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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

NICO

This was not the dinner I imagined.

Copy, or maybe it’d been Paste, had said that it would be a disaster, and they’d jinxed me because this was going to shit fast. I thought heating a Costco meal would be simple enough. The instructions were right there on the package, but somehow, I had managed to overheat it, so I’d taken it out to the driveway so it wouldn’t make my house smell like smoke. At this point, the only thing the fam would eat tonight was the tray of cookies from the bakery Ma would bring. Copy and Paste were going to make jokes for days.

“I’m almost afraid to ask what happened.” Ugh. It seemed unfair that the universe kept allowing this man to see me at my worst.

“I’m supposed to be cooking dinner for my family tonight, but I fucked that up.”

“Language,” Babbo said absently. “What were you trying to make? Did we make that rule?”

“One of those pre-packaged meals, but then I went to check on something, and when I came back, it was smoking and burning. I had to get it outside before the whole place went down in flames. How hard can it be to open a package and heat it up? Apparently, pretty damn hard. And no.”

“Hey, come on, don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s not the end of the world. Do you have something else in the house you could cook? How many people are we talking about? When will they be here?” And then he added, “I think we should add one.”

“No. Six, including me. Thirty minutes. Let’s add it on another night because I think I’m gonna cuss a lot tonight.” I tossed some pebbles that had been kicked up onto the sidewalk. I wanted to dump my burned container somewhere over a fence, but I doubted any of the neighbors would appreciate that. I’d been defeated and pizza delivery was my future.

“Fair point. But, hey, we can fix this. I’ve got food in my house. I can grab it, and it’ll be about ready when they get here.” Babbo raised my chin and forced me to look at him. He kissed my cheek, and I felt better. I hated that it made me feel better, but I refused to examine that right now. I needed to focus on not humiliating myself in front of Copy and Paste. They always had shit to say.

“Are you sure we can make it in time?”

“Yes, because we’re making spaghetti Pomodoro, which is a fancy way of saying tomatoes. I’ve got some diced ones in a can that’ll work fine when we doctor it with fresh basil and garlic. There’s also some French bread in there, and we’ll slice, wrap it in foil, and stick it in the oven. It’ll be crusty and hot by the time they get here. Easy-peasy.”

“Lemon squeezy?” Rather than answer, Babbo stood up from where he’d been crouched next to me and pulled me right behind him.

“Yep, lemon squeezy.” Babbo looked at the scorched pan. If it could be salvaged, it would take a lot of scrubbing. “Do you love this pan?”

“I got it at the thrift store the week I moved in, so no strong feelings one way or the other about it.”

“Perfect. We are going to leave it in my kitchen. We’ll put some water in it and figure out if it can be salvaged later. We’ll get everything we need from my place and then prep it at yours so everything will be ready when they arrive. Once everything is set up, I will make myself scarce, and you can bask in the glory. Good with you?”

“Deal.” The urge to grab him was too strong to resist and I threw myself into Babbo’s arms. He caught me with an oof, and I covered his face with kisses. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” Babbo just laughed at my silliness, grabbed the pan off the ground, and headed back toward his house.

My dinner and my pride were saved.

* * *

“All right, Sweet Boy, we have twenty-five minutes left. You slice and butter the bread, and I’ll get everything ready for the pasta.” Babbo shooed me off to my small kitchen table to finish the bread slicing while he started chopping basil and crushing garlic. The state of my kitchen was a little embarrassing, but I didn’t have time to worry about it. I made a note to myself to get aluminum foil and some canned stuff the next time I went to the store.

“Not that I’m complaining, but do you think they’ll be able to tell it’s canned tomatoes?”

“I’m sure they’ll be too busy being wowed you cooked them dinner to wonder whether it’s canned. Besides, if that’s your biggest worry when someone serves you, maybe you should stay home and feed yourself.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

I giggled to myself at the emphatic tone in Babbo’s voice. This was a me issue. My parents couldn’t care less what I cooked for them. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of my brothers and prove, once again, that I couldn’t do anything as well as they did. Naturally, they were both excellent cooks.

The space-time continuum was out of whack tonight because when I first glanced at the clock, we still had twenty-three minutes. When I looked again, it was down to fifteen, which didn’t make sense because we had only been working in the kitchen for two. I stepped away from the kitchen long enough to move some mess from my living room to my bedroom. Fingers crossed, we could finish everything before… Oh dear god, they were on the porch. I didn’t even get past my bedroom door before Levi opened the front door to them. Ma stood transfixed in the doorway, staring at Babbo. This was bad.

“Have I got the wrong house?” she asked confused.

My dad bumped into her, knocking her forward into the house, and Nonna followed him. Copy and Paste were two steps behind. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Uh, guys, you’re a little bit early.” No one responded to me. They kept staring at Babbo. He smiled serenely at them. His apparent lack of concern or urgency to leave baffled me. Since no one was moving or speaking, I went silent too.

“Hi, you must be Nico’s family. I’m Levi.” Babbo put out his hand to Ma and then my dad. Copy and Paste gave him a head nod, which he acknowledged with one of his own. He’d never been hotter than when he was taking my family in stride like it was no big deal.

