Chapter 30
NICOLO
Of all the things, the first thing collected from the shipping container sitting in the driveway is the coffee machine.
Sebastian is half asleep, hair in disarray, one asscheek exposed where his basketball shorts have slipped, opening and shutting cabinet doors after having plugged the coffee pot in and added water to the reservoir.
I watch him from my place on the mattress, hand over my mouth trying not to laugh. He wasn’t a morning person when he was a teenager either. I vividly remember him stumbling out of bed like a zombie, slinking down the stairs and into the kitchen with a scowl even as he ruffled my hair in greeting, making a beeline for the coffee machine.
It’s kind of nice to know after all this time, despite how much each of us has changed, how much our lives have changed since those early childhood years, some things haven’t changed at all. His need for coffee first thing in the morning is one of those things.
“Coffee’s in the pantry,” I finally tell him, since I’m pretty sure that’s what he’s desperately searching for. He grunts and waves over his shoulder in thanks before yanking the door open, slipping inside and coming out with a familiar red can clenched to his chest like it’s a key to survival. For him, it probably is.
I’m not sure if I should mention now or after the pot is brewed that the cups are still waiting to be found, washed and put away. Either way, he’s not going to be slurping down his hot bitter bean water as soon as he thinks. I actually feel a little bad for him.
“Want any help?” I push the blanket off my lap and rise to my knees. My lower back is a little sore, and my hole a lot tender, but the pain the morning after losing my virginity isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
Probably because Sebastian was really thorough last night when he was getting me ready to take him. More so than he needed to be but I’m never going to stop him from eating me out. Not when he’s so damn good at it.
“Don’t get up,” Sebastian says, voice rough with sleep, from his place beside the coffee machine. His arms are crossed over his chest, hip resting against the counter, and he’s watching the slow drip of dark liquid with a furrowed brow.
I sink back onto the mattress, happy to spend more time in bed before we have to get to work. Unpacking won’t be fun but it’ll be nice to settle into our new house, turn it into a home for us.
The coffee finishes brewing about two cups worth, and Sebastian grabs the pot—the whole thing—adds creamer from the fridge, and comes back to the bed. Despite flopping down beside me before leaning into my shoulder like I have a chance in hell of keeping him upright, he doesn’t spill a drop.
“Here.” He presses the pot into my hands.
I blink down at it before looking up at him. “You made me coffee?”
Not that I need this much coffee. Does anyone? Him, maybe.
He presses his face into my throat. “Us, actually. But I can wait a minute.”
I’m not as lost without coffee as Sebastian but I still sip on the hot liquid, careful not to spill it on myself, before passing it to him. We pass the pot back and forth as sunlight slowly creeps across the living room floor. By the time the pot is empty, Sebastian’s ability to function like a fully realized adult is much improved.
“Better?” I ask as he sits the empty pot beside the bed and wraps his arm around my waist. I lean into him, soaking in his warmth and the moment.
Sebastian rests his cheek on my head. “Better. How are you feeling?”
I roll my shoulders and shift around. “A little sore but not too bad. I can still help today. We can bring the furniture in first, and then if you bring the boxes in, I’ll start unpacking them and putting things away.”
Neither of us moves for a long moment, but eventually Sebastian sighs and crawls out of bed. He puts the coffee pot away after rinsing it out and we get dressed before starting to unload the shipping container. Fortunately, he doesn’t have a lot; it really doesn’t take long to drag everything inside.
Around noon, I’m in the kitchen making sandwiches for lunch when there’s a knock on the door. Sebastian pauses in mounting the television on the wall, his eyes flicking from the door to me. I swallow and wipe my hands on a napkin.
I doubt it’s Simon and Burke. For one, they would’ve called ahead.
Who else could it possibly be though? We haven’t been here long enough to meet anyone, and no one from our old life should be able to find us. What if Vincent had eyes on me the whole time after I left home, and those eyes followed us here? Would Simon or Burke have noticed if we were being followed?
“Nicolo—” Sebastian says just as a friendly feminine voice calls out, “Hello?”
I blow out a breath. “It’s probably a neighbor, right? Maybe we live in one of those neighborhoods.”
I can’t say I’m eager to meet my neighbors, certainly not any Nosy Nancys, but if this is the kind of neighborhood where everyone is up in everyone’s business we’ll stick out like sore thumbs if we’re standoffish and impolite.
“Probably.” Sebastian brushes himself down before combing his fingers through his hair. Neither of us looks fit to receive guests, but what can we do? We don’t want to make enemies of our neighbors on day one. “Ready for this?”
I take his hand as he tugs me towards the entrance.
A woman is headed back down the walkway when we open the door.
“Hello,” Sebastian calls out; she spins around, a covered plate in hand. “Sorry. We were in the back when we heard you.”
“Oh. No worries.” She waves and comes back our way. “I’m Abby. Or, well, my name is Abigail but everyone calls me Abby. I’m just dropping off brownies and welcoming you to the neighborhood.” She extends the plate and I glance at Sebastian before taking it.
“Thank you, Abby. I’m Sebastian. This is my husband, Nicolo.”
I suck in a sharp breath and glance his way as Sebastian slips his arm around my midsection and pulls me against his side. A smile is playing on his mouth, as if he didn’t just do what should be impossible. Claim me as his husband. And he did it with no hesitation, no second guessing. Just straight out with it, not caring if this woman is homophobic or not.
“It’s nice to meet you both. If you’d like, we’re having a cookout this weekend at the Patel’s.” She points to a house across and four doors down from our own. The lawn is well kept and overflowing with late summer, early fall flowers. “You’re more than welcome to join. Bring whatever you like or nothing at all. Amani and Ibrahim are going to be doing traditional Indian food.”
“That’s so nice of you to invite us,” I tell her. What fresh hell have we dropped in where perfect strangers invite perfect strangers over for dinner?
She tsks. “Think nothing of it. We all take turns hosting dinner in the summer. With fall coming there are only a few more to go so take advantage of the free food and get to know everyone while you can.” She starts to back away. “I’ll let you get back to unpacking but I hope to see you around.”
We watch her leave before Sebastian steps back and pulls me into the house. I shut the door and look up at him, not really sure what just happened, but he’s already reaching for the plate in my hands.
This is it, I realize. Today is the first day of our lives. It looks nothing like what I thought my life would look like ten years ago, even six months ago, and for that I’m so grateful because I’m here with my big brother.
“Sebastian,” I say.
He pauses in pulling the aluminum foil off the brownies. “Hmm?”
“I love you.”
He grins, the smile taking over his face as he wraps his arm around my midsection. He pulls me against his solid chest with one hand while lifting the plate out of my hand with the other. “I love you too.” He brushes a chaste kiss across my mouth before stepping back, taking the plate with him. “But I’m probably not going to share these with you.”
I laugh. “You will.”
“What makes you so sure?”
I tuck my hands into my pockets and rock back on my heels. The answer should be obvious, but I don’t mind reminding him. I’ll spend the rest of our lives doing it if I need to.
“Because you’re a good big brother. Duh.”
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