“He must’ve really hurt you,” Charlie says.
“Preston and I were together for almost two years when the festival came up. By that time, I think we all knew my grandfather wasn’t going to live much longer, so I got this idea in my head that I’d propose to Preston at the festival after giving the big keynote speech. I knew it was almost like my audition to be the face of Amorina, and I nailed it. I was rehearsed and confident and clear-voiced. Everything went perfectly, up until I called Preston onto the stage, got down on one knee, and he rejected me in front of the huge crowd. There was shock and laughter. I was humiliated,” Dario says.
“Couldn’t he at least have pretended for the audience? I’m sorry it went down like that,” Charlie says, clearly hanging on every word.
“Offstage, Preston told me he’d been having doubts about us for a while, and that he wished he’d said so sooner, that it hadn’t come to this, but that he couldn’t go on pretending that he saw a future for us,” Dario recounts, the memory racing to the surface of his skin like a poison pushing its way out. “He didn’t even stayfor the rest of the festival. He left me there, alone. I suffered such a debilitating panic attack that my mom found me sometime later sat in an alley with my knees to my chest staring into space. I didn’t even remember how I’d gotten there.”
“Oh, Dario,” Charlie says.
“It was a big, foolish mistake,” says Dario.
“Mistakes are part of being human. Placing your trust in someone is always a gamble even when you think you know them inside and out. Even your own family, sometimes,” Charlie says, sounding beaten down by a situation outside his control.
“Has someone in your family hurt you?” Dario asks, hoping Charlie lets him in.
“You know how I told you about my grandpa’s injury? My uncle was the one who pushed him to file a lawsuit against the company who manufactured the crane that malfunctioned and caused him to lose his foot. My grandpa was really hesitant at first, claiming the company he worked for had been good to him, especially with the workmen’s comp. But eventually, my uncle wore him down and Grandpa won his case. The settlement was massive. Maybe not by global chocolate company standards, but for us? Where we come from, it was life-changing money.”
“Your lives didn’t change?” Dario asks.
“They did for a brief time. I was a kid. But even then, I could tell. My parents seemed less stressed. I got more toys that Christmas. My grandpa set up an appointment with a prosthetist and got his first prosthetic foot. He got up and walking again and we all thought the universe was finally rewarding the Moore family.” Charlie’s expression darkens; cheeks slacken. “Then sometime the following spring, I woke up to hear my grandparents and parents whispering in the kitchen. Nobody was even touching the French toast Dad had made, which is saying something because that is his specialty. I knew better than to interrupt grown-up talk, so I hung back and listened.My uncle had disappeared and the bank account they’d put the settlement money into had been drained.”
Dario’s heart grows arms that seek to reach from his chest and wrap Charlie up in a hug so fierce and protective that Charlie may never experience hurt again. “That is terrible. I am sorry. Did they track him down and recover the money?”
“His name was also on the bank account. Legally, he was entitled to it. Without that money, we couldn’t hire anyone to get that money back. A bit of a catch-22 there,” he says.
“I sincerely wish that had not happened to you,” Dario says.
“It’s okay. I never had a strong relationship with Uncle Buck, so that part didn’t sting so much, but my grandparents had to sell their house and move in with us. My grandparents got the main bedroom, my parents moved into my room, and the living room was where I had to sleep, watch TV, do homework.”
Villa Meraviglia—a word that translates loosely to “wonder”—lost its luster for Dario long ago. It is the place where he sleeps, feeds his dog and does his work. It is not a place helives inbeyond the literal sense. Becauselivingrequires a zest for the world that Dario doesn’t know how to get back. The sort of zest he sees sparkling in Charlie Moore’s eyes each time he looks at him.
Charlie Moore deservesmore.
Damn, Dario Cotogna wants to give it to him.
“That must’ve been tough,” Dario says, his privilege flocking around him like vicious gulls to a spilled meal.
“The only tough part was how emotionally destroyed my family was. One selfish person made them all guarded. Hope left our house that day,” Charlie says. “I don’t even mean, like, they all got mean and pessimistic. Far from that, actually. My family is goofy and loud and a hoot to be around, but more, that day, they stopped dreaming.”
“You are here,” Dario says around a ball of emotion stopping up his throat. “You must still dream.”
Charlie’s pensive expression shatters, making way for a bright smile that puts the luminous sun to shame. “I’ve been dreaming enough for all five of us,” he says, gaze cast out over the lake like a fishing line hoping for the biggest catch.
Is that him? Is Dario the prize fish he’s hoping to haul in?
“I would like to kiss you,” Dario says, eyes trained on that mouth. Those perfectly imperfect teeth glistening between melon-colored lips.
“What’s stopping you?” Charlie asks, an air of sweet cockiness cropping up in his voice.
Dario does not share the confidence Selina had at the fortress or the cheekiness Charlie had in the pool. Preston took any “moves” Dario may have had when he blindsided him a year ago, leaving Dario to question if any of it was ever real and if he possessed any lovable parts at all.
Those fears bury themselves in the sand as Dario inches into Charlie, someone he’s only known for days but already makes him feel safe. With Charlie, he senses that he doesn’t need confidence or cheekiness. He only needs what he has to offer. That all he is and all he will be is enough for Charlie Moore.
Dario’s hand runs over Charlie’s blue buzz cut as he stares into Charlie’s eyes before gently tugging him in. Their lips meet, and the kiss is unrushed and salty from their mixed sweat and the olive oil lip balm. Nobody is coming to interrupt them this time, and Dario is thankful for that.
Kisses are like colors; each shade tells a different story.
If their kiss in the pool was a lustful scarlet, this kiss is a warm burgundy. Richer and deeper. A true display of comfort and care.
