Restless, he rolled over and pulled his phone from his pocket to stop it digging into his hip. That he’d remembered to grab it from the wet table before Sam had yanked him out of the pub was a miracle, and he hadn’t looked at it since. If he had, he’d have seen the three missed calls from Sam and one from an unknownnumber.
Dylan sat up, his heart turning a sudden, drunken cartwheel in his chest. He’d used his phone for business when he’d worked at the bank and still got calls from random overseas numbers, but this was a UK mobile number.Angelo? Dylan didn’t fancy the disappointment if it turned out to be Nanna pocket dialling him from an ancient handset she’d bought on eBay, but hope still started a rave in hisveins.
He swiped at his phone and brought up the call log. The number taunted him and his thumb pressed CALL of its own accord. Stomach in his mouth, Dylan activated the speaker and stretched out on his front, his chin on his folded arms. It occurred to him far too late that it was after midnight, and the line crackled to life before he could correct hismistake.
“Yeah?”
Dylan’s breath escaped him in a whoosh. “Angelo? Is thatyou?”
“Um... yeah, I think so. I just woke up, so it’s hard totell.”
“Shit. Sorry.” Dylan cringed and grabbed his phone. “I can ring backtomorrow?—?”
“Nah, it’s all right.” Angelo cut him off and then yawned before he went on. “I was kinda hoping you’dcall.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s been a long week, and, uh, is it weird that I’ve missedyou?”
Warmth spread through Dylan from his scalp to his toes. “Maybe, but that makes me a weirdo too, because I’ve missedyou.”
“It doesn’t feel like we’ve only met sixtimes.”
“Wow. Is that all it is?” Dylan rolled over and dropped his phone on his chest. “Are we counting theclub?”
“It’d be four withoutit.”
The mere thought of their club encounters sent Dylan into overdrive. His skin tingled and heat flooded his groin. “I guess numbers don’t meanmuch.”
“Not in thiscontext.”
Absorbed as he was by his Angelo-themed buzz, Dylan picked up the bleakness lacing Angelo’s tone. “I shouldn’t ask if you’ve heard from the DROadvisor.”
“Sodon’t.”
“Um,okay?”
Angelo sighed. “Sorry. I’m just sick of thinking about it. I took my mum to that business advice centre today, and they told her she should sell the house and downsize if she wants to keep the deli, and she basically had a fucking breakdown. She doesn’t seem to understand that this is the last chance she’ll have to make the decisionsherself.”
“Is there enough equity in the house to bail out thedeli?”
“And then some. She could get a bungalow down the road and forget all aboutit.”
“What about you? Where would you live? I’m assuming you’d still run the deli for her if she paid the debtsoff?”
“It was never my plan to stick around, but it’s not like I’ve got anything else todo.”
“And you could hire somestaff?”
“I’d have to. Working it on my own is fucking killingme.”
Dylan didn’t doubt it. His impromptu shift at Giordano’s had beenbusy, and he couldn’t imagine how Angelo coped by himself at the weekends. “Do you think she’ll sell thehouse?”
“After this morning? Not a chance inhell.”
“Damn. So what are you going todo?”
Angelo didn’t respond straight away. Dylan listened to him breathe and closed his eyes. If the context of their conversation had been different, Angelo’s gentle exhales could’ve sent him to sleep. Maybe. If sleeping was something that ever came that easy. As it was, Dylan settled for a gentle meditation and wondered if his heart was beating in time withAngelo’s.
