Authors: Irene Preston
“You’re saying he’s jealous of you?”
“Holy Mother.” Joey threw his hands up. “Yes, Carlo. He’s jealous. Never mind that it’s a completely different relationship. And,
despite
that, he came out here and did everything he could to make this place a success for you.”
“What if I don’t want to go to Dubai? What if I want to stay here? Why can’t he just stay here?”
“Because it doesn’t work that way this time.
He
doesn’t work that way. He’s not going to pressure you to do what he wants, either. He told you he wants you with him. Now it’s up to you, Gianni.”
“I have to get back on the line.”
“No. Not tonight. We don’t need you. Get out of here. Think about things. This is your restaurant, you’re always welcome here, but go decide where you need to be.”
Carlo left.
Now it’s up to you, Gianni
. No one had called him Gianni since he was a kid. He wasn’t a kid anymore, and what did Joey know about things between Carlo and Garrett, anyway? He should keep his opinions to himself.
He stopped in to check on Nonna and get some sympathy for his ruffled feelings.
Nonna gave him a cookie and let him talk while she did her daily crossword.
“He wants to keep expanding. Why can’t he be happy with the restaurant here?”
“Because you didn’t fall in love with a man who would be happy with one restaurant. You knew this before.”
“I don’t know anything about Dubai except you can’t be gay there. I want to stay here. I want a family.”
“What does a family have to do with staying here?”
“I just….” He didn’t know.
“Carlo, I love having you close, but you’re moving backward. Life is about moving forward.”
“My family is here, Nonna.”
“We’ll keep being your family no matter where you are. Who do you want to make your own family with?”
“What if Garrett doesn’t want to make a family with me? What if I’m only ever his partner?”
"You're afraid," Nonna said. "Garrett’s running from his family, but you’re hiding in yours. You can't hold him down. You'll smother him, and it will kill you both."
“He said he wouldn’t leave Ransom for me.” He finally admitted the real hurt. How could Garrett love him if the restaurants came first? “Why should I leave my life for him?”
"Be careful, Giancarlo. Garrett's not me. Argentina isn't a threat he's making. It's his destiny."
"Dubai, Nonna."
Nonna put down her crossword and got up. She kissed Carlo and patted him on the cheek. "I'm busy today, Gianni. Come to dinner next time Garrett is in town. He’s too skinny. I’ll make my
brasato,
and we’ll put some meat on his bones."
Chapter Sixteen
Garrett had a cat.
Of course, Garrett didn’t see it that way.
Carlo and the massive tom eyed each other across the kitchen. Carlo sat on a stool while Garrett made supper. The cat sat on the counter and watched Carlo with a look that somehow managed to convey both boredom and menace.
“What’s his name?” Carlo asked.
“How should I know?”
“What do you call him, then?”
“Cat. He’s not mine, Carlo.”
“But he’s in your house. You feed him.” Carlo didn’t mention the tiny pet door out to the balcony that had appeared since he last visited or the fact that Cat wore a collar. If he were brave enough to get close enough to read the tag, he would lay money Garrett’s contact was on it. Cat weighed at least thirty pounds without an ounce of cute. He sported short, no-nonsense gray and black hair. A large, hairless scar ran down one leg, and he was missing half an ear. Carlo felt sorry for whatever had decided cat ear would be a tasty treat.
“If I don’t feed him, he kills birds. And he makes horrible noises.”
Carlo watched as Garrett set two plates and a saucer on the counter. They were dining “very casual” by Garrett’s standards—seared ahi loin and watercress salad. Garrett mounded watercress on the side of the two plates, added thin slices of avocado and mango, then whisked together his famous ginger-lime dressing and dotted it around the perimeter.
By this time, the pan was hot. Garrett transferred the sesame-crusted tuna into it for a brief sear then removed the meat to the waiting cutting board to slice.
Carlo looked at the waiting plates. “Do we need another saucer?”
“Hmmm? No, of course not.”
Garrett finished slicing and started plating their dinner. Beautiful, rare tuna fanned down the plates next to the watercress. When he finished, two small slices of tuna were left on the cutting board. Carefully, he shaved off the sesame seeds, diced the tuna into small, perfectly uniform cubes, and mounded it onto the saucer. He looked at it for a second, frowned, and then went to the refrigerator. When he came back with the tiny sprig of greenery, Carlo finally got it.
