Page 39 of The Summer You Were Mine

Despite the cost, Cris was absolutely positive he’d made the right choice in renting an SUV to pick up his brothers.

The thought of cramming all of the combined twelve and a half feet of the Conte twins into the Ovenwagen and trying not to sweat out every last electrolyte all the way back to Chiavari was absolutely horrifying.

Instead, he cruised along the autostrada in a sleek, quiet Renault with the air conditioning cranked up to maximum.

He tried to rehearse what he was going to tell his brothers, but his brain had other ideas and kept rerouting directly to images of Ellie’s mouth.

Just as he would remind himself of why it was so important that he talk to the twins as soon as possible, his thoughts would slide right into recalling how soft Ellie’s lips were and how she tasted.

Thankfully, his brothers’ energy level normally hovered around “nuclear,” and he didn’t have much space for wayward thoughts as soon as he picked them up from the airport.

“We are guest-hosting a New Year’s Eve party at Hakkasan in Vegas, we got invited to one of the private lofts at Superdome in New Orleans for the Super Bowl, and dude—you’re not going to believe this—” said Ale Jr.

Leo cut his brother off. “When Teena told us, we didn’t believe it.” The twins were already deep into their typical tag-team style of conversation that made Cris wonder what either of them would do if they had to say an entire sentence without the other as a spotter.

“We didn’t. We thought it was a joke.”

“But then we got another email—”

“From the office of Donatella Versace herself.”

“And then we knew it was real.”

“Dude. We’re going to present at the Grammys!” Ale said, turning to face Cris for effect. “In Versace suits!”

“He’s very into fashion this year,” added Leo.

“You are so coming. We already told them to make three of whatever they’re making,” said Ale, looking Cris up and down. “Except, maybe, like, in a bigger size than we thought.”

“That’s awesome. And the rest of the team is cool with the attention?” Cris couldn’t imagine a pack of surly water polo players being thrilled about extra cameras in their faces.

“We don’t allow cameras in the training center. We don’t mix the show with work, you know?”

“We’re discreet,” Leo agreed.

“I can see that,” said Cris, glancing back in the rearview mirror at Leo wearing a fluorescent yellow T-shirt and matching track pants.

“It will be easier for you since you’re not competing anymore. You can let the crew into your life since you won’t have any boundaries,” said Ale.

“Which is so much easier,” added Leo.

“About that,” said Cris, attempting to edge his way around the conversation about his diminishing boundaries being a benefit.

“Don’t worry about the, uh…” said Ale.

“The stuff they are saying about you,” continued Leo.

“No one believes it.”

“Even if they did, they won’t remember after seeing you on the show for a while.”

“Wait, but—” Cris interjected. He suddenly appreciated how his mother used to sometimes physically plant herself between them to get their attention when they were younger.

“We already told Ani that it was an off-limits topic,” said Ale.

“You talked about me with Ani?” Cris couldn’t believe he was already being discussed as a plot point with Ani Kasparian, the producer of Double Shot .

“Yeah, of course. We want this to be a good thing for you,” said Ale.

“Like it has been for us,” said Leo.

“Look, guys. We have to talk about this.”

“Totally. We figured we could do a quick meeting with Ani while we’re here,” said Ale.

“And Teena. She said she was talking to you about how to spin the whole thing anyway, so we’ll use whatever story you cook up,” said Leo.

“I’m not using any story. There’s not going to be any cooking or spinning or whatever else.”

“Yeah, man, see? We knew you’d be a pro at this. Truth, brother!”

“Wait, hang on,” Cris said, pulling both of his hands off the steering wheel like he was trying to stop traffic, then clamping them back down again.

“Guys, listen. I need you to understand something. I really appreciate what you’re trying to do for me.

I know you really want me to do this show, and it’s an incredible opportunity. ”

“You did so much for us,” Leo said. “Remember? You drove us to practice—”

“And made sure we studied,” said Ale.

“You had to study or you’d be cut from the team,” said Cris.

“Okay, well, you were the one who told us about sex.”

“No, I told you that if Mom figured out how to monitor the browsing history on the computers in your room, she would shut off internet access until you were old enough to vote.”

“Same thing. You were there for us. We know it,” said Ale.

“We know you stepped up for us after Dad died. We want to step up for you.”

Cris took a deep breath. “I know. I know how lucky I am. But it’s not what I want. I have a different idea about what I want to do in the next part of my life and the show is not part of it.”

“Yeah, we actually had a feeling you might say that,” said Leo.

“We’re not going to be able to change your mind, are we?” Ale asked.

