Chapter 29 #2
Look at him, so in his element. Surrounded by this town that adores him.
This town that leaves him be enough to innovate while staying far enough in his business to make him never feel alone.
This town that his grandfather introduced him to but then let him make his own.
This town, where his heart got broken but whose residents were always there waiting to put it back together. It’s his peace. It’s his place.
A better person would think she should’ve stayed away completely, but I’m not a better person. I’m a chef through and through, and we thrive on ego and overconfidence. I’ve always gone after what I wanted. So I didn’t stay away, and I didn’t stop him when he finally kissed me.
But maybe the one thing this town has changed for me is that even if my feelings have snuck up on me, I know I’m not going to push any further.
This isn’t a barrel race where I can dig in harder.
I’ve never been a person who feels peace the way Nico does, but I’m at peace with this.
If I tell him I love him, he wouldn’t be able to do anything with that.
I’m not staying here—I can’t stay here. And he belongs here.
That feeling of needing him is roiling in me again, strange and unusual.
But I take a deep breath and push it aside.
All my years competing have made me uniquely suited to carrying burdens for long stretches of time.
So this will just be my burden to bear. I’ll love him and I’ll pretend to be his friend as long as he needs me to, until maybe one day it can be true again.
I’ve never needed anyone before, and I’ll get back to that soon enough. I can do that.
So I keep the tears from forming, grin back at him, and mouth Good luck.
And when the gun sounds for the first leg of the first race, he’s off, ready to do battle for this town he loves.
I hadn’t realized how stressful it is watching people you care about competing in a race you have no control over. I can’t believe yesterday I’d even deigned to think it was easier being another Cassero person shouting on the sidelines. Because that’s me today, and it’s fucking torture.
Emilia and I stand there, staring at the giant screen in the plaza, obviously unable to help Nico and Antonio when it’s their turn to roll the barrel. We know how hard it is, how much they want it, and yet all we can do is cheer them on.
Maybe this is why my dad always got so overly involved; I can see the temptation. You want to do whatever you can to clear the path, even when the path can only be taken alone.
I’m so nervous I’m about to bite my nails, but I look down and realize how long they are.
Not long by any normal standards (how could anyone use a knife with long nails?), but for chef standards—for me standards—they’re as grown out as they’ve ever been.
Huh. I guess I hadn’t noticed that I’d stopped biting them over the last few weeks.
I put my hands in my pockets, not wanting to mess up whatever streak I’ve unknowingly been on.
But it’s hard to keep them there as soon as the first race starts, because it’s tough to watch.
They actually lose by a hair, but luckily, as the losing team with the best time, they’re able to compete in the semifinals.
Then, with that underdog mentality, they crush the second round to make it into the finals.
And then the finals . . . well, the finals probably take a year off my life.
Imposto is the favorite going in, having had the best times in both their heats.
And it’s neck and neck the entire way. The men’s teams do two laps, so it’s even more to wait for.
Watching on the big screen is jarring because we’re craning our necks to watch a race on what amounts to a jumpy and sometimes out-of-focus camera feed.
Antonio and Nico are the second pair to go, and they start out well—they build up quite a lead right out of the gate.
Until one of the Imposto guys “accidentally” trips Nico.
I’ve gotta say, it’s not great to realize you love a guy and then watch him get knocked down so hard his knees and elbows are raw and bleeding.
A four-second penalty is called on Imposto, and then we all hold our breaths as the last lap gets underway, Cassero slightly behind but knowing they have the four seconds of cushion.
The last two guys really run their hearts out. They catch back up to Imposto and cross the finish line with them, all of us bursting into cheers immediately since we know we don’t even have to wait to see who crossed first because of the penalty.
Nico comes in right behind them, and I can’t help it: I run to him, desperate to get my hands on him and make sure he’s okay. If I had any hesitation, though, Nico instantly quells it by lifting me up and drowning me in a kiss, like he’s been through a battle and I’m his reward.
I hold him tightly, not just because in person I can finally see that he’s all right, but also because I hate the thought that this might be one of the last times I get to be this close to him.
The word “friends” flicks through my mind like a blinking light, a mockery of the entire idea that I could ever be near him and not want to do exactly this.
If anyone notices, they don’t say anything, because within a moment, all the guys on the team have been swept up in the air (although with more than one person needed to carry each of them), and the cheers from Cassero overtake everything.
The trophy ceremony is as over the top as you can imagine, with giant sparklers heating up the already-dry heat of the night as more glitter gets tossed around and horns blare out from every direction.
The men lift the barrel over their heads, and our women’s team is brought up on the stage, an extra celebration for the Cassero victory.
When the ceremony is over, that’s when the real party begins.
I have no idea how I get so drunk, but it seems to be the natural progression of things.
I drink to celebrate, and to live in the moment and take part in all the vivacity surrounding me.
I dance with Emilia and Gia and Marna, who’s finally moved back home and is excited and ready to return to Gia after her maternity leave.
I let Antonio spin me around, and Martina gives me more hugs than I knew she was capable of.
I take every beer anyone hands me and do shots with my teammates, to the cheers of everyone in Cassero.
It’s too much and not enough all at once. It’s abandon that I need.
And when it’s almost time for the sun to come up, I don’t care who’s watching as I drag Nico back to my apartment and make the night stay a little longer.