20. Theo
TWENTY
THEO
I got dressed up tonight.
I’m wearing a tie. A tie for fuck’s sake. I don’t wear ties because they’re too suffocating. I keep tugging at it, trying to get some breath, but I don’t take it off.
Because I want to look nice for Matteo.
It’s a frustrating loop I find myself in. Thinking of him, thinking of my marriage, and on and on and on until my head hurts. I want him, but I don’t. It feels like I need him, but I shouldn’t.
All I know is I’m looking forward to seeing him. Marriage counseling hasn’t been enough. I try to keep my head down and my eyes away from him, but it’s so difficult when all I want to do is linger after Clara’s gone and wrap myself in his arms.
I’m sitting impatiently on the couch, my knee bouncing incessantly as I wait for the doorbell to ring. It’s two until seven, right when he should be arriving, and I hold my breath as the anticipation grows.
The doorbell rings and I shoot out of my seat, happy that Clara and her parents are in the kitchen, so they don’t see my eagerness. I race to the door, almost fumbling with the knob before whipping the door open. Matteo is on the other side. He looks as stunning as he always does. Wayward curls in front of his forehead, his defined chest and arms wrapped in a black button-up shirt, a weak smile on his face when he sees me.
For a split second, I imagine that he’s only here for me. That he dressed up for me just like I dressed up for him. I loathe that it’s my first thought, but I’ve been lying to myself for the past month, thinking I could convince myself that what I feel for him is just hero worship.
“Hi,” I breathe, looking down at the tin in his hands. “Um, you didn’t have to bring anything.”
Someone clears their throat but it’s not him. I look to the side and my eyes widen when I realize I’ve completely missed Marcy standing beside him. I curse at myself for my poor manners and for being too blinded by my priest to notice her. “Marcy, thank you for joining us.”
“Better than spendin’ my night alone,” she jokes, but I know she's truly thankful for the invite ever since her husband passed away. She cocks her head to the side, eyes narrowing slightly. “You good, Theo? You look a little flushed.”
Well, if I was flushed before, I must be flaming now. I clear my throat with a nod. “Yeah, totally. Come on in.”
I step to the side so Marcy can come in first, but I hold my breath as Matteo passes me. We're both turned to the side as he steps in, but he lingers for a second too long right in front of me. Words would be meaningless right now because the look he’s giving me says it all.
I want to see you come again.
I know he probably doesn’t mean it because his eyes widen a moment later and he rushes past me. Marcy heads straight to the dining room so I follow her. Noreen and Clara are just finishing getting the table set, all the traditional Thanksgiving food laid out in front of us. Noreen and Clara both smile when they see our guests.
“Right on time,” Noreen cheers. She turns to Clara and places a hand on her arm. “Turkey’s still cooking, Clara. Why don’t you show our guests to the living room for a bit.”
Clara nods and directs us all to the next room just as Bill comes down from upstairs, his face lighting up when he sees Marcy and Matteo.
“Where’s Noreen?” he asks as he sits down, gesturing for the rest of us to sit as well.
“Mom’s getting the turkey ready.” Clara sits down on the couch and pulls me alongside her, putting me directly across from Matteo who’s sitting in one of the armchairs.
In this position, I can see Matteo clearly, and it would be too obvious if I looked away. When Clara places her hand on my thigh, rubbing her thumb against my knee, I see a flash of something cross his eyes. His jaw sets in a tight line and he looks to the left at Marcy, but I see the vein throbbing in his throat.
Is he jealous of my wife? Does he want to be the one sitting beside me? Touching me?
No, it doesn’t matter what he wants or doesn’t want. It’s about what I want, and I can’t want him.
“There you are,” Bill says as Noreen emerges from the kitchen. “Turkey still not done?”
“It’s got about twenty minutes left,” she tells him, coming to sit down beside me. “Have you offered them something to drink yet?”
Bill shakes his head. “Where are my manners? Father? Marcy?”
“Vodka. Straight up.”
We all laugh as Bill turns to Matteo. “I have a scotch you might like, Father.”
Once again, a flicker of darkness in Matteo’s eyes that’s quickly dismissed. “No but thank you, Bill. I’ll take a club soda if you have any.”
“Certainly,” Bill says, heading to the bar cart.
“So, Father, tell me. How was the soup kitchen in Cheyenne this morning? I’m sorry we couldn’t make it,” Noreen says.
Matteo smiles, kindly and genuinely. “It was wonderful and don’t feel bad. Today is about spending time with family, so I understand that most couldn’t make it. I’m just happy Marcy and I were there to spread some familial spirit.”
I gulp. I wish I could have gone this morning. Not because I wanted to be close to Matteo but because I loved my experience at the soup kitchen last time. It’s just one of the things I’ve been avoiding in fear I’ll get too close to him again and not be able to control myself.
