She snatched the chocolates away from him. “I promise nothing.”
“It’s Noah Farman.”
Carmine braced for impact.
The next noise that came out of his sister, Carmine was sure only cats and his own poor eardrums could hear. He sat patiently chewing on the chocolate and toffee treat while she got herself under control.
“Are you joking?” she asked eventually.
“No.”
“You’ve slept with Noah Farman?”
“On more than one occasion. It’s not just sex.”
She sat in her seat and stared out at the car in front.
“Bloody hell, Carmine,” she said. “Dad will lose his shit.”
“Dad doesn’t need to know. Neither does Mum or Raoul. I mean it, Monica.”
She took his hand. “You’re dating a footballer. How long do you think you can keep it under wraps? Look at what happened last season.”
His world was imploding. When he’d lived in Los Angeles, everything had been nicely compartmentalised.
“I was seeing Arinze for long enough,” he said.
His ex was an action film star who kept his sexuality secret from the world. They’d managed perfectly well. Until Arinze had bedded half the extras on one of his movies and word had got back to Carmine.
“That’s different. The media here will soon work it out.”
“What am I supposed to do then?”
“Tell them.”
Carmine shuddered.
“You know how disappointed Dad was when I told him I wasn’t going to work at the bloody restaurant. I can’t do that to him again.”
Monica took his other hand. He stared into her eyes. Carmine had always been closer to Monica than Raoul. Even when she’d been an annoying sister demanding that he took her with him when he met his friends. He’d always complied.
“Carmine. Dad loves you. He will understand.”
“Maybe one day.”
“As for Raoul. He can fuck off. Who cares what he thinks?”
Carmine cared a lot. Being with his family was a joy he hadn’t expected. The risk that this could be taken away at a moment’s notice terrified him.
“One day.”
They weren’t too late when they got to their parents’ house. Monica remained true to her word and kept within the speed limit once they got onto the open road once more.
As soon as they arrived, their mother half dragged them through the house to the dining room where the old table was facing another battle to stay up under the weight of food. One day it would just give up and fall to the floor.
“Mama,” Carmine said, holding her close. “Are you expecting an army?”
“Humour me,” she replied. “I never get to cook for my family.”
