Chapter 28 #2
Gabi appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes land on Gavin, and her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. She looks at me. Back at Gavin. Back at me.
I glare at her. She grins.
"You must be Sebastian's… friend," she says sweetly. "I'm Gabi. Seb's favorite sister."
"I don't have a favorite," I mutter.
"Lies. I'm clearly the favorite."
Sophia waddles in from the living room, one hand on her belly. Rick trails behind her, looking vaguely anxious as always.
"Oh!" Sophia stops short when she sees Gavin. "Oh, wow. You're... big."
"Sophia!" I hiss.
"What? He is!" She's not wrong. Gavin takes up approximately half the hallway. "I'm Sophia. This is my husband, Rick."
Rick nods, eyes darting between Gavin and me like he's trying to solve a puzzle.
"Nice to meet you all," Gavin says, completely unbothered by the scrutiny.
My father emerges from his study, and the energy shifts. He's a big man, not as big as Gavin, but solid, imposing. His eyes sweep over my "friend" with obvious assessment.
"Papa, this is Gavin. He plays football for PCU."
The magic words. My father's face transforms. "Football? What position?"
"Defensive end, sir."
"Defensive end. Oh, you're Gavin Robins!" Papa claps Gavin on the shoulder like they're old friends. "Come, come. Tell me about the team. I watched every game this season."
And just like that, Gavin is absorbed into my father's orbit, talking defensive strategies and season highlights as they head toward the living room.
Gabi and Sophia sidle up to me. "So. A 'friend,' huh?"
"Shut up."
"He's cute."
"Shut up."
"Also enormous. Like, concerningly large."
"I hate you both."
They dissolve into giggles as mamma calls everyone to the dining room.
Dinner starts well.
Gavin compliments the lasagna at least four times, which makes my mamma beam. He talks football with my father, who is more animated than I've seen him in months. He asks Sophia about the baby, Rick about his accounting firm, and Gabi about her work.
He's perfect. Absolutely perfect.
"Seb came to the exhibition last weekend," Gavin mentions casually, and my father's head swivels toward me.
"You went to a football game?"
"It was a special occasion," I mumble.
"But you hate football. You said it was… what was it, 'organized violence for people with too much testosterone.'"
Gabi snorts. Sophia hides her smile behind her napkin. Gavin's eyes are laughing at me.
"I was being supportive," I say through gritted teeth.
My mamma catches my eye across the table and smiles knowingly.
Shit. She knows. She definitely knows.
"Speaking of support," my father says, setting down his fork, "when are you finishing this degree of yours? I have so much to teach you, Sebastiano. The business—"
“Papa,” Gabi interrupts gently, "I've been handling—"
"—has never been stronger, yes, because you girls have been keeping things running, but when Sebastian comes on board—"
"I was thinking," Gabi tries again, "that maybe we could talk about the new contract I landed last week—"
"—he can learn the supplier relationships, the client management, all the things my father taught me—"
"Sabatino," mamma says, a warning in her voice.
"—and eventually, Moretti and Son will mean something, the way it was meant to—"
"Papa, Gabi is trying to tell you—" I start.
"I know, I know, she's been wonderful, but Sebastian, you need to understand the legacy—"
"Papa—"
"—my father built this company with his bare hands, and his father before him—"
"Papa—”
"—so when I came here… Well it's important that a Moretti son carries on the tradition, which is why—"
Something in my chest snaps.
"Enough!” I stand up so fast my chair scrapes against the floor. My face is hot, my heart pounding. "Papa, you need to pull your head out of your ass!"
Silence crashes over the table.
My father blinks, thrown. "Sebastiano—"
"No, just listen to me for once!" The words are tumbling out, years of frustration finally boiling over. "Gabi is going to run the company. She's been running it for almost a year, and she's incredible at it, and you'd know that if you paid attention!"
"I—"
"Sophia is going to give you grandbabies, and she's going to be an amazing mother, and Rick is going to be a fantastic father, and you should be thanking them instead of ignoring them!"
Rick's head swivels between my father and me like an owl watching a tennis match.
"And I—" I'm shaking now, fists clenched at my sides. "I'm going to be a doctor. I got into med school. I start next term. And I'm not coming to work for you. Ever."
