Antonio's laughing at something one of the line cooks said, Lazlo's pouring mimosas with his usual flair, and the rest of the crew—servers, dishwashers, the new prep guy—are digging in, the clink of cutlery mixing with yawns and stories from last night's close.
It’s always been my favorite moment of the week. But with my boy here too, it’s simply the cherry on top of the cake. And now I’ve experienced it once, I don’t know how I’m ever going to accept it any other way.
Danny sits beside me, wide-eyed but smiling, forking into his eggs like he hasn't eaten in days. He’s big, works hard, and needs his calories—and I want to make sure that I’m the kind of Daddy who sees to his every need.
I'm proud too.
My boy getting a peek behind the curtain, seeing the heart of what I do. Not the polished front-of-house glamour, but the real deal… the family we've built here.
And damn if he doesn't fit right in.
He's chatting with Antonio about some Italian recipe his grandma used to make, the two bonding over food like old pals. Antonio's eyes light up, gesturing animatedly, a rare sight these days with his mind elsewhere.
Danny's natural charm shines through, even from a distance as I watch on. Even the usually reserved dishwasher cracks a joke about construction vs. kitchen work, and Danny rolls with it, self-deprecating and warm. I know Danny took a minute to settle and be himself with his work crew, but it’s like he’s hit the ground running with my team. He might be a Little, but he’s not afraid. And all I need to do is watch on and love every second of it.
Watching them, a thought nags… Antonio as a Little? I've suspected it for years—subtle signs, like how he lights up over simple comforts, his occasional shy demeanor amid the kitchenchaos. Oh, and the time I caught him checking out a table of Daddies that were in town for a big club night.
But I've kept it professional, boundaries firm.
The restaurant's future depends on stability. I can't risk complicating that. Still, if he is... maybe that's part of his restlessness. Maybe he needs space to explore, like I did back in the day when I was working things out.
Whatever. This isn’t the time to get overly deep. I’ve got a delicate littlePain au chocolatethat needs devouring.
Before long, breakfast winds down, plates clearing. I catch Lazlo's eye, nodding toward the door. "Quick chat outside?"
Lazlo follows me out the back, into the alley where the morning sun fights through clouds, the air still crisp with last night's chill. Delivery trucks rumble nearby, powering out of town and back to the suppliers no doubt. But either way, it's quiet enough.
I lean against the brick wall, arms crossed.
"About Antonio. That New York offer…it's eating at him."
Lazlo sighs, running a hand through his silver-streaked hair.
"Yeah,” Lazlo says, exhaling. “He confided last night after close. He doesn't want to go, actually. Loves it here. The city, the team. He says he'd rather stay local, open his own spot someday. But he's scared you'll see it as disrespect, like he's abandoning ship or setting up as a rival"
I nod, processing.
"Come on, that’s bullshit,” I say. “But maybe I can see why he’d think like that. It’s not as if I’ve ever been shy in coming forwardabout my competition, is it? Ha. And Antonio…he's loyal to a fault."
"And there's themoney," Lazlo adds. "No savings for startup, no investors lined up. Connections? Zilch outside our circle. He feels stuck. As much as a move to New York doesn’t appeal to him, it would give him that big budget without him needing to do any of the heavy lifting to get it. Or, for that matter, the risk involved.”
Suddenly, the pieces click.
Well, kind of.
If Antonio wants to stay... maybe I can help.
Fund a new venture? Partner on a sister restaurant? Keep him close, let him spread wings without leaving the nest entirely.
But it hinges on capital, time—and my own life. With Danny in the picture, things are shifting. I don’t know if I can persuade Danny to stay here and make a life with me. He loves the Construction Boys life too much. I can see that, and he’s literally told me himself that he never dreamt he would find a team that understood him so well, didn’t’ judge, and shared so much in common with him. To ask him to leave that just so he can be close to me doesn’t seem right on so many levels.
Fuck.
It’s all going to take a bit more working out than I might have hoped.
But, hey, who said life was easy?
"Appreciate the insight," I say, clapping Lazlo's shoulder. "Let's keep an eye. If he opens up, steer him my way. The last thing I want is for him to feel like he can’t keep things real with me."
