Ella focused on Matt with her brown eyes wide and serious. She put a hand on his arm. “They shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable.”
Matt stared at her without understanding that level of concern, then got it. He quickly shook his head. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. Not about that.”
“You looked uncomfortable,” Richie pointed out, too gleeful about it. Probably because he’d successfully moved the conversation away from that bachelor party.
“I don’t like being the center of attention,” Matt reminded him, with all of them looking at him, Santi watching him closely the way he had then.
“In my defense,” Santi broke in, “I didn’t send them over. That is their standard behavior around a gorgeous straight man.”
He was looking directly at Matt but Matt couldn’t help the way his smiled locked in place at that word.
He darted his gaze away.
Richie was flushed and beaming at his fiancée. Matt stared hard at the cake as it was sliced up and put on plates, then looked back. Santi wet his lips but didn’t say anything.
He was always gentle with Matt. Withholding and careful. If Matt were the sort of person to feel reckless and do wild things, he would wonder what Santi would do if Matt told him everything he’d ever thought.
“This has been great,” Richie said suddenly, glancing to something or someone beyond them. “But my dad is waving to us. We’ll catch up later. All right?”
Matt nodded automatically as the happy couple walked away. It was him and Santi again. He looked over and Santi immediately turned his head.
“Got something to say?” Matt asked, low and unsure. Not how he’d meant to ask.
Santi turned back. “About what? Your cousin’s choice in a bride?”
“No.” Matt paused, because his mother had hinted about Ella but Ella herself had just confirmed it. “Well, yes, but later. No. Not her.”
“My birthday party?” Santi was either missing the point or missing it on purpose. “You didn’t say anything then either, if you were uncomfortable. They really shouldn’t have groped you.”
“I didn’t care about that,” Matt informed him tightly. “I still don’t. Wine tourists have done worse.”
“That’s—” Santi’s scowl was magnificent. “What? Theytouchyou?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Matt gestured shortly like Nonna Rose when she was pissed. He spoke in a furious whisper. “Stop ignoring it like everyone else does. I know my family likes to show they care by either ignoring all the places I won’t fit or trying to sandpaper them into something polished and acceptable, but I don’t need you to go easy on me. I know I’m a liar and a pretender. You can say that. I’m not clever but I can handle some Santi witticisms.”
He was breathing as hard as he did after a run. He didn’t know why this was important to say now, but it was. And he needed an answer.
Santi studied him, all sorts of emotions flickering across his face. It looked like a trick of the light, like an old film projected across his olive cheeks and proud nose that made his eyes bright. Then he lowered his gaze to the floor.
“Maybe I’m tired of witticisms.” He looked back up through his lashes and his curls but Matt couldn’t read his expression. “Maybe it’s nice to have a break from them and I enjoy being kind to you.”
A current went through Matt’s heart and shot up his spine. His hands and feet tingled, like coming in from the mountain snow to a warm house. “You aren’t pitying me?”
Santi raised his head. His eyes were intensely pretty, his hair shiny and his mouth lush. “You thought I waspityingyou?” he demanded, obviously barely remembering to keep his voice down. He reached up, nearly touching Matt’s chest before he dropped his hand. “Because Iwasn’tmean to you?” The words were shaky, and Matt didn’t realize why until Santi stepped closer. This time he did touch Matt, a light grip on his arm. “Because I don’t jump on everything you say like they do? Oh, Matty. What have they done to you?”
“I…” Matt’s throat tightened. He was a pretender, but he was as honest with his own thoughts as he could be and survive. But this wasn’t something anyone said. Not even Matt, not out loud.
There it was all the same. Matt was allowed to be weird and not fit in as long he acted useless and happy and slightly unaware. That meant jokes at his expense that had gotten worse over the years.Richiethought he could make them now, and Matt supposed he could. No one was going to stop him. Matt was getting older, still living in the guest house, still avoiding being pulled into the family business as much as he could. He worked in the shop, where tourists felt free to be condescending and rude, and he came home to more of the same.
This wasabuse. Matt thought that word, one of the many he avoided.
“I—I need to go.” His polite voice cracked. “Excuse me, won’t you? I need a minute.”
“Matt.” Santi tightened his hold on him, but Matt pulled away and turned to make his way through the guests. He passed his mother, saw her staring at him in concern and then reach for him, but he pushed past her too. He kept going until he was outside again and he could breathe.
Part Three
He didn’t know what time it was. He had his phone on him and it had buzzed a few times, but Matt hadn’t checked it in a while. He’d sat under the stars and a maple tree, aware that his family would believe he was sulking and Santi would think he was having a break down.
