Page 84 of Flake It Til You Make It

“Everyone wanted to come and see you, darling,” his mom said, greeting him again, with a big firm kiss against his cheek. “Now, introduce me and your father to your very cute boyfriend before he runs away.”

“He’s made of stronger stuff than that,” Rocco said, even though he was a little afraid of how terrifying this might be for Taylor. Taylor who only had his dad . . .who apparently was not coming for Christmas. Or if he was, Taylor had certainly not said so.

But then, Rocco hadn’t expectedhisparents—or a whole van-full of his relatives—for Christmas either.

“If he’s dealing with you, yes,” Luca said dryly. “I hope you don’t mind, I think Dario and Gabe have just commandeered your espresso machine to keep this brood caffeinated.”

Rocco just shrugged. He knew how much the Morettis loved their espresso.

“Let me know what I can help with,” Oliver said. “Do you need me to—”

“Yes. A few batches of scones? I use your recipe, of course. And get the sweet dough mixed up for chai rolls?”

“Got it,” Oliver said. “I’m sure I’ll find everything well-organized.”

Rocco threw his arms around him, hugging his friend tightly. “Thanks. Someone taught me well. I’ll join you in a minute?”

Oliver grinned. “Maybe ten minutes.”

Rocco winced and then nodded, taking his mom’s hand and leading her over to where Taylor was still leaning up against the back counter. He didn’t look apprehensive at all, only interested.

“Mom, Dad, this is Taylor. Taylor’s the deputy mayor of Christmas Falls, and uh . . .” Rocco hesitated, but Taylor tilted his head, smiling, like he was very curious what Rocco was about to say. “And my boyfriend.”

Taylor’s smile made it clear that Rocco had said exactly what he’d hoped he might.

“It’s so lovely to meet you, and a politician! Well.” Beatrice looked thrilled. “I don’t suppose you’re Italian in the bargain.”

Taylor grinned, extending his hand to shake, but Dante pulled him in for a hard hug, instead. Taylor just went with it, hugging Bea right after. “Sadly, no. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright, Rocco has enough hot blood for both of you,” Bea said.

“I think he’s just perfect the way he is,” Taylor said, wrapping an arm around Rocco’s shoulders. He nudged him. “Do you need help with any of the baking? I’m not much of a cook, but I can follow directions.”

“No, no, Oliver’s already in there, probably revolutionizing the way I organize my spices. He’ll help. And after this lot is caffeinated and fed, Luca will get them out.”

“Alright. I can stay to help, if you want . . .”

“No, no,” Rocco said. Pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Ignored theooohingandahhhhingfrom the gathered Morettis. “You do what you need to do. We’ll meet up later?”

“You sure you can?” Taylor eyed the group with a bit of trepidation.

“Yes,” Rocco said firmly. “We’ve got alotto talk about.”

“And not talk about,” Taylor teased.

“Well, I think Oliver’s got you pretty well situated,” Luca said from across the bar as Rocco finished up a latte and a cappuccino, placing them on the counter and calling the name on the ticket.

“More than well situated. The man’s a genius. Also threw some ham and cheese hand pies in that sold out basically theminute he put the tray in the case. I’ll be adding those to the regular menu.”

“That’s my husband for you,” Luca said warmly. “But really, because you haven’t been asked enough times already this morning, howareyou doing?”

“Good,” Rocco said firmly. “And surprised.”

Luca grinned. “You really weren’t expecting us to descenden masse? It’s your first Christmas away from your family, and on top of that, wedidmiss you.”

“I missed you guys too.” He hadn’t even realized how much until they were all here, so bright and vibrant in their inherent Moretti-ness. Talking over each other and hugging and laughing and teasing. Sharing a new recipe. Congratulating each other on another great year in the restaurant business.

They were a force. A wild, slightly insane force, but a force nonetheless, and he loved them.

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