Page 49 of Truth or Spare

“I cannot make any promises,” Theo said seriously, then notched his chin at the stove. “Let’s see this chicken.”

Dewey removed two plates and unwrapped the foil, revealing their dinners with an impressed chuckle. “I’d buy that in a restaurant,” he said as he admired the thin strips of basil sprinkled over the sauce.

“Ach so! This is a pasta dish!” Theo said excitedly. “Pasta is my favorite and what I make the most for my brothers.”

“I love pasta.” Dewey was encouraged to find they had another thing in common. And he could make pasta without embarrassing himself. He had at least a dozen boxes of Barilla noodles in the pantry and considered showing Theo.

“Italian food and pasta is…home food,” Theo explained. “Austrian food, for me, is more formal and can be heavier. And the things I like are a lot of work. Mamma cooked mostly Italianfood, obviously, so I know how to cook what she taught us and I mostly made whatever my brothers would eat.”

“I haven’t tried a lot of Italian food, other than the basics: pizza, pasta, spaghetti, lasagna… But I like those. I’m not that picky,” Dewey said, making Theo look sad.

“I don’t think those things you tried were very Italian. The pizza here isstrange.I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it.” His face twisted as he shook his head. “Americans make a big deal about how much they love pizza but you get it so very wrong. Even in New York City.”

Dewey made a sympathetic sound. “We didn’t get a Pizza Hut in Oslo until I was a teenager so I didn’t eat a lot of pizza as a kid. I’ve always thought it was just okay.”

“No, no, no, no, no…” Theo covered his face, whimpering. “Even the Pizza Huts in Europe are terrible. I will try, if I can get the ingredients. If not, I will take you to Italy soon so you can see what a pizza really is.”

“We’ll see…” Dewey chuckled as if Theo had made a joke but feared he was being serious. “What kinds of things do real Italians eat?”

“It depends.” Theo held up his hands. “Where we are from, in Umbria, we are known for our truffles and meats. But Leo is vegetarian, so we ate a lot of beans and lentils and pasta, obviously.”

Dewey’s head cocked. “He’s a vegetarian? I don’t know why, but that surprises me.”

“Leo is very concerned with the planet and its animals and the future,” Theo explained.

“We should all be concerned,” Dewey murmured and Theo pushed out a hard breath.

“I invite anyone who isn’t to spend an hour with Leo. He willmakeyou concerned. But I love my brother more than I love thisplanet, so I’ve always done my best to help him in his quest to save it.”

“I love that about you. I mean, it’s really…great, or…you know…” Dewey said to his boots as he blushed and squirmed, then went to hide in the fridge. “Cass said there’s wine in here. Kind of need it now.” He opened the door and gasped at the bottle on the taller, middle shelf. She had already removed the cork and stuffed a wad of paper towels in its place so Dewey wouldn’t have to ask Theo to open the wine. “Thanks, Cass,” he said softly, making a note to be more patient with her and grateful that she cared so damn much.

He filled the glasses waiting on the counter and they toasted Cassie before carrying them to the table. Dewey pulled out a chair for Theo, then went to retrieve their plates. The candles she’d put out in the dining room were lit when he returned, making him wince as he set Theo’s plate in front of him.

“I didn’t even notice those, but I think I was supposed to light them before we sat down,” he confessed, but Theo waved it off.

“I spotted the long, clicky lighter by your fork,” he said quietly, draping his napkin over his lap like he was in a fancy restaurant. “This looks lovely!” He turned the plate as he admired it. First, Theo tried a bite of the chicken, humming in approval as he chewed. “Very nice. This is a lot of sauce, though,” he noted, but Dewey thought it looked like a normal amount. Theo’s brows pinched when he stuck a noodle with his fork, then brought it to his lips. He chewed and looked uncertain as he studied his plate, then glanced at Dewey. “This is a pasta dish?” he asked, sounding ambivalent.

“Is this not pasta?” Dewey asked as he inspected the noodle on his fork.

“Jein…” Theo shrugged, but Dewey could tell by the way his nose wrinkled that he wasn’t impressed.

“Is Barilla not pasta?” he asked, his hopes for the pantry plummeting. Theo had been happy with whatever Cass had served him in the past, but Dewey didn’t know howhe’dfeed Theo on their days off if Barilla wasn’t real pasta.

“Is that what this is?” Theo whispered and sounded scandalized.

Dewey frowned as he pictured the boxes on the shelves in his pantry. Cassie bought most of his groceries while she was buying hers and that was what she used. “Probably… Isn’t it Italy’s #1 brand of pasta?”

Theo coughed and shook his head. “I have seen the commercials and the ads because they are everywhere, but it is because Barilla is cheap and easy. My mamma would not buy that. She would just make the pasta,” he said, shrugging. “I will make the pasta from now on and I will show Cassie. But we will tell her this was a success and that I have proposed again.” He nodded as if the matter was settled before removing the napkin from his lap and draping it over the plate. “This wine is pleasant,” he said as he held up the glass, offering Dewey a salute and taking a long drink.

Dewey slid his glass next to Theo’s. “Have mine, too. I’m not much of a drinker. Just a few sips of beer now and then. I’m usually too tired, and I have to be careful with my meds,” Dewey explained, causing Theo to groan.

“I realize now, in hindsight, how…bescheuert it was to assume you had a drinking problem,” he said, but Dewey shook his head.

“I can see why you might have thought that and you were really sweet about it.” He reached for Theo’s hand and gave it a gentle, appreciative pat. “But I didn’t need that kind of intervention.”

“I’m so glad to have it all out in the open,” Theo said with a relieved sigh. “I can’t believe you told your nephew I took yourmaidenly virtue, though.” He leaned back in his seat, laughing incredulously. “I couldn’t be more proud of my man.”

“None of his business but I don’t want him thinking I’m scared.” Dewey muttered, rubbing his face against his shoulder as it grew warmer. “Of doing that or people knowing I might,” he added awkwardly. “I really like when you call me that.”

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