“You’re feeding the
cat
sashimi grade tuna?”
Garrett fussed with the sprig of catnip until it sat at a jaunty angle next to the diced fish.
“Well,
yes
. That’s what we’re eating. What should I feed him?”
“Cat food?”
Garrett visibly shuddered. “I went to a pet store. Nothing looked edible.”
“Can of tuna then.”
“I don’t even know where to buy that.”
“Garrett.”
“Okay, I don’t like that aisle. Anyway, I’m supposed to make something special just for him? He’s a
cat
, Carlo. I’m not going to go out of my way. He eats what we eat.”
“Yes, we wouldn’t want to spoil him.”
Carlo picked up the plates and headed to the next room where there was a bottle of wine breathing on a bistro table by the floor-to-ceiling balcony windows. Garrett followed him with the cat’s plate, which went on a placemat on the floor along with a dish of water poured from Garrett’s stash of Pellegrino.
Cat ignored Carlo as he stalked past and began eating with unexpected fastidiousness.
“What happens when you go out of town?” Carlo asked.
“I leave meals in the fridge and my housekeeper feeds him.”
“Leftovers?” Carlo affected horror.
“Well, I’m sure she doesn’t heat them properly. But, when I first met him he was eating a raw bird on my balcony, so I imagine he is used to making do.”
Yes, Carlo imagined Cat could cope with cold chef-prepared meals. He smiled to himself, imagining Garrett boxing up tiny cat-sized portions complete with heating instructions. Not his cat. Really.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing, Sweets. It’s a nice thing you’re doing, feeding the cat.”
“You want a dog.” Garrett’s face tensed.
Carlo started to say that some people had both, but another glance at Cat, who looked likely to eat anything smaller than a Rottweiler, changed his mind.
“Cats are nice, too.”
After dinner they spent an hour going over staff applications for Ransom West until Garrett announced, “Enough work. You’re tired, Carlo.”
Yes, but he wanted to make some time for later in his visit. He thought of his last trip to see Nonna before he left.
“Let’s get this finished up,” he said. “I thought we might take a night off sometime this week, just spend some time together.”
He thought he had kept it casual, but Garrett began shuffling papers and wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Garrett? Are you too busy this week?” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
“No, no. Actually, we’re not filming tomorrow. I thought we might go see that exhibit you mentioned at the Getty and then… eat.”
“Eat? You want to go out? Or I can cook?”
“I’ll cook. I’ll make something special. I feel like cooking for you.”
“Yeah, that sounds good, Sweets. I’d like that.” A whole day, just the two of them. No work. He couldn’t remember the last time they had spent a day like that. He hadn’t expected Garrett to go for eating out, but otherwise the day played into his plans exactly.
He tugged Garrett into his lap and wrapped his arms around him. Garrett was right. Enough work tonight. They had torn each other’s clothes off the first minute in the door when Carlo had arrived from the airport, but then Garrett had gone back on set. When he got back there had been supper, the cat, staff applications. All normal stuff, but Carlo wanted to touch Garrett.
Garrett hadn’t said the words since he left New York. Joey was right. He shouldn’t be so hung up on words and labels. But he had grown up in a family that expressed affection easily. If he couldn’t have the words, he needed the reassurance of physical closeness outside of monkey sex.
He ran his hands up and down Garrett’s arms, loving how soft and warm the skin felt over hard muscles. Garrett’s arms came up around Carlo’s neck, and he laid his head in the crook of Carlo’s shoulder. Carlo breathed in warm vanilla and let his hand continue to roam, stroking Garrett’s chest and stomach, feeling the heat of his body through his cotton tee, dipping lower to squeeze denim-clad hips and pet hard thighs. Garrett snuggled closer. Carlo felt lips against the side of his neck, the barest hint of teeth, more lips. Warm. Gentle.
He didn’t know how long he spent in a hazy cocoon of petting, but eventually Garrett’s shirt was off, his pants unbuttoned,
warm
and
gentle
trended toward
hot
and
urgent
.
