35. Pancakes are art form. #2
The conversation flowed around him as he kept staring at his food, trying to convince his hand to pick up the fork, but he couldn’t make it move.
There was too much data all around him, his mind struggling to catch everything with no one place to focus.
Petrov complained about a supplier who kept sending subpar ingredients.
Vincent was attempting to plan a double date with Marcus and Caleb, but Caleb looked like a lobster being boiled in slow motion with how red his face had gotten, which was making Adam laugh.
Matteo seemed to be in the same headspace as Nick, staring down at his food with blood drizzled on it like it was going to bite him—he just sipped his wine while Luka translated the various conversations for him.
Come on Nick, be normal. You’ve done dinners before.
Nickwasreaching for the salt when Ophelia’s water glass tipped over. Nick’s hand shot out automatically, catching the glass before it could hit the table.
“Oops,”Ophelia said, her dark eyes glinting with something akin to mischief.“Clumsy me.”
Nick set the glass upright, watching her with growing suspicion.“Uh-huh.”
Ten minutes later, she“accidentally”dropped her napkin near his feet. Nick’s handwasalready moving before the fabric hit the floor, snatching it out of the air in one smooth motion.
“Thanks,”Ophelia said, wearing a wide-eyed innocent expression.
“You’re welcome,”Nick replied dryly.
When she reached across the table for the bread basket and somehow managed to knock over the salt shaker in Nick’s direction, he caught it without even looking away from Vincent’s continued double date negotiations.
“Okay, what’s happening here?”Adam asked, glancing between them.
“Ophelia’s testing my reflexes,”Nick said, setting the salt shaker down with a small smile.“Aren’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,”Ophelia deadpanned, then added after a pause,“Your reactions are actually pretty good. Better than I expected for someone with one hand and a fucked up head.”
“Wasthat a compliment?”Adam asked with mock shock.“From Ophelia?”
“It was an observation,” Ophelia said with dignity.
Nick surprised himself by grinning.“I’ll take it.”
“Though you still look like a baby,”Ophelia added, turning her attention back to Luka.“Matteo looks fine without a beard, but you…it’s wrong and weird.”
Luka groaned and put his head in his hands.
“Leave him alone,”Marcus said mildly.“He looks fine.”
“He looks infantile,”Ophelia insisted.“I keep expecting him to ask for a juice box.”
Luka stuck his middle finger up at Ophelia. She waved her middle finger in front of her face at him, then promptly rolled her eyes as Marcus chided her.
As Nick’s stomach unclenched, he convinced himself to nibble at some of the bread that admittedly was very garlicy, but it wasincredible.
The pastawasbetter. But what struck Nick mostwasthe sound of it all—easy laughter, comfortable argument, the kind of chaotic family dynamicheforgotexisted.
He found himself relaxing by degrees as the minutes passed and he stopped trying to track all the conversations at once.
I think this is what living was supposed to be like.
“So,” Adam said during a lull in conversation, his eyes fixed on Luka, “are you two fucking or what?”
The table went dead silent. Nick’s fork clattered to his plate as his hand went completely slack. Luka’s face turned a shade of red that Nick didn’t think was physically possible.
“ADAM!” Caleb choked on his wine, coughing violently.
“What?” Adam asked with wide-eyed innocence. “I’m just curious about—”
“They probably are,” Ophelia said as she stole Caleb’s wine glass. “I saw Luka’s entire ass the other day when they—”
“OPHELIA!” This time it came from multiple voices around the table.
Nick was pretty sure he was having an out-of-body experience, or maybe the fever was back and he was dying again.
Luka made small sounds of distress into his palms.
“Why, do you want to make it a triple date?” Vincent asked Adam quietly—but loud enough for everyone to hear. Adam turned bright red.
“Oh god,” Caleb made a sound like a dying whale and slid down in his chair until only his eyes were visible above the table edge.
“Vincent,” Marcus said in a warning tone that did little to hide the amusement on his face.
Vincent leaned over and snatched the wine glass from Ophelia, swatting her hand away as she tried to grab it from him. “Oh calm down, we’re just having some fun,” he said as he placed the glass back in front of Caleb. “Come back up, Buttercup, we’ll talk date logistics later.”
Buttercup? He’d have to ask Caleb about the nickname sometime. And why he seemed like he was two seconds from bursting into flame over a triple date. That was a thing people did, right? Go out with other couples?
The conversation moved on to other things—Matteo’s plans for expanding the restaurant’s menu and his ongoing war with the bread supplier for the diner Vincent’s stories about ridiculous club patrons.
Nick found himself contributing, making jokes that landed, asking follow-up questions thatweren’tdrivenby tactical necessity.
He felt like Nick Walsh instead of a collection of survival responses wearing Nick Walsh’s face.
Dinnerwaswinding down when Vincent and Adam disappeared toward the bedrooms with barely concealed urgency.
Nick caught the look that passed between them—heated, intent—and felt his stomach flutter with something thatwasn’tquite envy butwasn’tnot envy either.
Matteo and Luka were signing at each other, both amused and seemingly unbothered by the sudden exit.
“I wish Tariq were here for this, you’d love him, Nick,” Caleb said, also seemingly unbothered by what was obviously two people sneaking off to have sex. “Though I suppose we’d have to tell him no bear hugs.”
“It not possible for DJ, he have compulsion to hug,” Petrov piped up from the end of the table, surprising Nick. He had been so quiet the whole dinner Nick almost forgot he was there.
Adam and Vincent returned twenty minutes later with mussed hair and wrinkled clothes, Adam sporting a telltale spot of blood seeping through his shirt collar.
“Really?” Marcus said dryly. “We have guests.”
“We were quiet,” Adam said with an unrepentant grin.
“Define quiet,” Ophelia muttered.
Vincent just smirked, shameless, and reached for his wine glass.
Nick stared at them, fascinated. No guilt. No careful navigation of triggers or trauma. Just two people who enjoyed each other andweren’tafraid to show it.
A thought hit him with startling clarity: he wanted that. Not necessarily the semi-public aspect, but the ease. The ability to want someone and act on it without drowning in complications and fear.
He wanted that with Luka.