“Any other plans for the holidays this year?” Clara asks him, accepting a drink from her dad. “You’re more than welcome to join us for Christmas this year after Mass or on New Year's Eve.”
Matteo opens his mouth, but Marcy cuts him off. “We actually have plans.”
“We do?” Matteo asks, cocking his head at her. “When did this happen?”
Marcy rolls her eyes. “You planned a church retreat for the congregation the week before Christmas.”
“I did?”
“Well, I did it for you.”
Noreen chuckles because that’s typical Marcy. She’s a bulldozer in the best of ways. Matteo is lucky to have her as his secretary. Matteo’s brow quirks up in interest. “Where are we going?”
“Oh, you’re goin’ to like this.” Marcy rubs her hands deviously. “We’re goin’ to Camp Acceptance.”
The name registers with me. Matteo mentioned it once. It’s where he used to be assigned before coming to Wyoming. I remember his speaking fondly of it, and my suspicions are confirmed when the greatest smile overtakes his face.
“Really?” he asks, reaching for Marcy’s hand. “When did you plan this?”
She shrugs. “I called Jarred the other day. He can’t wait to see you by the way.”
“I’m sorry, what’s Camp Acceptance?” Clara asks.
Matteo turns away from Marcy to address the rest of the room. “I lived there for ten years before coming here. It’s an inclusive camp in North Carolina that caters to all demographics and denominations. My friend Jarred runs it.”
“Oh, that sounds exciting,” Noreen says, clapping her hands. “You preached there?”
He nods. “It used to be a Catholic camp before Jarred met his partner and decided to make it more diverse.”
“That’s great,” Bill says with a curt nod. “People need to be more accepting these days. All the hate out there is ridiculous. I’m glad there’s a place like that in the world.”
I smile because I’m reminded just how great Clara’s parents are. Even though they’re Catholic, they’re accepting and generous. They’ve never shown a hint of homophobia around me.
Matteo must sense it too because his shoulders drop in near relief. He chuckles under his breath before looking at Marcy. “So, how is this going to work?”
“We’re goin’ to use the funds raised from the Fall Festival to help the families pay for the tickets. Jarred said we could book the camp for a week, and he’d set up classes and activities for us.”
“What do you think, Mom?” Clara asks, her enthusiasm apparent. “Will you and Dad come?”
Bill shakes his head. “I’m too old for that, unfortunately.”
“Agreed,” Noreen says. “But you and Theo should go.”
Everyone turns to me, and I nearly shrink in my seat. “I…”
“It’d be so great,” Clara pushes, shaking my shoulders lightly. “It’ll be like a little vacation.”
“I don’t know,” I say, scratching the back of my neck. “I don’t know if Jerry will let me off for so long.”
Clara’s confused as she wrinkles her nose. “Why aren’t you excited? This is something you’d love.”
She’s entirely right. Before, I would have jumped at this chance. I love the community I’ve built in the church and traveling outside of Wyoming does sound exciting.
But that means a week with Matteo nearby, seeing him every day, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
No, I do, and the excitement is daunting.
“Oh, come on,” Marcy urges. “Father, tell him he should come.”
Matteo meets my eyes. He sucks in a sharp breath that’s probably unnoticeable to everyone else, but I’m so in tune with his body that I can spot it a mile away. He looks torn as well. His fingers twitch on his lap and he shrugs. “If he doesn’t want to go…”
Hurt courses through me. Of course, he’s not going to say I should go. Why would he? This must mean he’s moved on, and that the inappropriate feelings I have for him are one-sided.
“Please, Theo,” Clara says, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I think it would be good for us.”
I’m just about to say no again when someone clears their throat.
“You should come.”
My head snaps up to Matteo. He’s still straining with the effort to… I don’t know what, but I don’t miss the longing in his eyes. Christ, this is awkward as fuck. I swear, I must be giving him heart eyes at his words, and I hope no one notices.
“Sure,” I mumble. I’m going for my wife because she wants me to. That’s it. Matteo just happened to agree but that means nothing.
Noreen checks her watch. “Oh, the turkey should be done by now. Let’s eat.”
We all go to the dining room table and sit as Noreen brings out the turkey. Matteo says grace and then we dig in. The conversation at the table is polite—more excitement about Camp Acceptance, how Bill’s work is going, whether Marcy has a new hairstylist—and it’s so normal.
But my breath hitches when I feel something brush up against my foot.
I whip my head up and away from my food to stare at Matteo from across the table. He’s mid-chew and swallows dryly, tense as all hell.
Then I feel it again but purposefully this time. He’s… He’s touching me. My heart races as I watch him continue to eat like nothing’s going on under the table, politely accepting more mashed potatoes from my wife as he plays footsie with me.
