Chapter 28
twenty-eight
. . .
Marco
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, yanking me out of a blissful post-coital doze. I groaned and rolled over, burying my face in Meghan’s hair. “Make it stop,” I mumbled. “It’s too early for this shit.”
Wick chuckled from Meghan’s other side. “It’s noon, lazy ass.”
I flipped him off without opening my eyes. “Exactly. Too fucking early.”
Meghan stirred, reaching across my body to grab my phone. “It’s your mom,” she said, frowning at the display. Suddenly, there was a heavy sinking sensation in my stomach.
Shit.
In all the life-altering chaos of the past few days, I hadn’t even thought about how to break the news of my resignation from Rossi Media to my mother. She was going to be pissed.
“Don’t answer it,” Wick said, his arm tightening around Meghan’s waist as he pulled her back against his chest. “She can leave a message.”
I shot him a look, my lips twitching despite the knot of apprehension in my gut. “You don’t know my mother. She’ll just keep calling until I pick up.” I silently counted to ten and swiped to accept the call. “Hey, Mom.”
“Marco, caro mio, where have you been?” My mother’s voice rang out, the familiar cadence of her Italian accent wrapping around me like a warm hug. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning!”
“Sorry, Mom, it’s been a crazy couple of days.” I ran a hand through my disheveled hair with a wry laugh. “What’s up?”
“Well, your father and I were hoping you could join us for dinner tonight,” she said, her tone suspiciously light and breezy. “We have some things we need to discuss as a family.”
Cold dread seeped into my veins. There was no way this was just a casual family dinner. My father must have already told her about my resignation. She was calling to mediate one of their infamous “family meetings” where I would inevitably be put on trial and found guilty of being a constant disappointment.
“Marco? Are you still there, amore?”
I shook myself. “Yeah, Mom, I’m here. Dinner sounds...great.”
“Wonderful! Say around seven? I’ll make your favorite.”
I smiled weakly, my chest going warm and tight. “Sounds perfect, Mom. I’ll see you then.”
“Ciao, amore. I can’t wait.”
The line went dead, leaving me staring at the phone with a growing sense of trepidation. On one hand, I needed to face my parents and break the news of my plans to start my own agency. But the thought of walking into that lion’s den alone made my gut churn with a mix of dread and shame I hadn’t felt since I was a scrawny, insecure teenager desperate for their approval.
“Everything okay?” Meghan asked .
I looked up to find her watching me with those beautiful, endlessly caring blue eyes. In that moment, I was struck by a simple truth—I didn’t have to do this alone, not anymore. I had Meghan, and Wick, two incredible people who loved and supported me unconditionally. That thought gave me the strength to face anything, even my parents’ wrath.
“You know what? Everything’s great. In fact...” I paused, my gaze sliding over to where Wick lay sprawled on his back, all tousled hair and golden skin and lean muscle. “How would you two feel about joining me for a little family dinner tonight?”
Wick’s eyes widened comically. “You want us to meet your parents? Like, officially?”
I shrugged, attempting a nonchalant grin. “May as well rip off the band-aid, right?”
Meghan bit her lip. “Marco, are you sure that’s a good idea? Your parents don’t exactly seem like the open-minded, modern type.”
“You’re probably right,” I said. “My father will almost certainly have a nuclear meltdown. But for once in my life, I don’t give a fuck.” I leaned in, cupping the back of Meghan’s neck to pull her into a scorching kiss. “You two are the best things that have ever happened to me, and I have no intention of hiding you.”
Wick considered me for a moment before nodding slowly. “I’m in.”
“Me too,” Meghan said, her voice soft but resolute.
A grin split my face as the anxiety in my gut eased. “Good. Because I’m pretty sure I’m going to need all the backup I can get.”
The Rossi family home loomed before us, all imposing stone and wrought-iron gates. I pulled my Audi into the circular driveway, my palms slippery with sweat on the steering wheel.
Meghan reached over from the passenger seat, her hand finding mine and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Breathe, baby. It’s going to be okay.”
I nodded jerkily. Wick leaned forward from the backseat, his hand warm and solid on my shoulder, and pressed a kiss to my temple. I took a deep breath, letting their strength and love wash over me.
