Chapter 17 #2
“I don’t know,” Luca said, leaning against the back counter. Wondering also where the rest of the family was lying in wait for him. “Do I need a triple shot?”
“Depends.” Marco flashed him a knowing grin. “You stay up half the night with your new boy?”
Luca thought back to last night, when they’d both been so tired they could barely see straight, Oliver leaning against him at the bathroom counter as they’d brushed their teeth together, side by side.
“No,” Luca said.
“Double it is,” Marco said, heating up the milk.
“So, you gonna tell me anything about how it went while I was gone?”
“I know this is very hard for you to understand, but we managed alright without you,” Marco said. He sprinkled the top of the cup with cinnamon, just the way Luca liked it, then passed it over.
“Alright is not what we do here,” Luca reminded him.
“And yet you’re the one who’s planning to fuck off semipermanently,” Marco retorted mildly, turning around from the machine, his own coffee in his hands.
His brother looked as serious as he usually did, but more tired than normal.
He couldn’t argue with it, he couldn’t deny it, he couldn’t avoid it.
It didn’t feel good to be forced to just accept the unpleasant guilt sweeping through him without even trying to fight against it.
“I get it. I do,” Marco said. He reached out, touched Luca on the shoulder. “Why shouldn’t you do something for you after everything you’ve done for us? And Oliver’s great, really. The kind of guy I always thought you might end up with, if you got out of your own way for long enough.”
“Really?” Luca hadn’t ever imagined Marco might be wondering about his love life—or the complete desert that had been his love life before he’d met Oliver.
“Yeah. Nice. But not so nice he wouldn’t call you on your bullshit,” Marco said. “And he won’t complain about you working too much. Cause he’ll probably be doing the same.”
Luca wasn’t sure what he’d imagined, but it wasn’t this. He’d been sure there’d be more pushback. More frustration. More deeply buried betrayal rising to the surface when it became clear what his plans were.
“Don’t look so surprised,” Marco said. “I always knew you’d fly the coop someday.”
“I’m not flying the coop,” Luca retorted from between clenched teeth.
“Sure you are.” Marco flashed him an unexpected grin. “And it’s okay, you know?”
“You ever going to tell me what happened while I was gone?” Luca asked, changing the subject.
“The normal bullshit, of course. Dad had to jump in on the line a few times. Gabriel’s here, which . . .hell must’ve frozen over, because I could hardly believe it when he showed up here with Ren. Saying he was taking a break from the truck, or that it wasn’t busy.”
“They hired people,” Luca said, because he did know at least that much. “Must be working out well, if they think they could both be here.”
“Huh.” Marco took a sip of coffee. “But really, it was fine. I mean it. Even Dario . . .well . . .” Marco flashed him an apologetic smile. “It turns out he’s more like you than anyone realized?”
“What? Dario?”
“Come on, I’m sure they’re all talking about you anyway,” Marco said, gesturing toward the dining room. “They might as well do it in front of you.”
“Thanks,” Luca said dryly.
Just like Marco had promised, they were all there. Well, mostly. Chiara and Ilaria were still in San Francisco, obviously, but the rest of the family was there.
His parents, sitting in one of the booths, coffee in front of them. Marco, standing next to him. Gabriel and Marcella, at one of the tables. And Dario, rising to greet him.
There was something different about Dario. Had he always had this direct look in his eye? The confident tilt of his jaw? Or was Luca just noticing because he’d been gone for long enough to see the changes?
But then, when his gaze swept over the rest of his family, they all seemed the same.
Gabe had that stupid grin on his face. His mother still looked peaceful, his father alert. Marco, as serious as always, and Marcella, as frantic as ever, despite being twins, ultimately the two opposites of the spectrum.
But Dario reminded him of him. Nicoletta had always told him Dario resembled him the most physically, and Luca had been able to see the seeds of it in his face before he’d left, but now it was like looking into a mirror.
“Hey, welcome back,” Dario said, pulling him into a firm hug.
“I told you,” Marcella said, before he could open his mouth. “I told you he’d see it. He looks like someone just blew his mind with a nuclear bomb.”
“Marcella,” his mother chided quietly.
“Told you we were fine,” Marco said from next to him.
Luca looked back at Dario, who just shrugged. “You were gone, and things needed done,” he said.
