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He’d gotten a front row seat to Andrew balancing the work he was doing with Daniel at Nonna’s but also finding and outfitting the space for his new bakery.

He’d found a space just off the main street in St. Helena, a little old-fashioned and he’d leaned into the nostalgia of it.

Curly letters the color of old gold coins adorned the big picture window and a smaller version on the leaded glass of the refinished front door.

“What do you think?” Andrew asked, coming up next to Marco and tipping his head against Marco’s shoulder. He sounded tired, but exhilarated.

Marco remembered exactly what that felt like. When he’d opened the steakhouse, he’d been exhausted but so revved up he’d felt like he could go and go and never quit.

Good thing he was around for Andrew, because someone needed to drag him home, to their bed.

“I think it looks incredible. Like the place you’d always envisioned.”

One late night during the summer, only a few weeks after they’d gotten together, they’d taken a bath together, and Andrew had confessed that everyone was expecting him to build some kind of very high-end, esoteric kind of bakery. But that wasn’t what he wanted.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but your very pedestrian desserts inspired me,” Andrew had teased.

Marco had splashed him but Andrew had only grinned. “I mean it. I walk around the dining room sometimes, and the smiles on everyone’s faces? The pure delight and joy? It’s wonderful. Nobody’s ever worried about how to eat something or what’s in it. It’s just really delicious food. That’s what I want to serve.”

“Well, you’ve got it in the bag then,” Marco had said and Andrew had laughed and splashed him again. They’d ended up making out in the tub, water running over the side, and Marco hadn’t even minded cleaning it up later.

“Yeah, it really does,” Andrew agreed. “Exactly like what I wanted. I know that’s not always how things turn out, so I’m gonna take this win.”

“You all ready to open this weekend?” Marco asked, even though he knew the truth. Andrew had been ready a week ago.

“Yep, we’re all set now. Permits are in. Roger’s in the back, inventorying for tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait to see how this town embraces you,” Marco said earnestly. And it was true. He wanted everyone to see the brilliant, amazing,lovableman Andrew was. The one he’d fallen so hard for.

“You think they will?” Andrew sounded nervous, not for the first time, because frankly, starting a new business wasalwaysnerve-wracking and anxiety-inducing, but it was the first time in probably a month that he’d talked about it.

“Iknowthey will,” Marco said. “Just like I did.”

And hehad.

After that first night together, Andrew hadn’t told him he loved him again, but it was there, in every glance, in every tease, in every kiss. In how hard he’d worked to make sure Daniel had a great foundation to become the head pastry chef in Marco’s restaurant.

Marco hadn’t said it yet, either, even though he was pretty damn sure he loved Andrew. Had been sure for awhile now.

But Andrew bringing up how many times Marcohaddone this—fallen in love and enjoyed someone before ultimately it ended—made Marco want to besurethat this was forever before he said the words.

Because once he said them, they were always going to be true.

It was why he’d waited.

Until now.

“Thank you,” Andrew murmured. “For everything.”

“I didn’t do much,” Marco said. He’d wanted to do more. But he’d forced himself to wait for Andrew to ask—a few times he’d intervened but he’d tried not to the overbearing, all-knowing ass that he knew ran in the Moretti genes. Thank you, Luca.

“You did the perfect amount.” Andrew sighed happily as he stared out at the bakery, and Marco looked down at him. Loving him, so much that he knew he’d nevernotfeel this way.

“There’s one last thing I can do,” Marco said. “The most important thing.”

Andrew looked over at him, blue eyes glowing in the morning sunshine. “What’s that?”

“No matter what happens, I’m gonna be proud of you every single day for the rest of our lives. And every single one of those days? I’m gonna love you too.”

Andrew blinked, then his eyes went misty. “Oh, damnit, I said I wasn’t going to cry but then I am andugh, of course you’re a romantic. Of course you saved it for the most romantic moment.”

“I just told you I loved you, I think any time would’ve been romantic,” Marco said, grinning.

“But it wasespeciallyromantic. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s just like a Moretti.”

“YourMoretti,” Marco said.

“The Moretti I love,” Andrew said.