“Not likely. I’ve got a few things already in motion for my future, plus I have a plan to talk about what happened in the past. I am not running away from the issue, but when it’s done, so am I.”

Ale and Leo looked at each other.

“Is this the thing about Games Over ?” Leo asked. “She’s here, right?”

“How is Ellie? We heard about her show getting canceled. Autogrill!” Ale said, his attention caught by a sign on the highway. “Let’s stop! I’m starving.”

“Those sandwiches! Holy shit, it’s been forever since we had one of those!” Leo grinned in the rearview.

“It’s not canceled. She’s taking a break.

You’ll see her later if you want to ask her about it,” Cris said, pulling off the autostrada and into the parking lot of the Autogrill rest area.

Autogrill was the king of road food in Italy, a country with more highway rest stops per kilometer than any other in Europe.

Most Italians believed that needing to eat a sandwich at an Autogrill meant you’d failed to manage some crucial aspect of your schedule for the day, but tourists typically took one look at the gigantic panini made with crusty bread and stuffed with speck , prosciutto crudo , fontina cheese, or fresh mozzarella and thought they hit the culinary jackpot.

Cris wouldn’t think of doing anything at an Autogrill other than peeing.

For the twins who left Italy when they were four and were decidedly more American than Italian, Autogrill still held charm.

“You don’t want anything?” Leo turned to ask Cris before paying for two panini, a bag of black-olive taralli biscuits, a three-foot-long roll of Ringo sandwich cookies, two bottles of San Pellegrino, and a package of Pocket Coffee, the famous espresso-filled chocolates that packed a thirty-milligram punch of caffeine to keep drivers awake.

“I’m good,” Cris said, heading outside to one of the picnic tables under a metal awning.

Ale followed with a tray containing half of the haul.

Cris eyed the tray, wondering how many dietitians at the training center would go into convulsions just looking at what these two monsters were about to eat.

“I’m only going to eat half of this,” said Ale.

“Sure.”

“Okay, so go back. We were about to get into the Ellie conversation,” Leo said, dropping his tray next to Ale’s.

“There’s not much to tell,” Cris lied. “Her show can give me the chance to set the record straight, and I have a story that can help her prove she’s still the best at what she does.

We’re old friends who both need something the other one has and realized this would be a mutually beneficial situation. ”

Ale and Leo looked at each other, then back at Cris. Ale sputtered and shook his head, then took a massive bite of his sandwich.

“What?”

“You expect us to think that’s all there is to this story?” asked Leo.

“Start talking,” said Ale around a mouthful of bread.

Cris told them everything he knew about what the press had been saying about him, including the pieces that Teena had passed along.

At first, he was talking fast to divert them away from curiosity about Ellie, but the more he shared, the deeper he got.

He told them about how he’d purposely avoided the press and how he knew now that had been a mistake.

He ran through the breakup with Violet, the guilt he felt about not accepting their show, and even how being in Chiavari had brought back so many memories of their dad.

“I wish you guys had had at least as much time with him as I did,” he said, clearing his throat of the lump that had settled there.

Even the twins stopped eating cookies long enough for their faces to go red.

Ale turned his face down and away from his brothers.

Cris looked around and began to laugh, even though his eyes burned.

What kind of a family had a serious conversation in the parking lot of an Autogrill?

When he finally told them that he was going to become an EMT as a first step in a career in medicine, Leo didn’t believe him.

“I’m not saying you can’t do it,” he said. “I just can’t picture it.”

“I can’t, either,” Cris said, scratching the paper label off Ale’s bottle of San Pellegrino.

“That’s the problem. I never thought of doing anything else but swimming.

I never thought I could do anything else.

I started to realize that, after a certain point, I wasn’t swimming because I loved it.

I kept going because I thought it was all I had. ”

“You can’t possibly think that,” said Leo.

“I don’t anymore. I know I am more than just a waterlogged kid with good genes.”

“Although they are the best genes.” Ale grinned.

“I’ll give you that,” Cris laughed. “And I know I don’t have to ask anyone for permission to do what I really want to do, even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone but me.”

“Look, we are really going to miss having you with us—” said Leo.

“You’re gonna miss out on so much fun,” said Ale, still chewing.

“But you have to do what’s right for you, even if we don’t get it yet,” Leo continued.

“Yeah, man. We still love you. I can’t believe someone would voluntarily go back to school, but that’s another story.”

“Especially after the life you’ve had. Holy shit, this would be an awesome reality show!”

“You know what, guys?” Cris grabbed a cookie from the roll. “Not a freaking chance,” he said, popping the whole thing in his mouth.