“No one, Annie. That’s why I’ve had such short-lived relationships. I could never be completely honest with any of my partners about what I do. I would keep waiting and waiting for the day they would somehow stumble across a video and be like—I know that body, that tattoo, that kitchen. It was just constant deception and anxiety on my end, so I would end it. It wasn’t fair to them.” I wasn’t being fair to myself, in a way, either.
I can tell that she has the beginning of that look in her eyes, so I choose my next words carefully. “You’re the only one in the entire world who knows, Annie, because you’re the only one I’ve ever felt comfortable telling.” I give her this.
I didn’t choose carefully enough, because Annie’s little body locks up.
“Nuh uh,” I tell her, reaching over and grabbing the strings of my hoodie and tugging. “Don’t you dare kick me out. I just got here. Just take that at face value, Annie. Don’t overthink it. But we’re gonna have to talk about it. ‘Cause something is happening here, and you fuckin’ know it.”
She tries to pull away, and I think the only way to keep her is to give her more of myself.
“I just can’t help but think of my dad,” I give her, and the tension leaves her body.
She peers over at me with new concern in her eyes. “He’d be proud of you,” she says firmly, and this right here is why I’m doomed.
I shake my head. “I loved the fuck out of him. He was never shy with his support. Constantly telling me how proud he was of me and my sister, of how smart we were, how successful we would be. Valentina didn’t always do too hot in school, but she still got the same sort of praise any time she improved her grades. He was such a good guy, and I really did love making him proud. But he was… a pretty traditional guy.”
“In what way?”
“In like a… go to Mass every Sunday way. Pretty socially conservative. FDNY.” I shrug. “And the worst part is, if he ever did find out I had a porn channel, he would never reprimand me about it. He’d just be quietly disappointed.” Which would be worse.
Annie drums her fingers on the door again, digesting this. When she speaks, it’s with conviction. “I don’t think I ever met your dad, but if he’s anything like your mom, or what I remember of your mom twenty years ago, then he’d be proud as hell. Your mom got sick, you didn’t follow your dreams to go to Cornell or whatever, you settled for somewhere at home because your mom needed you. What dad wouldn’t be proud of that? And then you paid for her medical bills, Nico. What was that, like tens of thousands of dollars?”
My mouth is a flat line.
“Wow, okay. More. But it doesn’t matter. What if you hadn’t done that? What would your mom be doing now?”
“We’d figure it out another way.”
“Yeah, and she’d be stressed as hell and maybe that would lead to another medical issue.”
I mull this over. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“I’ve already told you this, but I think what you’re doing is cool as fuck. And I think you should own it. When do you finish with your postdoc?”
“In a month.”
“Would you consider putting your name on the cookbook then?”
“Nope.”
Annie glares at me. I feel it in the side of my skull. “You can’t tell me you want my name on the book without yours. It’s our book, Nico.”
I search for her hand and bring it to my face, kiss her knuckles. “I’ll think about it.” But definitely not.
“You’re not gonna think about it,” she pouts.
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you.”
I nod. “You do. You do know me. More than anyone else. And vice versa. And that’s what we’re gonna have to talk about at some point between here and Miami.”
She doesn’t answer.
“You have me, Annie. All of me.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Annie
