Chapter 11 #2
“No, you have a lot of good to bring to the table. It’s her own bankruptcy if she doesn’t want to listen,” Gabe said. “You can be a real asshole, but that’s mostly because you’re usually right, and honestly, that’s obnoxious.”
Luca didn’t know if he was supposed to apologize for that. Wasn’t being right most of the time a good thing? “Sorry?”
Gabe sighed. “You just never let anyone forget it, that’s all. Still, she should be arguing less and listening more. You know what you’re talking about.”
“Thanks.” Luca didn’t know what else to say. None of this was news to him, but his family—especially Gabe—certainly never said it.
They all, it felt like, resented him for the skill and the hard work he’d put in.
Maybe because he’d gotten a little too familiar with throwing it in their faces.
“I’ll let you know what Dad says,” Gabe said.
“Alright. Just text me, unless it’s a major emergency,” Luca said.
“Should I send positive thoughts to Marco right now?” Gabe teased, but it was sweeter, friendlier than usual.
Luca rolled his eyes. “Marco is going to be just fine. He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.”
“Yeah, he can. Alright, I gotta go, will let you know what Dad says.”
“Good. Thanks.” Luca felt that surge of awkwardness again. He knew what he wanted to say to his little brother. I love you and I miss you. But he didn’t, because this had to be enough, at least for now.
Rome, after all, wasn’t built in a day.
Or in a single phone call.
But he hung up with Gabe feeling better about their relationship than he had in years. Since before Gabe had run away with Ren to Los Angeles, for sure.
During the call, Chiara had sent over some plans. Luca browsed through them, nodding in approval.
She had such good instincts, and they were, he was sure, totally wasted, running that coffee shop. But he was also sure if he told her that—or kept telling her that—she was going to clam up and eventually hate him. Just like Gabe had.
Luca sighed.
He sent a quick text to Marco, which just said Call me.
Then he sent a little longer one to Oliver, even though he was in his meeting and probably wouldn’t see until after.
Talked to my brother Gabe tonight. Maybe he won’t actually hate me forever.
To his surprise, Oliver texted back right away. I have a feeling nobody could ever hate you forever.
He was staring at the screen, trying to decide how to respond when Marco called.
“What,” he barked into Luca’s ear. “I’m busy.”
“It’s Dad’s right to dodge my texts,” Luca said, “but you know better. You going to tell me what’s going on?”
“What’s going on is you’re not here and we’re all having to work more, work harder. That’s all.” Marco could be brusque—they often took chunks out of each other—but they also understood each other.
And Luca knew he was bullshitting him.
“Don’t lie to me,” Luca said.
“Oh, so you are here and we don’t have to work too hard?”
“No, I’m saying I know shit is going down there, and you’re not telling me, and it’s making me fucking antsy.”
“You’ve got your hands full with Giana,” he said gruffly after a long silence.
“Yes, but somehow that doesn’t make me less capable of handling things back home.”
“We’ve got it,” Marco said stubbornly. “I’m not saying it’s easy but you know how you are, always bailing our asses out. Maybe it should be us doing it for you, once in a while.”
“Now you’re just talking crazy,” Luca said dryly.
“Dad said you’d say that,” Marco said, confirming that this enforced silence was a plan. They’d shut him out on purpose. His temper surged.
“I can feel you silently raging over there,” Marco continued, chuckling under his breath. “That’s always when we should get scared. If you’re yelling, we’re probably all safe.”
“Probably,” Luca said through clenched teeth. “For the last fucking time, tell me what’s going on, or I’m gonna come back.” Don’t make me come back, not yet, not quite yet . . .
“You won’t,” Marco said, which was annoying, because he was right.
He’d come out here to help Giana and he was going to stick to that. The one exception was if he saw a serious dip in the restaurants’ income, and he hadn’t. It was still steady, the numbers just as expected for this time of year.
Luca grunted under his breath.
“Don’t be mad,” Marco said, his voice gentling. “We mean well.”
“You didn’t think I’d freak out? No word for days?”
“You’re getting the nightly take, you know things are fine.”
“Yes, but—”
“Always a but with you, Luca,” Marco said, chuckling.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.” Luca could hear the echo of his own certainty in his brother’s voice.
“Fine, fine, keep your secrets,” Luca said.
“What’s this about some guy you’re seeing there?”
“What.” Luca heard the flat panic in his own voice. “What guy?” But of course there was only one guy he could be talking about.
Fucking Gabriel.
“Gabe texted me, he thinks you’re like . . .unbending over this guy.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Unfortunately, though, he sort of did. That was the worst part of it.