Ma turned to me and asked, “Isn’t your landlord named Levi?”

“Funny story, this is my landlord.” Everyone looked at me like I was supposed to say the funny part, but I didn’t know what to add.

“Yes, I’m Nico’s landlord, but we’re also friends. I popped over to say hello when I got home from work and then we got to talking.” I looked in panic at the half-made dinner on my kitchen counter. I didn’t even know what to do at this point, and my worried gaze collided with Babbo’s serene one. “Nico, since it’s my fault dinner is late, you go enjoy your family, and I’ll finish up in here.”

“Yeah, uh, sounds good.”

With Babbo’s encouraging nod, I ushered my family into the living room area of the house. My parents took spots on the couch with Nonna anchoring the end. Copy took the chair, and Paste flopped on the ground.

“Honey, I’m really surprised you’re cooking. I thought you’d go buy something from the store,” Ma said with a knowing grin. I wasn’t fooling her in the least. Grrr.

“I said I would cook dinner, and I did.” Ha! If by cooking, I meant burning.

“Did you really? Seems like your friend is doing most of the cooking,” Paste offered from the floor. My eyes narrowed, and I turned so our parents couldn’t see the two-handed, single-finger salute.

“So this is what it’s like to have brothers,” Babbo chuckled from the kitchen.

“Are you an only child, or do you have sisters?” Ma asked. “We always wanted a girl, but I’m not sad about our boys.”

“No brothers or sisters, just me and my mom now.”

“Does she live close?”

“Over in Yakima. I get out there about once a month or so. I keep telling her she needs to move closer, but she says that’s where she’s from, so that’s where she’s staying.”

“Would you ever move back yourself?”

“Not very likely. I like where I live.”

“Sweetheart, is that your boyfriend?” Nonna asked in her perpetually sing-song voice. When I was a kid, I thought she was a princess because of that voice. She’d always say she was PopPop’s princess, which made him a prince.

“Who are you asking?” Copy asked.

“Nico, of course. I know he’s not yours.” For some inexplicable reason, that left him looking dejected.

“No, Nonna, Levi’s my landlord, not my boyfriend.”

“Well, I never had a landlord who cooked my family dinner. It seems like something a boyfriend would do.”

Babbo refused to save me and just smirked while putting the last ingredients together for the dish I was supposed to be making. My mother glanced between us, trying to figure out if we were just good friends or something more. Truthfully, I wasn’t even sure anymore.

Being around him just felt good. He listened—really listened—like what I said mattered to him. He fucked me like he meant it. He was thoughtful in ways that caught me off guard. But did any of that make him my boyfriend? I simultaneously wanted him to stay and leave like I couldn’t decide if I was reaching for him or pushing him away. And I had no clue how to put any of it into words that would make sense to anyone.

“It looks like my chopping here is done, so I’m going to leave you to your dinner.”

Ma immediately spoke up. “You’re not leaving. You should join us for dinner.”

“I don’t want to intrude on a family dinner.”

“It’ll be tight, but we can make room. There’s always room for one more,” Nonna added.

Babbo surreptitiously beckoned me over to him and whispered, “Are you okay if I stay, or do you want me to bail? I’m good either way.”

This was the first time anyone I’d had any kind of anything with had ever met my family. I sifted through all my emotions, looking for a clue to help unravel my jumbled thoughts, but only one separated itself from the noise inside my head.

I wanted him to stay.

“Yeah, I’d like it if you would stay.”

Babbo gave me a quick squeeze of my fingers and knocked into me with a pop of his hip. “Thanks. I’m starving tonight,” he answered with an added wink that made me blush.

From the direction of the living room, I heard the distinctive sounds of a snicker, but I refused to give them the satisfaction of acknowledging it.

Until this evening, I hadn’t realized my Nonna was such a flirt. She insisted Babbo sit next to her at the kitchen table. Every once in a while, she would touch his hand and whisper conspiratorially in his ear. She’d glance at me, Babbo would follow suit, and they’d giggle and do it again. If being the butt of their joke meant she enjoyed herself this much, then Babbo had a permanent invitation.

The rest of the dinner passed without incident, mostly because my brothers managed to behave themselves. Ma asked Levi personal questions about his practice—blessedly, nothing too intrusive—and Dad kept fairly quiet. Turned out he and Levi were both hockey fans, so they talked about the local teams, college and professional, and I was more than happy to let them carry the conversation.

When it was time to clean up, Levi insisted on helping with that too. He moved like a general, giving orders to my brothers, to me—hell, even to Ma—and what shocked me most was that they actually listened. No whining, no backtalk. If I’d been the one telling them what to do, they would’ve made a production out of it, but with Levi? They just got to work. It was a nice change from the shit they—well, my brothers anyway—gave me all the time.

As we were finishing up, Ma pulled me aside and quietly told me to invite Levi to dinner the next time I came. I gave a quick nod but didn’t commit either way. It was one thing for him to be here tonight. Having him at my parents’ house was a different thing. This casual thing was becoming decidedly uncasual too damn fast.