Page 82 of Ruined

Nico works his jaw as he glares at us both. “Yuck, you look so in love. It’s gross.”

“Don’t listen to him; he’s just jealous.” Luca jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “Come on, let me get you a drink.” He guides us past the clusters of people standing by the couch. I don’t recognize any of them; they must be friends of the twins.

“Happy birthday, by the way,” Oliver says.

“Thanks,” Luca throws over his shoulder as he pours us drinks at the counter. “Twenty-four. Ugh, we’re getting old.” He glances at me and waves a hand. “I mean, it’s all relative.”

“Sure.” I’ve never felt more out of place; I’m older than everyone at this party by at least a decade. In fact, my birthday is coming up in a few weeks. Forty-four.

“I’m twenty now,” Oliver says.

Luca winks at me as he hands me a drink. “So now you can finally say you’re no longer going out with a teenager, huh?”

My cheeks heat, and I take a sip of the drink to avoid replying. Oliver probably needs to get at least five years older before I’m fully comfortable with our age difference.

I’m not ashamed—it just feels weird whenever the subject comes up, and I see the reaction on people’s faces. They don’t know us; they don’t know what we’re like or how well we fit together, but in a few years, our age gap will be less jarring to the outside world. At least I assume so. The fact that we used to be stepdad and stepson will probably never get less offensive, though.

When Nico enters the kitchen space and gets himself a beer, Oliver hands him a wrapped gift out of the bag we brought.

“Hey, um, I got you this. Happy birthday.”

Without replying, Nico starts tearing into the wrapping. I didn’t know what it was at first when Oliver bought it, but apparently it’s an infinity slider—with two metal pieces that slide together with a satisfying click.

Oliver starts rambling. “I didn’t know if you already had enough of them or if you still liked them or…”

Nico looks stunned. He rips the slider out of the plastic packaging and tests it out with a small click. “No, it’s… Thank you.”

“He’s really touched,” Luca whispers in my ear.

“This is for you, Luca.” Oliver hands him a packet, and unlike Nico, Luca calmly unwraps it and breaks into a smile at the sight.

“I’ve thought about getting one of these.” He holds up the T-shirt coloring kit. “Thank you.”

“Really?” Oliver looks relieved, and I put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

He’s agonized about the gifts for weeks. I’ve been there for him through all the ups and downs—the guilt of leaving his roommates after only a few months of living with them, then resigning from the restaurant he was working at and taking a slower-paced part-time job in a small shop instead.

He’s needed me through all of those moments of figuring things out, and I’ve been there for him through everything, as his partner and as his daddy, patiently supporting him.

“I need this more than ever,” Nico says, clicking the slider. “I’ve just started at a new gig.”

Luca leans into me and Oliver with a theatrical whisper. “He’s not getting along with his boss.”

Nico scoffs. “He’s not my boss; he only thinks he is. He’s my supervisor, and he’s an asshole.”

“I thought you liked assholes,” Oliver says with a waggle of his brows.

“Not this asshole.” Nico starts aggressively fidgeting with the slider. “He’s… just… so fucking annoying. I can’t stand him. Every time I see him, I want to⁠—”

“Punch his face in,” Luca finishes with a knowing smirk. “Sure. You keep telling yourself that.”

“Did I tell you he’s shorter than me?”

“Hasn’t stopped you before.”

“Shut up,” Nico grumbles. “I’m fucking freaking out.”

Now that I think about it, he looks like he hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in weeks. The makeup around his eyes only exaggerates the effect.