“But you’re the—”
“The accountant?” Dario finished for him. Then shrugged again. Like it was no big deal for him to take on more work. “Our systems are mostly automated at this point. I had the time. So I dealt with some stuff.”
“It was more than just some stuff.” It was the first time Matteo had spoken up, but when he did, all his children looked over at him. “He walked through the restaurant, with me, and we greeted the customers together every night. Just like you do, Luca. He’s learning.”
His mother rose from her chair and took his hand in hers, squeezing it. “What we’re trying to say, darling, is that we’re okay. You can go. You can do whatever you want, whatever you need.”
There was a whole group of murmured agreement at her words. “I don’t understand,” he said uncertainly.
“There’s nothing to understand.” Finally Gabriel spoke up. There was something more honest in his gaze than Luca saw in the others. “We got your back. The way you had ours, for so long.”
Luca’s fingers tightened on the cup in his hands. “I’m going to come back, often. Maybe once a month . . .maybe more, if you need me. Whatever you need.”
It felt pathetic to say it now, when they’d all decided they had their new savior in Dario. And where had he come from?
Luca felt a pulse of undeniable guilt—joining the rest of it, swirling around, unsettled, in his stomach—at the memory of describing him to Oliver as just “the accountant,” and then, “the kid.”
Oliver had been right; Dario was not a kid anymore.
“That often?” His mother sounded disappointed. “What does Oliver think of this?”
Like suddenly, her number one priority was Oliver. And honestly, that tracked.
He slumped down into one of the booths behind him. Marco shot him a sympathetic look. Which didn’t exactly go a huge distance to making him feel better.
His family didn’t need him. He was replaceable.
“Here, I thought you’d be happy,” Dario said, sounding disappointed.
Well, kid, that makes two of us.
“I’m not . . .unhappy,” Luca said, testing out the feeling.
He didn’t know what it was. He just knew it tasted bitter on his tongue and swirled unpleasantly around in his stomach, making even Marco’s exceptional coffee nauseating.
“I’m glad you were there for the family.
That was . . .” He didn’t know how to even finish that sentence. “It was really good of you.”
“Thanks,” Dario said shortly. He didn’t look pleased that Luca’s praise hadn’t been more effusive.
But what was he supposed to do? He was still reeling from the fact that his younger brother, who he’d thought had been perfectly happy locked away in his office, had been greeting customers and doing his regular walk-throughs of the dining rooms; from the fact his family was totally okay waving goodbye to his departing figure.
He’d expected some questioning of his decisions, some gnashing of teeth, some fucking wailing about how he was abandoning them for a guy he’d known for less a month. Instead they were all . . .happy for him?
“I think you expected we’d all be lost without you,” Marcella said.
Well . . .yes.
“Marcella, be nice. He’s dealing with a lot of shit right now,” Marco warned his twin.
Marcella rolled her eyes. “He has emotions—he should at least be familiar with them, even if he spent years pretending they didn’t exist.”
He wasn’t happy about Marcella talking about him like he wasn’t even here. Normally, he’d have cut her down with a few well-chosen words, but he just ignored her today.
Why?
Because she was so fucking right.
He should be familiar with what he was feeling right now.
Oliver kept telling him he wasn’t cold, not all the way through, and he wasn’t.
He fucking felt things. Lots of things.
He was feeling right now like all those never-ending years of dedication and sacrifice and hard work were evaporating in a snap of fingers. Why had he worked so goddamn hard if it didn’t matter? If they could just wave goodbye to him like he didn’t matter?
“I didn’t pretend they didn’t exist,” Luca finally said, slowly, glancing at each of his family in turn. Serious Marco. The bedrock of his parents. Snide Marcella. Smiling Gabe. Confused Dario. “I just . . .felt like something was more important than the way I felt.”
“And that is my fault.” Matteo spoke up again, and this time he stood and walked over to where Luca was sitting.
He put both hands on his shoulders. His expression was as serious as Luca had ever seen it.
“I let you handle things, because after Nonna died, I couldn’t.
It hurt to even walk in here, so I let you take care of everything. ”
“It hurt me too,” Luca croaked. He could remember, like they’d been yesterday, those weeks, feeling like a part of him he’d never considered living without had been forcibly carved out of him.
But he’d put one foot in front of the other, because his father and his family and the whole business needed him.