My father's mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
"And another thing—” I'm on a roll now, can't stop, don't want to stop. "Gavin isn't my friend. He's my boyfriend. I'm gay, Papa. I've been gay my whole life. And I'm done pretending otherwise!"
You could hear a pin drop around our table.
Then Gavin's hand reaches up and takes mine, warm and steady.
I look down at him. He's smiling, soft and proud.
Across the table, Gabi and Sophia exchange a look. Then, very quietly, Gabi pulls a twenty out of her pocket and hands it to Sophia.
"I said by Christmas," Sophia whispers. "You said never."
"I was being supportive!"
"You were being wrong."
Mamma clears her throat. "A doctor! Sebastiano, that's wonderful!" She's already pulling out her phone. "Who should I tell first? Rosa? No, no, Angela—she's always bragging about her son the lawyer, well now I have a son the doctor—“
"Mamma—"
"And your boyfriend is very tall, no? Very big." She beams at Gavin. "You'll eat more lasagna. You're too skinny."
Gavin, who is approximately the size of a small vehicle, nods solemnly. "Yes, ma'am."
Gabi leans in, lowering her voice so only I can hear. "Didn't peg you for a size queen, Seb."
Gavin choke-laughs beside me.
I'm going to kill her.
Sophia leans in from my other side, eyes sparkling. "Does he come with a box for you to stand on, or—"
"I will murder you." I point at Gabi. "And you—" I shift to Sophia. "Are on borrowed time. The baby's the only thing saving you right now."
They dissolve into giggles, completely unrepentant.
But I'm watching my father.
He hasn't moved. His eyes are distant, processing. Finally, he looks at Gabi.
"You've really been running things?"
"For about ten months, Papa." Her voice is gentler now. "Yeah."
He sits back in his chair, blinking rapidly. His gaze moves to Sophia, to Rick, and his face lights up with a small smile. Rick doesn't seem to know what to do, but he shyly smiles back.
Papa then looks at me, then at Gavin.
"Can football players be gay now?"
Gavin smiles. "There are a few of us, sir. More every year."
More blinking. Papa looks at me again, and I hold my breath.
"Well." He clears his throat. "I suppose a doctor would be alright in the family. Maybe if mi papà would have listened to a family member. Maybe he'd still be here."
My throat tightens. Grandpapa. The heart attack that took him too fast, too young. The one that made me want to be a doctor in the first place.
"That's it?" I hear myself say. "That's your response? 'Maybe Grandpapa would have listened'? And me being gay is just... fine with you?"
Mamma elbows my father sharply. He startles, looking between us with an expression of genuine confusion.
"Well... yes? Gaga says you were born this way, no?"
I stare at him. "Did you just quote Lady Gaga to me?"
"Your mamma plays her music very loud."
I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I settle for scrubbing my hands over my face. "Okay. Okay. Fine. Great. In that case, will you start doing some heart-healthy exercises? You're at risk for the same thing that got Grandpa."
My father's expression immediately shutters. "I wouldn't take it that far."
The table erupts into laughter, the tension breaking like a wave, everyone talking over each other, mamma already planning how to announce my medical career to every relative within a hundred and fifty mile radius.
Gavin tugs my hand, and I look down at him.
"C'mere," he murmurs.
He pulls me into his lap right there at the dinner table, arms wrapping around me, solid and warm and mine. I should be embarrassed. I'm not.
"Awwww," Sophia coos.
"Disgusting," Gabi says, but she's smiling.
Gavin presses a kiss to my temple, and I finally, finally let myself relax.
"Told you it would be fine," he whispers against my hair.
"Shut up."
"That's not very nice."
"I'm not very nice."
His arms tighten around me. "Yeah, you are. You're the nicest person I know."
I twist to look at him. "That's a low bar. Remember, I've met some of your family."
He laughs, bright and warm, and I feel it vibrate through my whole body.
Around us, my family chatters and argues and laughs, mamma planning, my father still processing, my sisters teasing, Rick watching it all with a bemused smile on his face.
It's chaos. It's loud. It's home.
And somehow, with a giant football player's arms wrapped around me and my sisters making dick jokes across the table, this is the first family dinner in years where I haven't wanted to fake a stomach bug and leave early.
I don't need to run.