by CC Bridges
But then I saw my stepmother wringing her napkin between her fingers, as her gaze darted between me and my father. Her perfect mask had cracked, and I knew now was the time to be honest.
“Because I saw what the hurricane did to people down the Shore. And I’m not the kind of person who can walk away from that.” I looked down at my food. I hadn’t eaten much anyway. It didn’t matter. “Honestly, Dad, you know I’m no good with numbers. I can’t pretend anymore. I need to help people.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “This isn’t what I planned for you.”
“I suspect there’s a lot about me you didn’t plan.” I slumped in my seat. “I’m grateful for you paying for my education, and I don’t want you to think I’m not. I’ve been looking into student loans, and Mom thinks that—”
“You’ve already discussed this with your mother?”
“Yeah, I did see her first.”
“And she’s perfectly fine with your questionable life choices?”
“Derek!” To my surprise, Sarah stood up and tossed her napkin on the table. “I’m not going to sit here and watch you criticize him.”
Okay, color me fucking shocked. I had never, ever seen her stand up to him. Hell, I’d never seen her stand up for me.
“Sarah.”
“No. When we got married, I made you a promise to never interfere with how you raised your son….”
Well, that explained a lot.
“But I’m not going to watch this anymore. The whole point of college is to try to figure out who you are. And if you insist on trying to turn him into a corporate drone like you….”
Well, that sounded like there might be trouble in paradise. I hunched over, trying not to make eye contact with either of them. I wasn’t sure if this was an improvement over the frosty Thanksgiving dinners of days past.
“I believe you’re overreacting.” Dad had gotten his cool back, and he dabbed his lips with his napkin.
She shot him a glare that should have set the rest of the turkey on fire. I almost wanted to suggest she call my mom, because right now they seemed to have a lot in common.
“I only want what’s best for you, Nick.” Oh, look, he remembered I was in the room. “You don’t want to leave college in debt without any prospects for the future.”
“I have enough credits to minor in accounting. As a fallback.” I threw the old man a bone. If there was anything I learned this week, it was how to compromise.
He seemed to consider my words for a moment. “All right. You get one semester. If your grades are significantly improved, I will support whatever you decide to do.”
“Yes!” I fist pumped.
That got Sarah laughing, and I was glad not to see the pinched tightness in her face. She sat back down and passed me the stuffing.
It was not as good as my aunt’s.
I PULLED into the parking lot of Martelli’s at six o’clock, right when Lou told me his family would be sitting down for dinner. Traffic had me arriving a bit later than I had hoped. It turned out that for major holidays, his family closed down the restaurant to outsiders and instead held a huge family smorgasbord. It made sense; there were a lot of Martellis.
However, it left me a little bit self-conscious when I pushed open the glass door, the bell jingling above my head like it had the first night I’d met Lou. No Bruce Springsteen played this time. No, the restaurant was filled with the sounds of a happy family—conversations in both English and Italian, laughter, and the shrieking of small children.
“Nick, you made it.” Lou sprang up from his seat. He ran over and, to my surprise, greeted me with a kiss.
There were hoots of laughter, and someone started clinking a fork against a glass. Lou turned and gave them the finger. They apparently found this extremely amusing. Then he took my arm and guided me into a seat next to his. All the tables had been pushed together to create one long one in the middle of the room, covered with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth.
“You’re just in time for the antipasto.” He held out a tray filled with cheese and olives, and what looked like sausage. “Watch out for the ’nduja, it’s spicy.”
That was the reddish meat-thing he pointed out. I decided to stay away from that. But it turned out that tray was only the beginning. We followed that with a pasta dish, and only afterward did the turkey come out. Lou’s family didn’t skimp on food, that was for sure. I didn’t know how we were going to eat it all. I tried a little bit of everything, although I might have had a second helping of his mother’s rice balls.
His younger sister Gloria sat on my other side, and we talked about schools. She got accepted to RU but was thinking of going to the community college for a few years first. I gave her my impressions of both schools, and it was really, really nice. She didn’t even tease me about asking after Lou in the pizzeria back in September. That, I appreciated. I could only take so much embarrassment.
