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Luke coughed and spluttered, and Nico sighed.
“Look up.” He demonstrated. “That’s what my mother always tells me.”
Luke did as suggested, and a few seconds later he regained control. “I’ll be dipped. That works.”
“Glad I could help,” Nico said, fighting not to scowl. He was sexy, thank you very much.
“Cough aside, I needed that laugh.”
Nico turned the burner on low and slammed the cover on the pan. He’d make sure his next boyfriend, whoever that was, would appreciate the fact.
He bit down on speaking his mind and did what he did best. Shrugged it off. Pretended it didn’t hurt. “Why? Bad day?”
Luke frowned, then seemed to shake it off. “Not really.” He put a big pot under the tap and filled it.
“Which means yes. What’s wrong?”
“Honestly, there’s nothing wrong.” Luke transferred the pot to the stove. He looked at Nico, eyes still glittering from his laugh. The smile seemed warm and genuine and a little shy, but Nico didn’t want to read into it.
Luke hesitated. “We’ll take turns showering and I’ll tell you about it, yeah?”
Nico shrugged and slung off a “Sure,” annoyed at himself that he really wanted to know.
Luke
Kent: Are you bringing Nero?
Luke: Only if you bring Sylvester.
Kent: Don’t be an asshole.
Luke: Good advice. Follow it.
Luke should block the dickhead already. Why did Kent even care what Luke did? Better question, why did Luke bother to respond?
The shower cut off, and he stuffed his phone in his pocket. Luke wanted dinner ready when Nico came out. Not that he did any real cooking. Nonna had made the sauce, and even Luke could boil pasta. He tossed in the penne and set the timer—per the instructions Nico left. Which meant it really wasn’t like he cooked.
The phone vibrated in his pocket, but Luke refused to check. Nico always knew when Kent sent a message. It wasn’t hard to figure out when Luke scowled at his phone.
He wouldn’t let his ex ruin another night. Especially not tonight. Nico might get the wrong idea.
“How’s dinner coming?” Nico ran his hands across his wet hair.
Luke couldn’t deny how super hot it was. “The macaroni is cooking and the madanad should be warm enough.”
“Excellent.” Nico used the wooden spoon to stir the sauce. “When I was a kid, my family used all these slang words for regular stuff. Madanad, mutzadel for mozzarella, riguta for ricotta cheese. I thought they were real.”
“Right. So, what’s gabagool?”
Nico shrugged, looking sheepish. “Capicola.”
“Seriously? How do you get gabagool from that?”
“No idea.” He tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot and set it down. “When I was about sixteen, we went to the Jersey Shore for a week during the summer. I tried to be helpful and went shopping at the Acme, the local grocery store. I stared at the deli counter for like five minutes until the guy asks me if I’m looking for something specific.
“I say, ‘yes, I’d like a half a pound of brahjzoot sliced thin.’”
Luke snorted. “What the hell is that?”
“You heard the guy, eh?” Nico winked and set the strainer in the sink. “Brahjzoot is what my family calls prosciutto.”
“The fuck?”
“Exactly. I never knew the correct name was prosciutto. Sixteen and I was still calling things by these weird-ass names people in my community used instead of the real thing. The funny thing is, if you go to any deli in New York and ask for brahjzoot or gabagool, you’ll get prosciutto or capicola.”
“That’s . . .” Bizarre, and oddly adorable.
“Fucked-up?” Nico nodded. “You can say it.”
Luke could say it. But could he say the adorable bit?
“I feel like my family trained me to speak a weird language no one understands so I couldn’t leave the neighborhood.”
Luke snorted, relieved Nico had moved on so he didn’t have to speak.
He loved Nico’s stories. Found it fascinating how easily Nico slid between two worlds. More so than his parents and grandparents, it seemed.
When the pasta was finished, Nico pulled out a loaf of Italian bread and made them plates. They both sat, and Luke paused. It felt nice, eating good food at home with someone to banter with.
“So, what happened today? Or have you decided you’d rather not talk about it?” Nico didn’t look up as he sprinkled grated cheese on his pasta. When he finished, he offered the cannister to Luke, who took it, hesitating again.
“Nothing bad, really.” Luke shoveled food into his mouth to buy himself some time.
Nico saw right through that, judging by his arched brow.
Luke swallowed and dropped his fork onto the plate. “The firm holds these events for their interns all summer. The last two nights, they had receptions with key clients. Those were more workish. Saturday, they’re having a thing at the Phillies game.”
“That’s what has you all wonky?” Nico broke off a piece of bread and ran it through the sauce in his bowl. “You love baseball. Why isn’t a free game a ‘hell yeah’ moment? Or is it not free?”
