Beckett nods. “So maybe you write what you need to say, foryou. You decide whether you read it there, if you send it, or you burn it in the grill you barely use.”
“That grill is getting a promotion,” I say, knowing that it’s true. He snorts.
“He said,” I add, throat tightening. “That if I don’t come, it’ll ‘say a lot about the kind of son I turned out to be.’”
“It does say a lot,” Beckett agrees. “It says you turned into someone who tells the truth even when it’s inconvenient to a bully. Someone who treats others with love and respect.”
I turn to look at him. “How did you get to be so smart?”
“We always are until it comes to ourselves.”
One of my hands moves to his nape, and I pull him toward me until our mouths meet, taking him in a kiss I hope conveys my feelings for him.
When we come up for air, he rests his forehead on mine. “Write it,” he says, voice low enough to live right under my chest. “I’ll bring the matches. And if you decide not to burn it, I’ll bring a stupidly large coffee and sit outside that room until you’re done.”
A laugh slips out of me. “Only one?”
“Oh, I’ll have an extra thermos, just in case.”
I stand, reaching for his hand, and pull him up before wrapping my arms around him. I murmur a thank you and kiss the top of his head.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Yeah. Thank you for showing me this place.”
“Beautiful views are meant to be shared.” We take one last look out over the ocean before turning and heading back up the path, and I feel a little lighter with each step.
“Hey, Aunt Sofia.”
“Domenico. How are you, my dear?”
“Umm, good. Real good, actually.”
“So then, tell me. What is on your mind?”
“Psh, why do you think there’s something on my mind if I just told you I’m doing really well?”
I can practically hear the eye roll. “Because I saw how you were with that young man, and you’re freaking out.”
“I’m not…”
“Don’t lie to me, Domenico. I’m too old for that. Now, how are things going with Beckett? Did I word that better for you?” Jesus, no wonder those two get along so well.
I sigh and plop myself down on my couch. Might as well sit down for this. “I told him about Dad. Like, everything.”
“Oh, Dom.” Her voice softens in a way that gets me right behind the ribs. “That’s a good thing.”
“I know. It’s just… different. All of this is different.”
“Sometimesdifferentmeans you’re moving forward,” Sofia says. “I really like Beckett. He seems like someone who will keep you on your toes, but also, I think people underestimate him. I could tell he’s more than that. The look of worry on his face. It was the look of someone who cared deeply for another.”
I swallow. “I… care about him deeply too.”
“I’m aware,” she deadpans. “The way you hovered at dinner was like a bodyguard with a crush? Please.”
I huff a laugh, then stare at the ceiling. “What if I mess it up?”
“My love,” she says, and I can hear her moving around—a cup being set down, the cabinet door closing, her kitchen sounds. “You don’t protect love by pretending you don’t have it. You protect it by telling the truth, by staying when you want to run, and by keeping your boundaries where they belong.”
