I feel every stroke. I feel every thrust of his hips. I feel every bead of sweat that drips from his face or chest and onto mine. I feel every moan vibrate through his ribs and into mine. I feel his fingers pushing into the flesh of my muscles and I hope they bruise. I feel his hair fall into my faceand I kiss each strand that touches my lips. I feel him come apart inside me, filling me with himself. And I feel my own sweet surrender as it takes everything from me – my vision, my hearing, my heart – and yet doesn’t empty me.
In fact, I’ve never felt so full, so whole, so complete.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Marcello
“So I had this idea,” I say when Giles emerges from Marble Arch Tube station.
It’s Saturday morning. Our usual running time, but this is our first Saturday morning running as boyfriends. Just like this week was our first week training in the gym as boyfriends. It's been the best week.
“Let’s run to my house,” I say. “I want to introduce you to my mamma. As my boyfriend.”
Giles falters on his way to kissing my cheek. He pulls back. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” I nod, possibly like one of those British Bulldog models you used to see in the back of people’s cars. I reach for his hand and kiss the back of it. “It’s twelve kilometres exactly. I think I’m ready for that. Are you?”
“I’m ready for the run, sure.” Giles squints into the sun as he looks up at me. It’s September now and the weather has started to cool but still the sun is dazzling or maybe that’s just because everything seems brighter this week. “And you know I’d love to meet your mother, properly, that is. But is she ready to meet me as your boyfriend??”
“Why wouldn’t she be? You’re you. She already knows you and speaks highly of you. She even hinted she had a thing for some muscular hunk herself back in her youth. Must be where I got it from.”
“But have you… Have you come out to her?”
“No, I figured this would do it though.” I hold up our joined hands.
“It will do it, for sure. But I’m not sure it’s the right way to do it. Your mum might need some time to process… everything.”
“What’s there to process? I’m bisexual and I have a boyfriend. A really lovely, hot boyfriend.” I yank him closer to me and press my mouth to his. He only kisses back for a few seconds.
“Not everybody is as chill as you are about being queer. I’m so very happy you haven’t had to deal with a fuck ton of internalised queerphobia like most of us have to, but that doesn’t mean your mother doesn’t need some time to adjust.”
“Well, if she does then I’ll just pack a bag and go stay with you for the weekend,” I say and then I realise how presumptuous that is of me. “If you want, that is. If you have plans, then that’s fine.”
“You are my plans,” he says and kisses me back properly this time. “Come on, let’s run. We’ll head to your place and we’ll see how you feel when we get there.”
When we do get to my house, one hour and thirty-two minutes later, I feel exhausted. Broken. A shadow of the man I woke up as this morning.
But what I don’t feel is doubt about telling Mamma about Giles. And me.
Maybe it’s delusional how much faith I have in my mother, but it’s been her and me for so long I can’t imagine she’d let something like this affect our bond. I open my mouth to tell Giles this but then snap it shut again because it feels like it would have an air of boasting about it. I don’t want to rub in Giles’ face just how close I am to my mamma.
As it happens, he sees it as soon as I open the door.
“Marcello!Sei tu?” she calls from what I assume is her usual spot in the kitchen. Sure enough, after we slip off our shoes and walk down the corridor, we find her sitting at the small kitchen table with Italian Vogue and an espresso in front of her, which tells me she’s not long finished lunch. My mother is a creature of habit and I often think this is why us living together has worked so well. Her routine rarely deviates and so it sets a pace and a tempo for me to plan my days around, one that gives methe predictability and focus I crave but find so hard to manufacture or maintain myself.
“Ciao, Mamma.” I kiss the top of her head. “I have someone I want you to meet.”
Even before I can explain, Mamma is turning in her chair and pushing to stand. “I can see that. Giles! How are you? It’s been a while.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs Donati.” Giles steps forward and holds out his hand. “A pleasure to see you again.”
Much to Giles’ surprise but not to mine, she bats his proferred hand away and pulls him in for an embrace and three kisses, starting with his left cheek, then his right and finally leaving the last firmly on his left cheek. I breathe a sigh of relief that this is the custom in my family.
“Lovely to see you, Giles. I understand you’ve been helping Marcello train for his triathlon,”she looks at me and her eyes speak one hundred more words. Or specifically, one hundred questions.
“I have, but all the hard work is his,” Giles replies politely.
I go to the sink and pour myself and Giles glasses of water. Maybe I’m buying myself time, but really I need a moment to control the smile on my face. I’ve wanted to tell my mother I’ve met someone special for a long time, and now it’s about to happen.
