I’m lying. Not about him deserving it, God, no. He deserves everything good this world has to offer.
But about how okay I am.
Because inside I’m fucking crumbling.
I’m trying not to picture him gone. Trying not to imagine this house empty, my mornings empty, my nights…fuck. I rub his arm gently, pulling him closer into my chest.
His head finds my shoulder. "I’m so proud of you," I whisper again, pressing a kiss to his temple. "So fucking proud." My heart is screaming:What the hell am I supposed to do without you?But my mouth only says: "They will be so lucky tohave you." His breath hitches against my neck, like he’s fighting not to cry.
And still, I smile. Because someone has to be strong for him. I have to be strong for him. Because no one else ever fucking was. He’s quiet for a second, staring down at his hands. "Do you really think I deserve this?" his voice comes out small, raw.
I don’t even let him finish the breath after. "Nobody deserves this more than you," I say firmly. "You hear me?Nobody. You’ve worked your ass off for this. You earned it." He swallows, nodding slowly, like he’s trying to force himself to believe it.
I’m so fucking sorry that his first instinct is guilt. That the second he gets what he’s been dreaming of, the first thing that hits him is doubt. I hate that he’s been trained to flinch at his own wins. To question whether he’s allowed to want more. To look at the door opening and wonder if stepping through makes him selfish. It doesn’t.
He deserves every good thing coming to him. Every degree, every classroom full of loud-ass kids that are gonna love him without even trying. I’ve never met anyone more worthy of it all. And it breaks me that he still doesn’t know it.
"Okay," he whispers finally. "Okay…yeah. You’re right."
I give him a soft smile. "There you go. That’s my boy." I start gathering the plates to take them inside, but as I move, I catch him wiping his face quickly with the back of his hand.
I pause. Tilt my head. Raise my eyebrow. "Rava." He doesn’t look at me. "Yes?"
I narrow my gaze at him. "Was that a tear?"
He blinks. "No?"
The way his voice cracks makes me bite back a laugh, even as my own chest aches. I set the plates right back on the table. Slowly.
"What am I gonna do with this little guy," I mutter under my breath. I reach for his hand, tug him gently toward me. "Come here." He follows, and I pull him onto the small balcony couch.
I wrap my arms tight around him, tucking him into my chest like I’m protecting the most fragile thing in the world. My fingers slide into his hair, stroking it softly, grounding both of us.
"Hey," I whisper against his temple. "Look at me." His eyes are glassy, lips trembling just a bit. I cup his face, brushing my thumbs over his cheeks. "Do you realize what this means?" I grin.
"You’re officially the hottest academic weapon in North America. I should be jealous, but instead I’m just proud as hell."
He looks at me then. That look.
Thatfuck, what about uslook.
And I feel it hit me like a truck. I can’t follow him. As much as I fucking want to. As much as every damn cell in my body wants to just get on a plane and go with him, wake up next to him every day, kiss him before his lectures, pick him up on my bike like some dumb rom-com fantasy, I can’t.
Because someone’s gotta be here. Someone’s gotta take care of my mom, someone’s gotta keep my father’s business alive. That thing, it’s him.
And I can’t let that die too. Not whenhealready did.
So I do the only thing I know how to do. I cup Rava’s face, make him look at me, and I smile. "You’re gonna go there and kill it. You’re gonna make them wish they had three more of you. And I’ll be here, clapping from this side of the ocean like a lunatic every time you do something amazing."
He tries to say something, but I cut him off with a kiss. "Don’t think about what we’re leaving behind," I whisper against his lips. "Think about whereyou’regoing. About what you’ve worked for. You earned this, Ravioli. You earned it." He’sshaking his head, eyes shining, and yeah, I can’t take it anymore either.
So I pull him in, hold him like he’s already slipping through my fingers. "If I could, I’d already have two tickets booked. You have no idea how fucking bad I wanna go with you. But…I have to stay. I have to be what’s left for her. And for him. For now, at least. And I hope—"
I swallow. "I hope that doesn’t make you think I love you any less. ’Cause it’s the opposite. I love you too much to keep you here."
Then I force another smile, the Gio special, messy, cocky. He opens his mouth, but I see it coming. "But what if—"
I cut him off instantly. "You’ll handle it. Because you always do." His brows furrow. "But what if I can’t—"
