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Consequences be damned.

For now, though, he focused on the gleaming road ahead of them, enveloped by the comforting weight of Tyler’s head on his shoulder and the simple pleasure of being rocked together in the dark.

Chapter Nine

IN THE Fantana family kitchen, Tyler fussed with the place settings again. His mother’s good china, cloth napkins, candlesticks—nothing needed to be fancy, but he wanted it right.

Mr. Poops meowed and wound between Tyler’s ankles, nearly tripping him again. “Hush, you menace.” Tyler scooped up his marmalade overlord and cuddled him close, breathing in the familiar warmth of his fur. “What if he hates enchiladas? Or Nadia’s snarky matchmaking? Or… this shirt? I still think it’s too tight.”

“Tyler. It’s fine. He doesn’t hate anything.” Nadia was being very patient with him.

A sharp rap rattled the front door, and Tyler’s heart leaped. He put the cat down and caught sight of his own shirt. “Aw, Poops. Now I’m covered in fuzz.” He brushed his chest with his hands and then rolled the sticky lint roller across himself.

Nadia reappeared in the pantry doorway. “Calm down. You’re fine. Promise.” She dragged a big X over her heart with her finger and winked at him. “You look very eligible.”

Tyler consciously forced his shoulders to relax. At least he knew she knew; that would be a help. If it killed him, tonight he was going to tell Josh the truth.

Defuzzed and a little calmer, he followed Mr. Poops into the living room as Nadia opened the door. Josh stood beaming on the threshold, gripping the necks of two wine bottles in one hand and handing Nadia a bouquet of sunflowers with the other.

“You shouldn’t have,” Nadia said, ushering him in.

Josh rolled his eyes. “Your brother is poisoning me for dinner. It’s the least I can do.” His gaze found Tyler’s, and a slow smile bent his mouth. “And it’s good to see you all scrubbed up.”

Heat flushed Tyler’s cheeks. “Are you calling me dirty?”

“Boys, behave.” Nadia plucked the wine and flowers from Josh’s grip. “I’ll put these in water. Tyler, why don’t you take Josh to the living room.”

A squeak from below as Mr. Poops demanded his share of the conversation. Tyler obliged and scooped him up. “This is Mr. Poops. You’ve met him before, I think. If anyone gets poisoned, he did it.”

With Mr. Poops balanced across his shoulder, Tyler showed Josh to the cozy living room, past the hallway gallery of family portraits and school photos and the dogleg den that had been his and Nadia’s playroom as children when his mother was working. Josh’s arm brushed Tyler’s, sending a skitter of sparks across his skin.

“Looking good.” In the kitchen, Josh nodded at Nadia. “You made a bunch of changes.”

“Nadia made some renovations a few years back.” Tyler jerked his chin at the new windows and polished terracotta floors.

“After our mom passed. Just to refresh. You know.” Nadia handed Josh a knife. “Make yourself useful, Joshua. Bell peppers.”

“I can only cook because Tyler keeps trying to teach me.” Josh nudged Tyler’s elbow, his dark blue eyes dancing. “Bossy.”

“Welcome to the Fantana house of horrors,” Tyler said, nudging him back.

“Pure torture.” Josh’s gaze softened, bright with affection.

Tyler’s chest tightened. Tonight, he’d tell Josh the truth. That he was terrified of losing his best friend, but he couldn’t ignore the incendiary chemistry between them. A risk, but one he needed to take. He only hoped Josh wouldn’t get weird if he didn’t feel the same.

Tyler chopped onions and stole glances at Josh, who hummed along to the radio as he worked. The familiarity warmed Tyler, reminded him of cooking with his family before his mom got so sick, talking and teasing each other.

“Earth to Tyler.” Nadia snapped her fingers in front of his face. “You’re not chopping, you’re just staring. Those onions won’t dice themselves.”

Tyler blinked, cheeks heating. “Just thinking.”

“Do tell.” Nadia raised an eyebrow.

Tyler shot her a warning look, but she only laughed.

“We need to get these in the oven or I’m sending you up to Famiglia for a pizza.”

Josh glanced between them, eyes curious, but he didn’t pry. Tyler was grateful for his tact. He focused on dicing the onions, but his thoughts continued to drift, imagining what might come after dinner.