Carlo tilted Garrett’s head up and kissed his lips once, gently, then dove into the sweetness of Garrett’s mouth without any thought to
gentle
whatsoever. Garrett expressed his approval by turning more fully into Carlo and tugging him down into the sofa cushions. Carlo followed, rolling so he was on top of Garrett. He wanted the rest of their clothes off, but he didn’t want to stop kissing Garrett to do it. This dilemma took up enough brain cells that he didn’t notice the odd noise at first.
Until it got louder.
And closer.
He opened his eyes and looked up.
“
Madonn’!
”
Baleful green eyes glared two inches away from his face. Back arched, Cat perched on the arm of the sofa just above their heads and growled at him.
Garrett looked up at the same time and went still underneath him.
“Shhh,” he said. “I think we scared him.”
“
We
scared
him
?”
Cat hissed, and Carlo had the terrifying thought that his eyes were within reach of Cat’s claws and his hands were trapped under Garrett. He stared at Cat, afraid to move.
“Yes, Carlo, we’re
scaring
him. Get
off
, he thinks you’re hurting me.”
“Okay, babe. I’m just going move real slow and…
ommph.”
Carlo hit the floor with a thud as Garrett rolled off the sofa and headed for Cat.
“Garrett,
be careful
.”
But it was too late. Garrett scooped Cat into his arms and began crooning. “Shhh. It’s okay. See? I’m okay.”
Cat gave a final hiss in Carlo’s direction before relaxing against Garrett and allowing himself to be cuddled. Carlo let this go on for a few minutes before saying, “Babe, you maybe want to put him outside or something?”
“I can’t put him out now, Carlo. He’s
traumatized.
”
Carlo picked his shirt up off the floor and glared at Cat. He felt a little like hissing himself. The feeling didn’t go away when Cat joined them on the sofa, still in Garrett’s arms. The three of them spent the rest of the evening watching a movie. Carlo kept his hands to himself.
At bedtime, Garrett finally decided that Cat’s delicate sensibilities had been soothed. He set him out on the balcony with instructions to “Run along” and “No fighting tonight.”
In the bedroom, Garrett wrapped his arms around Carlo. “Where were we?”
“I’m not sure. I think
I’m
traumatized.” Grumpy anyway.
Garrett bit him on the neck. “Come to bed then, and let me pet you until you feel better.”
“It might take a lot of petting.”
“We should close the door.”
“Okay?”
Garrett looked embarrassed.
“Cat sometimes sleeps in the bed.”
****
Garrett looked down at the tiny chicken meatball resting in a spoonful of lemongrass broth.
This had been a bad idea. He should have taken Carlo out. That was traditional. Some place expensive, romantic. He was Garrett Ransom. He could get any table in the city with a phone call. Why hadn’t he?
He had thought he could do better. He hadn’t wanted to risk his own reaction to someone else’s food.
Instead, he stood in his own kitchen, looking at his own food, and, for the first time ever, he didn’t know if he could eat it. He certainly couldn’t taste it, which meant he would be preparing everything from a completely intellectual standpoint. A special dinner for Carlo.
Disaster
.
Carlo waited in the next room. There was candlelight, flowers, music. Garrett had even fed Cat early and locked him outside. He couldn’t just hide in here all night.
He picked up his
amuse bouche
– the meatball a nod to Carlo’s food obsession; the chicken, lemongrass, and presentation catered to Garrett’s own tastes. That was his theme tonight, the fusion of their two worlds. The idea had seemed clever when he thought of it. Right now, it seemed stupid and pretentious. And too late to think of anything else.
Carlo was sipping his Negroni when Garrett got to the table. He smiled a little when Garrett put the spoon down in front of him.
“Meatball?”
“I know,” Garrett said, miserably. “You told me not to do it. It’s not Italian, but….” He trailed off and watched while Carlo ate the meatball then sat with his eyes closed a minute.
“I’m sorry,” Garrett said. “I should have left it alone.”
“It’s amazing, babe. I liked that it wasn’t Italian. You didn’t try to replace my subs, just give me something new. Aren’t you eating yours?”
Garrett pushed the other spoon across the table. “I ate one in the back to taste,” he lied. “You can have this one, too, if you really like it.”