Chapter 11
On Sunday morning, Rocco reluctantly left Taylor’s warm bed and left a note next to Taylor’s unconscious form and slipped home, grabbing a quick shower before heading downstairs to get the morning’s baking started.
He’d hated to leave Taylor but the sheer joy he felt overrode any disappointment and by the time Rebecca walked in at eight, he was still smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.
When he got a text an hour later—a selfie from Taylor, shirtless, his face adorably scrunched up with disappointment—his smile only grew.
“Aw,” Rebecca said, pinching his flushed cheeks, “you’re adorable. And in love.”
Rocco didn’t know if he wanted to be in love.
He and Taylor were so newly on this different path of this might be something more than just a fake relationship we’re playing at. What would really dating look like?
If it’s anything like last night, really fucking good, Rocco’s subconscious supplied.
“It’s a crush for sure,” Rocco admitted.
A strong one.
He ignored Rebecca’s knowing wink when Taylor popped in just after noon, a smile on his face that equaled or maybe even exceeded Rocco’s, carrying a takeout bag from The Snowflake Shack.
Rocco made them a pair of marzipan lattes, and they shared sandwiches at the corner table, knees knocking together and feet brushing up against each other, before Rocco totally let Taylor lure him upstairs.
His mouth tasted like almond and Taylor, and Rocco didn’t complain one bit as Taylor pushed him up against the door and then went to his knees.
On Monday, an enormous poinsettia arrangement arrived at the shop, just when Mrs. Lil was there, grabbing her favorite pumpkin spice latte, and she oohed and ahhhed over the flowers.
Rocco knew the news would be all over Christmas Falls by sunset and decided he didn’t mind. They’d wanted everyone to know when their relationship was all fake, and now that it had morphed into something true, why wouldn’t the same apply?
At four, when Taylor stopped by, ostensibly to grab a coffee, but really, Rocco was beginning to figure out, to take full, glorious advantage of the fact that he had a bed upstairs, he decided he should say something. Make sure Taylor knew what he was getting into.
Sure, Taylor had lived here for four years, but maybe he’d lost his mind, right alongside Rocco.
Lying on Taylor’s naked chest, his fingertips sweeping up and down Rocco’s bare back, he said, “The flowers were gorgeous. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Rocco could hear the smirk in Taylor’s voice. “And here I thought you already thanked me.”
The way Rocco had blown him this afternoon—slow and wet and deep—had had nothing to do with the flower delivery and they both knew that, but Rocco still smiled against Taylor’s skin. “Mrs. Lil was here when they showed up.”
“Ah, so the prodigal daughter returns,” Taylor teased, but Rocco could hear the deep pleasure in his voice, and he knew it was all for him.
“Yep,” Rocco said. He knew he should keep going and say, so if you were wanting to keep this under wraps, it’s not gonna happen. And by the way, what are we doing here?
Rocco’s heart thought it knew the answer, but his brain was working overtime, worrying that maybe he didn’t.
But before he could figure out how to phrase the question less bluntly, Taylor’s phone dinged, and he disentangled himself, rolling over with a groan.
“Shit, I gotta go,” he mumbled.
Rocco stared at the ceiling, the bubble of happiness inside him too solid to burst, even if the questions peppering it threatened its integrity.
“Sorry,” Taylor added, with a little bit of a wince as he slid out of bed. “I wanted to stay, but Mona wants to meet last-minute with Harvey about something.”
“No worries.” Rocco shifted his focus to where Taylor was pulling on his work clothes. “Watching you get re-dressed is almost as fun as undressing you.”
Taylor flushed. “Maybe one of these days I can make it twenty-four hours before I have to have you again.”
Rocco smiled. “Ditto. But it’s alright. Rebecca only gives me a little bit of shit about holding down the fort during our ‘community development meetings.’”
“Is that what you told her we’re doing?” Taylor laughed as punctuation.
Rocco groaned a little, sliding out of bed and sorting through the clothes on the ground, looking for his briefs.
“She knows the truth. I think the pretense is more for me than for her,” Rocco said.
“We’re friends but not good enough friends for me to say, by the way, I really need Taylor’s dick. Like right fucking now.”
Taylor straight up cackled as he finished buttoning his shirt. “I was pretty sure the flowers were a pretty obvious example of that.”
Rocco had thought so too—but he’d also thought they were a statement that also said more, like I was thinking about you and I hoped you were thinking about me, too.
And maybe Taylor had meant that, but ugh, Rocco thought as he headed downstairs, lips still flushed from the last deep kiss Taylor had given him before he’d left, why hadn’t he said so?
