournfully. “My family is the worst.”
“They’re the best.” He lifted my chin with the pad of his thumb. “So are you. Dinner smells amazing and I appreciate the invitation, but you didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“Don’t get excited. This is all about sex.”
“Ahh,” he drawled sarcastically.
“As soon as that lock clicks behind my cousins and we finally have the building to ourselves, I’m absolutely going to attack you. How do you feel about tagliatelle?”
“Love it. Can I help?”
“No, I’ve seen you murder spaghetti. My heart can’t take it tonight. You can set the table.” I gestured to the battered wood cupboards where plates were stored and checked the pot of boiling water on the stove.
Rob smacked my butt. “Wise-ass.”
We sat at the table for two that looked out on the street with heaping bowls of pasta and a bottle of Chianti between us. All that was missing was a red-and-white checked tablecloth and a scratchy recording of Dean Martin singing “That’s Amore.” I had both, but I didn’t want to go overboard.
“More wine?” I asked, dabbing my mouth as I reached for the bottle.
“No, this is perfect.” He twirled pasta around his fork and sighed happily. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now, out with it. What’s buggin’ you?”
Rob snorted. “Subtle.”
“I’d apologize, but you’ve met my family.”
He rested his calf against mine under the table, his gaze fixed on me as he chewed and swallowed. “I have.”
“Well…” I prodded.
A sip of wine and another deep sigh later, Rob leaned back in his chair, worrying his bottom lip.
“This weekend feels bigger than we intended. The social media campaign was wildly successful. Maybe too successful. My agent is making a special trip west for this. I haven’t seen Bill in a year, and suddenly he’s got big ideas on how to end my career with a bang…
and drum up new ideas for postretirement endorsements.
I don’t care what anyone tells you, it all comes down to money. ”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“I’d feel better if we were talking about a football contract. But that’s over. He hasn’t said as much, but I think Bill is hatching a crafty plan to make me a queer ambassador. And like it or not, you’ll get dragged into it too.”
“Me?” I cocked my head curiously. “How so?”
“Bill remembers you. From Tennessee.”
“Ah.” I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but I nodded along.
“He’s been asking about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if a well-known sports reporter or podcaster reaches out for an interview for a story about you.”
I scoffed. “Why? Sounds boring.”
“I don’t think so. Not now. Thanks to Amber’s online campaign, we’ve got almost a million folks tuning in for the bake-off. Fans have been voting all week, and they’re invested. They want to see who’ll win.”
“Me.”
Rob kicked my shin. “I’m being serious here.”
“I know, I know, but…maybe you’re overthinking this.
I sell pizza for a living, Rob. My days as a quarterback are long gone.
It’s nice to put on a jersey, go to a game, and act like a mini celebrity, but that’s all it is—an act.
My life is this shop, carrying on a family tradition.
For all intents and purposes, I am pizza. ”
“Not quite. You’re a gay man who’s about to be thrust into the spotlight because of me.”
I could tell he was worked up and that a snarky reminder that I was already out wouldn’t go over well. Still…I wasn’t sure why he was so agitated. “Are you coming out at the bake-off?”
“No, but I’ll do it soon. Like…next month.
” He raked a hand through his hair and continued.
“Maybe I am overthinking this. Or maybe I’m just realizing that on the brink of coming out publicly, I’ve accidentally made my platform bigger than I meant to, and now there’s nowhere to hide.
And…I’m worried that I’ve put you in a compromising position. ”
I blinked in confusion, but…it made perfect sense.
He was afraid. For me.
Rob was somebody. He’d had a big career.
He’d won a fucking Super Bowl. Of course people would be interested in his life.
The bake-off was good for the town and Boardwalk Pizza, but reporters weren’t going to be curious about Sal or Vanni or Jimmy.
But they might be curious about my cautionary tale of what happens to some high-flying sports hero wannabes.
Not thinking about the possible repercussions was na?ve to the point of being reckless.
But really…did it matter?
I was out. The people I loved most and whose opinion I cared about had supported me. I hadn’t thought about the crushing weight of coming out in a long time. I’d put that chapter well behind me.
I pushed my plate aside, held my hand out, and waited for Rob to tentatively slip his palm over mine. “Hey, don’t worry about me.”
“Teo…”