Chapter Thirteen
Rocco woke to his alarm blaring, and for a second, he didn’t know where he was, disoriented in the dark, only the embers from a banked fire giving him enough light to see.
They were still on the couch, cuddled up together, even though it was barely large enough for one.
He and Taylor had landed back here after they’d shared a late dinner of delivery pizza, and they must have eventually fallen asleep here.
“Shit,” Taylor groaned underneath him.
“I gotta get up and get to the coffee shop,” Rocco reminded him. “Sorry, I’ll try not to—”
But Taylor put a hand on his arm. Squeezing it firmly. “Remember,” he slurred, voice soft with sleep, “I said I’d come with you. I don’t want to let you out of my sight. Not yet.”
Rocco’s heart twinged. Maybe they hadn’t said the words last night, but they’d been there, in every breath he’d taken. Surely it wouldn’t feel like this if he was in love alone. Taylor had to be right there with him.
And then there was all that incredibly romantic stuff he said—like what he’d just said, without batting an eye—that made Rocco’s heart practically melt right out of his chest.
“Alright, well, we gotta get going.”
“Okay,” Taylor said with a groan. “Let me get up, feed Meredith, and I’ll throw some clothes on.”
Rocco pulled on the jeans and sweater he’d worn last night, and a few minutes later, they were out the door, walking through the frosty cold dawn towards Jolly Java.
“I can’t believe you do this all the time,” Taylor said after Rocco had unlocked the door. But he didn’t sound judgmental or incredulous, but awed.
Rocco flipped everything on but the open sign—lights, ovens, and most importantly, the espresso machine.
He was going to need a lot of coffee to make it through this day.
“It’s not easy getting up so early, but after a few years doing it, I’m used to it now. Same way I got used to late nights when I worked for my parents.”
Taylor yawned. “You’re a wonder and a marvel, Moretti.”
Rocco grinned at him. “That’s what all the cute boys say.”
“You gonna fix us some coffee and then show me some of your magic?” Taylor asked, and as Rocco passed by on the way to the espresso machine, now fully warmed up, he caught him around the waist and tugged him in, Rocco leaning in between his long legs.
“I thought I showed you plenty of magic last night,” Rocco teased and leaned in for what he’d imagined in his head would be a quick kiss before he was on his way.
But the moment their mouths met, he didn’t want to move.
He just wanted to sink into Taylor’s warmth, into the feeling of his arms wrapped around him, so secure and safe, and stay.
You should really say something.
Rocco nibbled at Taylor’s bottom lip and then swallowing his groan, pulled back.
“I . . .this is really good,” he said.
Not that.
Taylor nodded, expression serious. “Really, really good,” he agreed.
Stop talking in fucking circles.
“I . . .” Just do it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy with someone. Not . . .not like this.”
Taylor nodded again. Still looking so freaking solemn. Maybe if he smiled, Rocco could find the little bit of additional courage he needed to say the three words echoing in his heart.
“I definitely wasn’t looking for this, but I found it,” Taylor said. And there it was, that smile. The one that made Rocco’s heart plain fucking sing with joy. “Found you.”
Rocco opened his mouth and before he could say, Yes, yes, yes, me too. I love you, too, a sound broke through his consciousness.
A loud sound. Like someone knocking—no, pounding—insistently on the door.
His front door.
Then they were yelling. Crowing, actually.
Rocco squeezed his eyes shut and hoped when he opened them he would not see the same glimpse he’d gotten right before closing them: a whole passel of Morettis, leaning against his front window, catcalling and pounding on the door, wanting to be let in for coffee and hugs and well .
. .since they were Morettis, to hear all the hot gossip.
Namely: who Rocco had been making out with only a moment ago.
“What is that?” Taylor asked, mystified.
Rocco opened his eyes. Grimaced, even as he was happy. He hadn’t expected to see his family for Christmas—any of them, in fact—but unless his eyes were deceiving him, a lot of them were right here, in Christmas Falls.
Unexpectedly.
“Please don’t freak out, but I think . . .” Rocco took a deep breath and disentangled himself, though they’d already gotten an eyeful. “I think that’s my whole family. Surprising me. For Christmas.”
Taylor’s eyes grew big. Huge, really.
“Your whole family?”
Rocco nodded. The pounding increased. He was fairly sure that was either Gabe or Ren, maybe even Enzo, whooping, now.
“Oh—”
But Rocco needed to get this out first. “They’re a little bit loud and maybe a touch insane, but they honestly mean well. However, they’re a lot to deal with, regardless, and if you want to escape out the back door before I let them in . . .”