Nothing stopping you from asking. Rocco ignored this voice that sounded too much like his cousin Luca for comfort.
Because yes, that was true.
But Rocco was so goddamned happy. Every moment with Taylor pure perfection that he was increasingly worried about bursting that bubble.
On Wednesday, he took the afternoon, after Taylor had texted that he couldn’t make it over—there’d been another emergency, this one about the upcoming holiday lights tour that required his intervention—to test the almond cookie recipe that Rocco was sure had been Teresa Hall’s.
He wanted to surprise Taylor with them. A personal gift that he hoped might express how much he was feeling these days, maybe without actually saying the words.
Say the goddamn words, Moretti. This voice sounded suspiciously like Oliver’s, and Rocco wanted to ignore it, like he’d ignored all the others, but it was becoming harder and harder.
Especially when Wednesday evening, as he was just coming back from Rudolph’s after eating a chicken salad wrap for a quick dinner, Rocco saw Taylor leaning against the closed and locked door at Jolly Java.
“Wondered where you’d gotten to,” Taylor said, greeting him with a warm arm wrapping around his middle, tugging him close enough to kiss.
Rocco tilted his head back and pressed his lips to Taylor’s. Taylor didn’t hesitate, just leaned right into the kiss. It got intense fast, Taylor groaning in the back of his throat as his arm tightened around Rocco.
“You could’ve texted.” Rocco was breathless when they finally broke apart, his fingers trembling as he pulled his keys from his pocket.
“I didn’t mind waiting for you. Knew you’d be back sooner rather than later. And maybe,” Taylor added with a grin that made Rocco’s heartbeat accelerate even further, “I was hoping to surprise you.”
“You accomplished your goal,” Rocco admitted. He unlocked the door and Taylor followed him up the stairs. He’d considered grabbing a decaf cappuccino when it had been just him, but the almond cookies were cooling on the kitchen counters downstairs, and he still wanted to preserve his surprise.
Taylor nuzzled into his neck as he unlocked the door to his apartment, at the top of the stairs. “Missed you this afternoon,” he murmured into Rocco’s skin.
Rocco’s heart skipped another beat, and he swore it tumbled right out of his chest and into Taylor’s waiting hands.
Okay, maybe Rebecca wasn’t wrong, after all.
Rocco had had crushes before. Rocco had been positive he’d been in love before, too, but it had sure never felt like this.
Like he’d die if he didn’t get skin-to-skin with Taylor as soon as possible.
Taylor seemed to be on the same page, because he was already pushing Rocco’s jacket off and tugging up his sweater.
“God,” he groaned after they kissed again. “You smell so good. Like sugar. Like cookies. Like fucking magic.”
Taylor smelled like pine and fresh air. Like he’d spent all afternoon outside, doing the wrangling that he was so good at. And from how cold his nose and cheeks were, against his newly exposed warm skin, it seemed like he probably had.
Rocco pulled back. Trying to find the brakes, even though he didn’t know if he actually wanted to slow down.
“So do you,” he murmured, reaching up and cupping Taylor’s cheek, slightly rough with the scruff that had grown in since the morning. “I missed you, too.”
Taylor seemed to get that he wanted to slow things down and flopped down onto the couch, his jacket and shoes off, digging his socked toes into the rug.
Rocco settled down next to him. “Did you get the light tour all figured out?”
Taylor sighed. “Yeah. Mostly. It’s like wrangling a whole bunch of naughty cats.”
“Aren’t all cats naughty?” Rocco wound his hands around Taylor’s shoulders and his neck. Maybe he’d wanted to take a breath, but he also didn’t want to stop touching Taylor either. His heart craved him, worse than any drug. Worse even than his highly developed caffeine addiction.
“I’m going to tell Meredith you said that,” Taylor teased, leaning in again, cold nose brushing against Rocco’s neck. “And you know, she likes you.”
She hadn’t been sure of him, at first. The first time he’d spent the night—the first night they’d slept together—she’d eyed him suspiciously.
But then two days ago, he’d woken up with a mouthful of fur and a single disdainful eye as she’d given him a look like how dare you jostle me from my chosen throne?
“I like her, too. Her and her owner.” It was the most Rocco could say without confessing everything, without letting himself word-vomit out, Actually, it’s so much worse than that. I think I’m in love with you. Please be in love with me, too.
“Like you, too. I thought I’d go nuts this afternoon.” Taylor’s voice was hushed. Intimate. “Every time I leave, I think, I can go twelve hours without kissing you, and I can’t. I’m—”