We climbed out of the car and I led the way up the front steps, forcing myself to take deep, calming breaths. This place had been the site of so many of my childhood nightmares, the battleground where my parents waged their endless war over the direction of my life. Where I had been forced to make impossible choices, to please one at the expense of disappointing the other. Tonight would be no different, I was sure—only this time, I refused to back down.
The heavy oak door swung open before I could even knock and there stood my mother in all her regal beauty. Her dark hair was swept up in an elegant twist, her slim figure draped in one of her signature silk caftans. A delicate gold chain glinted at her throat, the ruby-studded pendant my father had gifted her on their twentieth anniversary dangling just above the deep vee of her neckline.
“Marco, amore!” She enveloped me in her arms, and I was blanketed by the familiar scent of her rose perfume. “It’s so good to see you.” She pulled back, her warm brown eyes sparkling with affection—and a hint of curiosity as she took in my companions. “And who are your lovely friends?”
“Mom, I’d like you to meet Meghan Price and Wick Friedman.”
“Well, this is certainly a surprise!” She laughed, the sound light and melodic, like a peal of bells. “But a most welcome one. Any friend of my Marco’s is a friend of mine.” She stepped forward and pulled first Meghan, then Wick into warm embraces, kissing each of their cheeks. “Come, come inside!” My mother looped her arm through mine, leading us through the foyer and into the spacious great room. “Dinner is almost ready.”
I shot Wick and Meghan a look over my shoulder, my lips quirking in a half-grin at their stunned expressions. That was one hurdle cleared, at least. Now for the hard part—facing my father.
Wick
The antique wooden chair creaked under my weight as I tried to find a comfortable position at the Rossi’s oversized dining room table. The damn thing belonged in a medieval castle, not a suburban Columbus home.
I glanced at Meghan beside me, her spine ramrod straight as she smiled politely at Marco’s father, Antonio, who sat at the head of the table. On my other side, Marco looked like he was facing a firing squad. His jaw was clenched so tight I could practically hear his teeth grinding.
This whole dog and pony show had been his idea—a way to present a united front to his family about his decision to leave Rossi Media and strike out on his own. And about our relationship. Two birds, one awkward as fuck stone. I still wasn’t sure it was the best plan. But he’d been insistent, and Meghan had given me those big blue puppy dog eyes, and well...here we were. The sacrifices I made for love.
“So, Marco,” Antonio said, swirling his glass of Chianti. “You want to tell us what this is all about? Why we’re being treated to the presence of your...friends?” His gaze flicked over Meghan and me, his lips twisting like he’d eaten something sour. I had to fight the urge to reach over and punch him in his smug face.
Marco took a deep breath, his hand finding mine under the table and squeezing. “Dad, I wanted you to meet Meghan and Wick because they’re important to me. We’re...we’re together. The three of us.”
Silence. Then Clare, Marco’s mother, let out a little gasp, her hand fluttering to her chest. “Together? What on earth do you mean?”
I saw the gears turning in her head as she tried to process the idea of her precious baby boy in a polyamorous relationship. With another man, no less. The horror.
“I mean we’re dating. Exclusively,” Marco said, his voice steady despite the way his fingers trembled against mine. “I love them, Mom. Both of them.”
Antonio scoffed, setting down his wine glass with a thunk. “Is this why you quit your job? To run off and play house with your little friends? I thought I raised you better than that, Marco. ”
Hot anger surged in my chest. Where the hell did he get off, talking to Marco like that? As if what we had was some sort of phase, a childish game?
“With all due respect, sir,” I said, my voice tight. “Marco didn’t quit his job for us. He did it for himself, because he wasn’t happy there. Because he has a vision for his life that doesn’t involve being under your thumb for the next thirty years.”
Antonio narrowed his eyes at me like he was trying to set me on fire with his mind. “I don’t believe I asked for your opinion, Mr. Friedman.”
“Wick, please,” Meghan placed a calming hand on my arm. “Let’s just...take a breath, okay?”