Oh, come on. You don’t have a foot fetish.
Shit, maybe for him I do.
I must because I twitch my foot, dragging it up so it rests lightly against his ankle, feet tangling with each other as dinner continues. It’s the only thing I can pay attention to. Even when Noreen brings out my favorite dessert, I pay it no mind.
This little game continues between us until dinner is over and everybody retires to the living room. Noreen’s given Matteo and Marcy leftovers and they sit with it on their lap as we chat for a bit longer.
After a while, Matteo clears his throat and stands. “I think I should go. I have an early morning tomorrow.” He turns to Marcy. “Can I walk you home?”
“I think I’m goin’ to stay for a bit longer,” she tells him.
Bill raises his hand and ushers Matteo away. “Don’t worry, Father. I’ll make sure she gets home safely.”
“Thank you for the lovely night,” he says to the room, reaching for his coat. “I assume I’ll see everyone at Mass?”
“Of course,” Clara says, standing up to hug him. “You can’t keep us away.”
Matteo stiffens in her arms, and I nearly blackout with guilt. Clara’s hugging him. It’s so… twisted and sick and mortifying. Matteo must think the same thing because he quickly steps back, clearing his throat again before rushing out the door.
I also go to excuse myself, feeling slightly overwhelmed with this entire night, until Marcy speaks up. “Oh, he forgot his leftovers. Theo, will you catch up and give them to him?”
If looks could kill, I think Marcy would be six feet under.
I can’t exactly say no, however, so I take the leftovers and walk toward the door, pausing only to put my coat on. Once outside, I debate just tossing the tin into the garbage, but something in me pushes my feet to a jog to catch up with Matteo down the street.
“Matteo!”
He spins around in a rush, eyes wide and cheeks red from the cold. He smiles, that breathtaking one I’m so used to seeing, but quickly schools his features. “Theo. What’s wrong?”
I shove the tin in his hands. “You forgot this.”
“Oh,” he mutters, appearing disappointed for a brief second. “Thank you.”
This should be the moment we walk away from each other, but neither of us does. The tension between us is both uncomfortable and electrifying. I have no idea what’s going to happen, and the anticipation has me opening my mouth and blurting out the truth I’ve tried to keep hidden. “Do you think about me?”
Matteo gasps, jaw hanging slack as he shakes his head. “Theo, you should go home.”
“But do you think about me?” I press for some unknown reason. It’s like I can’t help myself.
“I…” He curses under his breath, at war with himself, his eyes glistening as he looks up. “All the time, precioso .”
I’ve missed hearing him call me that. My own little nickname. The secret between us—the one that’s pure and innocent. “I think about you too,” I admit, biting down on my bottom lip. “I… I think about that day.”
His jaw clenches but not out of anger. “Do you touch yourself, Theo? Do you get wet for me?”
I nod, feeling my body swaying closer to his. “I don’t want to.”
“But you can’t help it,” he starts, closing the remaining distance between us. Our lips hover over each other, never touching, with the fog of the cold cut by our hot breaths. “Tell me you can’t help it.”
“I can’t,” I breathe, my voice coming out as a whine. “Can you?”
I need this not to be one-sided. If I’m going to Hell for the thoughts I’m having, I need him to be dragged down with me too.
“I fuck my fist thinking about you, precioso .” He drags his teeth over his bottom lip, brushing his nose against mine. “Every day.”
“Let’s be friends,” I beg. “Just be friends.”
He shakes his head. “Can’t. Not with you. Not without wanting to slide down your cock and ride you until you scream my name. Not when I’m so close to breaking all the vows for just one kiss.”
We can do one kiss. It’ll be a goodbye kiss. Just one more. One more time, one more second, one more moment. I lean forward to do exactly that, but he pulls away before my lips can graze his.
“No,” he whispers, remorse in his eyes. “You’re married.”
Then reality comes crashing down. For fuck’s sake, why do I lose myself like this around him? How could I forget everything else in his presence? My family is waiting for me, and all I can think of is having Matteo touch me and kiss me and…
I’ve wondered what it would be like to get fucked by you.
“Matteo,” I start, not reaching for him the way I want to. “Why is this happening?”
He growls, jaw clenching as he bites down on his fist. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
He’s right. I’m just torturing the two of us. I need to stop. “Goodbye, Father.”
I spin on my heels, ready to head home, hoping the cold weather calms the heat coursing through my blood, but his voice stops me.
“You should come to the church retreat,” he calls from behind me. “I… you should come.”
That confession lingers with me more than all the others we’ve shared tonight, and I walk back into the house with a smile on my face, but that quickly disappears when my sweet wife takes my hand and kisses my cheek.
I wish I wasn’t so torn. I wish I could just forget him.
But that’s seeming more and more impossible every day.