Taylor’s back straightened and he shot Rocco a look that meant business. Rocco liked to think of it as his “future mayor of Christmas Falls” look.
“As if I would ever be that cowardly. If I feel this way about you—” Taylor smiled knowingly, like he was acknowledging they’d just been on the cusp of confessing their feelings before they were interrupted.
“Then I can meet your family. Then I want to meet your family, no matter how wild or crazy they might be.”
“And that,” Rocco said, the words falling out of his mouth without forethought or panic, “is exactly why I love you.” He leaned in and kissed Taylor’s cheek briefly, enjoying the pleased surprise on his face. “I know, but don’t say it yet, okay? We’ll talk, later, I hope.”
“Yes,” Taylor said, nodding firmly. “A lot. And more.”
“Talking and more than talking are both good,” Rocco said, babbling a little. Was he procrastinating letting the Morettis in? Oh, a little.
The thumping grew even louder.
“I think you’d better let them in before they break down the door,” Taylor said. “I’ll stay here. And when the initial cacophony has finished, you can introduce me.”
“You’re thinking they won’t want to meet you the very first thing, and you’re wrong. You’re all they’re going to want to talk about.” A boyfriend that he hadn’t told a single Moretti about. They were all going to be salivating.
“No,” Taylor said, squeezing his hand. “They’re here for you, Rocco.”
They were. Rocco realized they’d all come. Dropped their own holiday plans to fly to Christmas Falls and see him.
His heart felt so warm, so full, he thought it might burst.
“Go on, then,” Taylor said, squeezing his hand one last time.
Rocco went. Unlocked the door with trembling hands and then opened it a fraction, bracing it against his foot.
“Good morning, who are you?” he teased.
Gabe, who was in the front, stuck his tongue out. “Some surprise this was!” he exclaimed, elbowing their cousin and his business partner, Lorenzo, who held out his hands in welcome.
“Rocco! It’s so good to see you. Also, it’s freezing. Let us in!”
There was Luca, too, and Oliver, standing in the back of the group with Enzo and his boyfriend, Will.
And his parents, smiling at him like he hadn’t seen them in forever, and maybe it did feel that way, now that Rocco considered it.
It had been a long six months since he’d seen them, right before he’d flown to Christmas Falls to finalize the purchase of Jolly Java.
And Luca and Gabe’s mom and dad, Nicoletta and Matteo, were rubbing their hands together, clearly cold in the chilly early morning.
“Come on, come in,” Rocco said, widening the door.
And suddenly, he was caught up in a blast of cold air and a mob of excited, loving Morettis.
He lost track of how many tight hugs he was given—and gave back—and how many pairs of cold fingers were pressed to his cheeks and how many people exclaimed that he looked too skinny, that he needed some meat on his bones, did Rocco need them to bake him a lasagna?
But mostly, everyone wanted to know 1) how he was doing and 2) who the really cute, tall guy behind the counter was.
“Uh, yes,” Rocco said, gazing over the crowd of Morettis surrounding him to meet Taylor’s amused gaze. “This is my boyfriend, Taylor. It’s new so—”
Someone—it might have been Nicoletta, or maybe even Giana—let out an excited screech, but before the stampede towards Taylor could begin, Luca held up a hand and bellowed in that I’m Italian and I will take no prisoners voice.
“Not everyone, not at once! Let Rocco introduce him to his parents, and the rest of us can go sit down. You’ll get plenty of chance to talk to Rocco’s boyfriend.
” Luca turned to Rocco. “Sorry, I told them they didn’t need to all come, and so early, too, before you even opened, but I got out-voted. ”
Rocco shrugged. “Of course you did. But uh . . .thanks. And I do have some work I need to get done before we open. A few things that need baked—”
Oliver popped up next to his husband. “Did I hear my favorite word?” he asked mischievously.
Luca rolled his eyes. “You did. And it was naive of me to think we’d actually get a vacation coming here. You’ll be in Rocco’s kitchen the whole time and I’ll be wrangling almost twenty Morettis.”
“Almost twenty?” Rocco exclaimed.
“Everyone wanted to come and see you, darling,” his mom said, greeting him again, with a big firm kiss against his cheek. “Now, introduce me and your father to your very cute boyfriend before he runs away.”
“He’s made of stronger stuff than that,” Rocco said, even though he was a little afraid of how terrifying this might be for Taylor. Taylor who only had his dad . . .who apparently was not coming for Christmas. Or if he was, Taylor had certainly not said so.
But then, Rocco hadn’t expected his parents—or a whole van-full of his relatives—for Christmas either.