Chapter Thirteen #3
After he’d left the kitchen in search of Xander, Evan moved closer to Miles, bumping their shoulders together. “What happened with Nate and Wyatt?” he hissed under his breath. Curiosity was probably going to be the death of him.
Miles just shrugged though. “You met Nate, he’s insufferable.”
“But Wyatt dated him in the first place,” Evan insisted.
“Yeah, I think Nate wasn’t very happy he wouldn’t get serious and introduce him to his family. To his brothers and his nana, rather.”
“Yeah,” Kian said, wandering over. “His brothers suspect he’s gay, but his nana has no idea. She’s sort of old-school Irish Catholic and I don’t think he believes she’d understand.”
The only nice thing about being a foster kid with no family of which to speak of was that when he’d come out, there hadn’t really been anyone who cared or objected. Evan knew that it was definitely not that simple for everyone.
“I remember when I told my high school girlfriend I thought I was gay,” Miles said, “and she just laughed and told me, ‘of course you are.’”
“Yeah, not everyone is as understanding as your family, Miles,” Kian said, and Evan, who wasn’t the world’s biggest toucher generally, surprisingly wanted to hug the apprehension out of his eyes.
“It’s never easy,” Evan said, even though it had been relatively cut and dried for him.
He’d already been in a fairly open foster care situation with so many kids, the guardians hadn’t really cared as long as you stayed out of trouble.
Being gay hadn’t ranked anywhere with getting arrested or burning the house down, so they’d just shrugged and moved on.
“What isn’t easy?” Xander stood in the doorway, Wyatt following close behind him. “Dinner wasn’t easy? If that was the case I could have helped you out, Costa.”
Miles rolled his eyes. “Dinner was no big deal. Come sit down before I decide to punch you in the face.”
But Xander did as he was told, and slumped into the seat at the head of the table, not surprising Evan at all.
The ratatouille was fragrant with oregano, basil and garlic; the zucchini and squash tender under the crusty lid of parmesan, the base soft with a zesty tomato sauce.
There was silence for a few minutes as everyone ate, sopping up the sauce with the garlic bread Miles had prepared.
“So where did you guys go today?” Kian asked.
Evan remembered how they’d crumpled the paper bag from the winery and buried it so Wyatt wouldn’t see it.
“Uh,” he said.
“A few wineries,” Miles inserted and then very casually changed the subject. “I thought we’d do a picnic lunch up by the castle tomorrow. It’s supposed to be a nice day. Wyatt, did you take care of that thing I asked you for?”
Wyatt nodded, mouth full of ratatouille. “It’ll be under your name.”
“Great, thanks.” Miles smiled over at Evan, who was trying to decide if licking his plate clean would be rude.
“That was pretty good,” Xander said. “Maybe if your video thing fails, you can go become a line cook at Olive Garden.”
“Next time, I’m going to force you to make yourself Italian food. And it probably won’t be as good as mine.” Miles’ voice still sounded kind, but he grimaced as he sipped his wine.
“What did you put in the sauce?” Wyatt asked. “There’s an earthiness in it . . .”
“Evan,” Miles said, leaning over, breath brushing his neck, which reminded him that it was only his stomach that was satisfied. “Wyatt’s nose and taste buds are legendary. He can usually figure out what’s in anything.”
“But you asked?” Evan said, crinkling his own nose.
Wyatt shrugged. “People don’t generally like it when I list their recipe out for them.”
“You mean, Xander doesn’t like it,” Kian said, laughing.
“I think it’s a wild mushroom, maybe? And red wine? A chianti?” Wyatt guessed.
“You’re half right. Dried mushrooms reconstituted in some tempranillo.”
“Damn it, that was the earthiness.” Wyatt tipped his glass to Miles. “Well, kudos for fooling me.”
Evan hadn’t really realized how much Miles was giving up by leaving Terroir and his three roommates. Yeah, he’d taken a chance on a crossroads career move, but there had been reasons for him to stay in Napa. And a lot of those reasons were sitting at the table with them.
“How did you all meet?” Evan asked. He was sort of completely desperate to go to the hotel and remind Miles just who he was dating. And this time he’d only had half a glass of wine.
“Wyatt and Miles met in culinary school. Xander went to school in New York City and we met at Terroir. And I moved in last year, after I graduated, and got Chef Aquino’s internship,” Kian said.
“You mean, Chef Aquino’s hard labor,” Xander said.
“It’s not that bad,” Kian protested. “It’s a really prestigious position.”
Evan saw the concern Xander was voicing reflected in Miles’ eyes. So Xander wasn’t off-base or even overreacting.
“That’s what they tell you to force you to take all the shit he dishes out,” Wyatt pointed out quietly.
“I’ve got an early morning,” Kian said, abruptly getting to his feet. “And I’m sure Evan and Miles have something important to do.”
“You shouldn’t push him,” Xander said under his breath after Kian had left the room.
“Yeah, if I don’t, then he keeps letting Aquino ride him. And I don’t like that either,” Wyatt said.
“It’s gotten worse since I left,” Miles stated rather than questioned.
“I swear to god, he’s obsessed with him. Kian with Aquino, I mean. And, I don’t know, maybe the other way around. It’s weird. They’re weirdly co-dependent on each other. I don’t get it.”
“I’ll put out some feelers in LA,” Miles said, getting to this feet. “Maybe we can convince him to leave. Take a job in LA.”
“Kian ever leaving Terroir and Bastian Aquino? Yeah, good luck with that,” Xander said bitterly.