I wanted to argue, to tell her that I wasn’t about to sit here and let Marco’s dickhead father insult him—insult us. But the pleading look in her eyes stopped me. She was right. Losing my cool wouldn’t help the situation. If anything, it would just prove Antonio’s point that we were nothing but a bunch of impulsive kids.
I exhaled slowly through my nose, forcing my shoulders to relax. “Look, Antonio. I get it. This isn’t what you wanted for Marco. Hell, it’s not what any of us planned. But we’re not asking for your permission or your blessing. We’re just asking for your respect. For you to trust that your son knows what—and who—he wants.”
Clare worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “But what will people think? Our friends, our business associates? You have to consider your reputation, Marco. All of your reputations.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. A short, sharp sound that made Clare flinch. “Seriously? That’s what you’re worried about? What a bunch of stuffy old bigots will say about your son’s love life? ”
Meghan shot me a warning look, but I was on a roll now. “You sure are hung up on appearances. On fitting into some bullshit mold of what a ‘respectable’ family looks like.”
Antonio’s face was turning an alarming shade of purple, but I didn’t care. I was done tiptoeing around, done playing nice. “Here’s the thing—Marco doesn’t give a damn about his ‘reputation.’ He cares about being happy, about being true to himself. And if you can’t handle that, if you can’t accept him for who he is and who he loves, that’s your loss.”
The room went dead silent, the only sound the faint ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the corner. I held Antonio’s gaze, refusing to apologize for speaking my mind.
After an eternity, Marco cleared his throat. “Dad, Mom, Wick’s right. I know this is a lot to take in, and I’m not asking you to throw a parade or anything. But Meghan and Wick, they’re my family now, too. And I need you to respect that, even if you don’t understand it.”
Clare’s eyes were shiny with tears, but she nodded convulsively. “Of course, sweetheart. We just want you to be happy.”
Antonio’s jaw was working like he was physically biting back all the things he wanted to say. But he didn’t argue. I suppose that was progress, in its own twisted way.
The rest of the meal passed in strained silence, broken only by the clink of silverware on china and the occasional stilted attempt at small talk. By the time we said our goodbyes and piled into the car to head back to Meghan’s place, I was wound tighter than a spring, my nerves raw and frayed.
We didn’t speak during the drive, but as soon as the door to the penthouse closed behind us, Meghan let out a shaky breath. “Well. That was...intense.”
Marco said nothing, just collapsed onto the couch and tipped his head back, staring blankly at the ceiling. He looked so defeated, so drained. I wanted to go to him, to pull him into my arms and make it all better. But it wasn’t that simple.
Meghan sat down beside him, taking his hand in both of hers. “Marco, honey, are you okay?”
He smiled thinly. “Oh, I’m just peachy. My parents think I’m throwing my life away to be a degenerate sex fiend, but other than that...”
I winced at the bitterness in his voice. “Hey. Don’t do that. Don’t let them get in your head.”
Marco rolled his head to the side to look at me, his eyes hollow. “Easy for you to say. They’re not your parents.”
I sighed, perching on the edge of the coffee table so I could face him fully. “You’re right. They’re not. But Marco, you stood up to them tonight. You were honest about who you are and what you want. That takes fucking guts.”
Meghan nodded, squeezing his hand. “Wick’s right. I know it wasn’t easy, facing their judgment. But you did it anyway, because you knew it was important. Because you knew we were worth it.”
Marco’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes suspiciously shiny. “I hate feeling like I’m disappointing them. Like I’m some sort of fuck-up who can’t get his shit together.”
“Hey. Look at me.” I waited until his gaze met mine, holding it steady. “You are not a fuck-up. You’re one of the strongest, bravest people I know. And if your parents can’t see that, can’t appreciate how amazing you are, that’s on them, not you.”
A single tear slipped down Marco’s cheek, and I brushed it away with my thumb. His eyes fluttered closed. “I’m so fucking grateful to have you two in my life.”
Meghan made a soft, choked sound, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight. I joined them on the couch, wrapping my arms around them both and holding on like I’d never let go. And in that moment, I knew I wouldn’t. Come hell or high water, this was my family now. I’d be damned if I let anyone tear us apart.