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“Uh,” I say. “Leo is fine.” I stick out my hand awkwardly. “Good to meet you.”
Teddy grasps my hand in both of his and doesn’t shake so much ashold, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re very popular onCute Crims,” he tells me, like I should be proud of the fact.
“I...what?”
Sandro smirks, but before he can say anything, Julian steps closer, his arm going around my waist possessively. “Hello, Teddy MacCallum,” he says, and something in the air changes. I’ve heard Julian use that tone before, and it means bad things. His voice is cold and high, and from the look on Sandro’s face, he knows exactly what it means as well.
So Julian and Sandro aren’tquiteas buddy-buddy as they made out. Good to know.
But then some little charge goes on between Julian and his brother, and Julian takes a deep breath. “It’s very nice to see you...Teddy.”
Teddy gives a shy, almost hopeful smile. “You’re looking well, Julian.”
Julian is just about vibrating with something he wants to say, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “Thank you. You as well.” And then he clamps it shut again.
“You guys, uh, been together long?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
Sandro has to motion Jacopo and his boyfriend over for introductions. Both look mutinous, and I feel an empathetic twinge at the glare Miller gives Julian.
But Julian seems to be on his best behavior. “Hello, Miller,” he says, and he even smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but hell, it’s something.
“So, what’s on the menu tonight?” I ask, hoping to steer the conversation away from any potential drama.
“There’s this amazing lasagna that the chef at Redwood makes,” Teddy tells me. “He came over and made it specially for us, along with everything else.”
Thankfully, we’ve come in late enough to avoid small talk, because the food is ready. The dark slab of a table is enough to accommodate all of us comfortably, and there’s a hush over the group as everyone takes their seats. I’m next to Sandro, which tells me I should expect a grilling tonight, but Julian is next to me. Teddy is at Sandro’s right, and then Jacopo and Miller.
And there’s a whole bunch of tension going on around the table as well. The conversation is stilted, and Teddy is the only one who doesn’t seem to notice, smiling brightly around at all of us. “I’m so glad you all came,” he says.
Yeah. There’s definitely some tension between Jacopo and the Castellani Don, as well. When Teddy welcomes us like that, Jacopo’s jaw gets tight and he and Sandro exchange a look that’s almost hostile.
I don’t think Jacopo wanted to be here tonight. And based on the way Miller glares at Julian, he didn’t want to be here, either. That makes three of us.
I see why my father thought Juliancouldbe turned. The Castellanis are no Brady Bunch, that’s for sure.
There’s no staff here, but the food has been prepared, and Teddy and Sandro bring the dishes over to the table. I notice that Sandro makes sure to serve Julian and me, and even stares straight into my face as he puts the dish in front of me. The first course is a salad with tomatoes that taste of sunshine, topped with a burrata cheese that melts into cream in my mouth. I’m not really a salad man, butdamn. It’s as good as everything else I’ve eaten from this Redwood chef. If staying there with Julian meant eating likethisevery night, I might just consider it.
Kidding. Of course.
There’s not much talk over the salad. Jacopo keeps sending dark looks Julian’s way, and then mine as well. I ignore him, until he breaks the silence with a “Sorry.”
“Huh?”
“About your head,” he says, tapping the back of his own.
“You apologized already. And I told you to forget about it.”
“Yeah. Well, apparently I didn’t sound sorry enough the first time.”
“You don’t sound all that sorry now, either,” I point out, but I can’t help chuckling. “Anyway, never thought I’d get an apology from a Castellani for anything. So thanks, I guess.”
It breaks the ice, somehow. Jacopo gives a little laugh, and even Miller seems to relax a touch. Teddy is all confused smiles, blinking a little as though trying to figure out what’s going on.
And next to me, Julian puts his hand on my thigh. It’s always electric when we touch each other, but this is different, somehow. Warm. He looks at me with a softness in his eyes I’ve never seen before.
My stomach flips over, and even though I could’ve happily eaten the entire lasagna before I sat down at the table, my appetite is suddenly not so important.
All I can think about is Julian’s hand on my thigh and the way he’s looking at me.
