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“Hey,” Andrew said. “Imagine seeing you here.” He pulled the door open and Marco, feeling safe in the knowledge that in just over twenty-four hours, they would be free and clear—maybe not to make out in the walk-in, but at least to stare gooily at each other all they wanted—followed him.

“I talked to Dario. We’re all set.”

“You mean, you’reset to fire me?” Andrew gazed up at him like this was the greatest thing ever.

“Tomorrow night,” Marco said, nodding. “And I thought tomorrow night, after service . . .” He hadn’t come up with concrete plans, other thaninvite Andrew to something, somewhere, preferably somewhere you can finally be alone together.

“Yes,” Andrew said. “Yes to whatever you were going to ask.AndI was thinking, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“I think I’ve eaten more dessert in the last week than I have in the last six months,” Marco said, patting his stomach. “I’m gonna have to be careful.”

Andrew flashed him a knowing smile. “Oh, I think we can figure out a way to work it off.”

Marco’s mouth went dry, and he was suddenly very,veryglad that tomorrow night, he wouldn’t have to rely on his self-control any longer.

It was strong, but his desire for Andrew was even stronger.

“I just want you to know,” Marco said, because it was important he knew this, “if you’d wanted to go the whole time you were here just . . .uh . . .being friends, then I’d have been okay with that. It would have been okay.”

“Yeah?” Andrew’s gaze turned soft. “Just when I think you’re nearly perfect, you say something like that. AndGod, I remember?—”

“Remember what?” Marco didn’t touch him, but he wanted to. He clenched his fist.

“Remember what it felt like when I wanted you so goddamn bad and I couldn’t have you.”

Marco grinned fiercely. “But you can now. Soon.”

“Soon,” Andrew agreed.

“What are you looking for in here?” Marco asked. Changing the subject was probably smarter, because he could still remember the way Andrew had tasted last night, and he wanted more.

“Who says I wasn’t looking for you?” Andrew’s voice was teasing.

Marco raised an eyebrow.

“Fair. I was thinking about working on a new special.”

Marco’s eyebrow skidded higher. “Think you’ve got an in now with the head chef, you can do whatever the fuck you want?”

Andrew laughed. “Something like that.” Reached up and to Marco’s surprise, he pressed a warm kiss to his cheek. “I got this, alright?”

Marco had a feeling he wanted whatever this “special” was to be a surprise—hadn’t the last one been, too?—so he nodded and, giving Andrew one last lingering look, exited the walk-in.

ChapterEight

Night Six

Marco had been afraid that service would pass by, on this last day of Andrew’s official employment at Nonna’s, like a snail crawling.

Instead, it felt like he could barely take a breath.

Jose called out sick, sounding genuinely awful, and Marco spent most of the evening on the line, in a much closer supervisory role like the one Jose usually held.

Then they ran out of veal.

Then Marco had to duck into the back prep kitchen and whip up a new batch of marinara.

He didn’t really have time to stick his head into the pastry kitchen, even though it was right next to the prep kitchen, but he did it anyway.