“And you used to be smarter.”
The problem with a best friend calling you on your shit was that you couldn’t say,Go fuck yourself, walk out, and never see him again. But I’d been playing this game a long time.
“Look at you, all bossy. Remind me to give you a few of my extra toys your next birthday.”
“A jerkandan idiot. Look. You can deny it all you want, but I know the truth.”
“Do you, now?” I sipped my cappuccino, my leg swinging back and forth. “Enlighten me.” I held the cup tightly.
“I think you’re falling in love with Torre, but you’re afraid. And I understand why, after what happened between your parents.”
I had to congratulate myself for keeping it under control. If it were anyone other than Press, they would’ve had my fist in their face.
“I’m not afraid of anything. Or anybody.”
Presley shut down his computer, went to the front of the store, and flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED before returning to sit by my side. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t scared to death. It’s hard to give yourself to someone else.”
“Never. I’ll never give myself away. I learned a long time ago that the only one you can count on not to hurt you is yourself.”
“Never say never,” Presley replied. “Now, where are you taking me to dinner?”
* * *
“Mike, meet my best friend, Presley, and his fiancé, Nate.” The four of us sat at a round table in Mangia, and I could see Nate giving the place the once-over. “Mike is Torre’s brother,” I told them when Torre gave Mike a hug.
“Did you bring your passport, Nate? You know they check it when you go back over the bridge.”
“You’re cute, Frisco.” Nate loosened his tie and sipped his water. “I’ve been to Brooklyn. Once.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Torre nudged me. “Frisco was the same way when he first came to Brooklyn.”
“Well, let’s just say I’ve discovered its charms.” I draped my arm over Torre’s shoulders, ignoring Presley’s little smile. I played with the ends of his hair, occasionally brushing against his ear. Press might think that was a sign of something more, but I was a physical person with Torre. If I didn’t touch him, it would be more odd than not.
Mike came by with the menus, and I noted with quiet satisfaction that he’d kept themazzamurruand my sardine dish, along with marinated octopus. He’d also added several fresh-pasta dishes I’d offered him, including a squid-ink linguini with seafood and a short-rib agnolotti, along with a roasted red snapper in a white wine, lemon, and butter sauce.
“Mikey, you’re upping the game here.” Torre nodded his head. “Looking good.”
Puffing up with pride, Mike pointed to the pasta dishes. “I’m always running out before the end of the night. People are loving them. Frisco, man, I gotta hand it to you. Thanks for your suggestions. I really appreciate it.”
Torre cocked his head. “Wait, you guys have been talking?”
“Well,” I said, reaching for the focaccia bread, “when I worked in the kitchen, I had thoughts. And so I chatted Mike up a few times and sent him some of my recipes.”
“Thoughts. The man gave me some brilliant ideas.” Mike slapped Torre on his back. “Don’t ever break up with Frisco, bro. If you do, much as I love you, I can’t guarantee whose side I’ll be on.”
Torre’s gaze shifted from me to Mike, then over to me again. I raised my brows and shrugged my shoulders. “What can I say? I’m lovableandindispensable.”
“Ha fucking ha. You’re both a riot.” Torre rolled his eyes. “Mikey, make yourself useful and get us a bottle of red.”
“Screw that.” I surprised myself, but what the hell. “Give us a bottle of your best champagne.”
Mike left, and I popped a piece of bread into my mouth. Presley and Nate sat across from Torre and me with the same dumbfounded expression on their faces.
“What’s wrong?” I poured some olive oil on my bread plate and dipped another piece of bread.
“Nothing,” Press said softly and leaned over to Nate. “You were right.”
“I told you.” Nate smirked. “As soon as I saw, I knew.”