“I don’t know,” Marco said thoughtfully, “I was expecting a lot more yelling just now. Maybe you are shifting down a little. Would that be so bad?”
“You know the answer to that.” He didn’t answer it on purpose. Was he more relaxed here in Indigo Bay? When he was around Oliver? He was. He couldn’t deny that. But it wasn’t a permanent change. The moment he was back in Napa, things would go back to normal. He knew they would. Knew they had to.
It wasn’t that he was incapable of change; he was, like any other person.
But change meant he might be less capable of overseeing the family. Less capable of handling the stuff they needed him to handle. And neither of those options was acceptable.
“I think it would be nice. Human-like Luca.” Marco hummed under his breath. “So you gonna tell me about this guy?”
“Gabe is the worst.”
“That is something I’m not gonna argue with you about,” Marco said, chuckling. “But he’s clearly onto something.”
“He’s a guy who owns the bakery here. I’m having him bake Giana’s bread.”
“And?”
“How do you know there’s an and,” Luca insisted.
“Because you don’t want to talk about him, and if there wasn’t anything, you’d say so, straight out, no bullshit.”
It was annoying how well Marco knew him.
“Fine, fine, we’ve been on a few dates. He’s . . .well, he’s nice.”
“Nice?” Marco sounded strangled. “You’re dating someone who’s nice? Not a clone of yourself, for once?”
“Yes,” Luca said, because he couldn’t deny that either. He did tend to gravitate toward men like himself. Busy men, arrogant men, men who put their business above anything else.
The thing was, it wasn’t like Oliver didn’t do that, too. He did. His bakery was well-established, successful, and he worked damn hard to make sure it continued. But none of that seemed to harden him. He was still kind and sweet, and bent.
“Huh. Well, I’m glad for you.”
“It’s . . .” Luca swallowed hard. “It isn’t anything, really.” It can’t be anything.
“It would be okay if it was,” Marco said. “You know that.”
“Not when my place is back in California.”
“Hey, aren’t we handling shit here? We are. Nobody’s come running to you in over a week. I think that’s a new record.”
It was.
But that didn’t mean the current situation was a long-term solution.
“I’m very proud of you,” Luca said dryly.
“You should be. Hey, I gotta go,” Marco said. “Supplier’s here. Gotta yell at him about the veal.”
“I thought . . .” Marco had said it wouldn’t be an issue. Luca had checked with him and he’d insisted it wasn’t an issue.
Luca hadn’t realized he’d meant that he’d take care of it, because it was definitely an issue.
“Yeah, exactly,” Marco said with satisfaction. “Let me handle it.”
Luca hesitated. Should he? Could he? But then Marco hung up before he could argue.
Luca was still baffled when he set his phone down.
Perplexed too, at how this had even happened. And . . .gratified . . .that it had.
Even if it wasn’t forever, it was still a break—and Luca would take it.
Oliver debated for only about two seconds before deciding it wasn’t too late to swing by the Inn and see Luca.
He wouldn’t have considered it, because even though they’d spent several evenings together, he knew how this was going to end and he’d need to live without Luca in the future, but then Luca had texted him.
Just because he could.
Like he was thinking of him, too.
And Oliver hadn’t been able to resist.
Let’s be honest, you didn’t even try that hard.
He snuck up the back stairs, avoiding the common areas his mother might be lurking in. It wasn’t like she didn’t know he was spending time with Luca, but if she knew how much, she’d have something to say about it. A warning, probably.
A warning he didn’t really need, because he’d already memorized his own.
Oliver knocked on the door, holding his breath a little, because maybe Luca wouldn’t want to see him, after all. He wasn’t supposed to be here . . .maybe he’d made a mistake.
But when Luca pulled open the door, an annoyed expression on his face, no doubt at being bothered, it immediately melted away into a surprised pleasure.
“Oliver!” he exclaimed in a low voice. “Is everything okay?”
“You mean, did I want to wring the necks of the entire festival committee for the whole duration of the meeting? Absolutely, I did.” Oliver slid inside as Luca held the door open wider, then he closed it behind him.
“That bad, huh?” Luca had his glasses on, because he’d clearly been working, if his open laptop and the scribbled notes on a pad of Inn stationery were any indication. A half-drunk glass of red wine sat on the desk next to his laptop.
“Yes,” Oliver said. “But it’s okay. It’s always like this.”
One of Luca’s dark eyebrows shot up. “And you still volunteer every year?”
“You said it yourself, my family’s the whole festival. How can I say no?” Of course, he’d never tried either, but he could only imagine what would happen if he did.
The confusion.
The disappointment.