“Everyone, I have an announcement.” Lou’s father stood up, a glass of wine in his hand.
“Oh no,” Lou murmured under his breath. Clearly he knew what this was about. I put my hand on his knee and squeezed for moral support.
“As you know, we’ve been doing good business here with my nonna’s recipes from Italy. No disrespecting Nonna.” He blew a kiss up toward the ceiling. “But I’m proud to tell you that Lou, our little Luigi, is going to culinary school. We’re going to have a real chef in the family.”
I turned to Lou and mouthed, “Little Luigi?” He shook his head, and the rest of the family started coming up to congratulate him. I was introduced to a few of his cousins who I didn’t know, and it got a bit chaotic for a while.
After a bit of this, Lou grabbed my hand and led me outside, into the crisp night air. The glass door closed behind us, keeping the noise locked inside. “God, I love them, but I need a minute or two.”
We walked over to my car, and I leaned against it, watching him as he stared up at the night sky.
“How did things go with your dad?” he asked.
We’d both agreed it would be best for me to talk to him in person. Some things you couldn’t do over the phone. Lou had the idea for the internship. He had a friend who knew someone who worked for the foundation. I was still wrangling out details with the school to make sure I got credit for it, but it gave me another semester down here with him. And by the end of that, he’d hopefully have been accepted to culinary school, and I’d be back at RU. We’d have to do the distance thing for a while, but it would be worth it.
“Actually, a lot better than I expected.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. “Come here, you’re too far away. And I’m cold.”
He wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his warm body against mine. “Better?”
“Much.”
I breathed in deeply, almost laughing because he still smelled like food, although this time it was freshly baked bread. He must have been busy in the kitchen.
We kissed, his breath hot against my mouth.
“We’re gonna do this, huh?” he said with a little laugh.
“Yeah.” I swallowed. “Lou, I gotta tell you, I think I love you a little.” I hadn’t planned to say that, but I couldn’t help it, not with him wrapped around me, the two of us alone in the parking lot, with the wind rustling the leaves of the nearby trees and the cars speeding by on the highway. It felt right.
“Good,” Lou returned, “because I love you a little bit too.”
I laughed and punched his arm. I was exactly where I needed to be.
More from CC Bridges
Heaven Corp: Book Two
Henry “Hank” Abraham’s privileged status in the floating city of Heaven lets him flout Morality Laws that control the lives of others. But when he wakes up in the arms of another stranger, only bodyguard Ian Caldwell’s quick thinking saves his life.
Though Ian’s from the low levels and the labor class, he’s used to dealing with the pampered society of Heaven. He’s assigned to pr
otect Hank while angels, cybernetically modified humans who defend Heaven, investigate the assassination attempt. Doing his job means Ian must ignore his growing interest in Hank. Acting on their mutual attraction would certainly get Ian reprogrammed, something neither of them can afford.
When Hank follows Ian to a popular BDSM club in Downside and his ID chip is lost during a nearly fatal mugging, he finds himself locked out of Heaven. As Ian fights to get them home, rumors of impending war begin to circulate—along with more troubling news that Ian is wanted for Hank’s murder. While struggling to keep the man he has come to love safe, Ian must find out who’s behind the plot and if it’s a catalyst for war or just a convenient excuse.
CC BRIDGES is a mild-mannered librarian by day, but by night she writes about worlds of adventure and romance. A fan of science fiction and comics since the ripe old age of twelve, she incorporates her love of genre into her work. She writes surrounded by books, spare computing equipment, a fluffy dog, baby toys, and a long-suffering husband all in the tiny state of New Jersey. In 2011, she won a Rainbow Award for best gay sci-fi/futuristic novel.
Website: www.ccbridges.net
Facebook: www.facebook.com/ccbridgeswriter
Twitter: @ccbridgeswriter
E-mail: [email protected]
By CC Bridges
Exodus
Love in the Time of Hurricanes
Teddy Bear Christmas
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Love in the Time of Hurricanes
© 2017 CC Bridges.
Cover Art
© 2017 Brooke Albrecht.
http://brookealbrechtstudio.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-63533-333-6
Published March 2017
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America
