Page 33 of Duke for the Summer

“He’s not weird. He’s a perfect little baby, aren’t you? No, Nate, what’sweirdis that my condoms keep disappearing. And I’m pretty sure it’s not the cats who are taking them.”

Nate sighed, tipping his head back.

“Are you and Jacopo having fun?” Thea asked.

“Thea, please tell me you haven’t said anything to–”

“Gracie? No. She just thinks he’s some weird recluse, not that he’s into guys. But honestly, I don’t think it would be a bigdeal for her. She’s pretty liberal for small-town Italy.”

Nate uprooted a blade of grass, wrapping it around his finger. “It’s not serious, Thea.”

“Isn’t it? You’re friends with his sister, and his family loves you. Besides, I like him a lot better than that finance bro who always acted like you were stupid–”

“Yes, thank you. I know. Thanks for reminding me of my horrible taste in men.” Nate grimaced. There was a reason he hadn’t dated in awhile.

“Well, I’m just saying. You practically live here, now. Maybe you should give it a shot.”

“He’s moving away soon,” Nate said. He tossed the scrunchie for Gnocchi, watching it arc off into the blue sky. “It’s a summer fling. Just like you and boat guy. What ever happened with him, anyway? You’re not planning on keeping in touch, are you?”

“Aw, boat guy!” Thea tossed her hair. “Nah. He’s so sweet. But we have nothing in common, and I think my OnlyFans would break him.”

“As it would many a mortal man,” Nate intoned.

“So I guess we’re both just hot sluts having summer romances,” Thea concluded, holding her fist out for him to bump. “I won’t say anything. But don’t get your heart broken, Nate. I don’t want to have to come out here and clean you up off the castle floor.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not.”

And he really wasn’t. Sure, it was a little distracting, sitting across the table from Jacopo that night at Thea’s going-away dinner, watching his fingers play up and down the stem of his wine glass. And it was hard to look Beatrice in the eye as she asked if Nate would like another serving of risotto. But a lot of the awkwardness evaporated as the night went on, and after hugs and cheek kisses and showing everyone how well hisknee could move now, sans compression sleeve, Nate was able to fade into the sidelines. It was a bigger group than usual. Alessia and her family had come, and Zio Beppe and Zia Grazia, and even Nonna, a tiny old lady with an immaculate manicure and a helmet of shiny orange hair, who bustled around supervising the children and somehow seemed at least ten years younger than her son, Jacopo’s dad.

Nate stayed mostly silent, sipping his wine as dinner went on and the conversations blended together, some in Italian and some in English. At his side of the table, Thea was telling Gracie, Mirabella, and Antonio about baby showers, which apparently weren’t a thing here.

“It’s bad luck to give gifts before the baby comes,” Gracie said. “We do all the celebration after it’s born.”

“We putting on the door of the house, a–how do you say it?” Mirabella looked at Jacopo. “Fiocco?”

“A ribbon,” Jacopo said. It was the most he’d spoken since they’d sat down. His eyes were sleepy, and his plate still had a mound of risotto on it, though Nate noticed he’d been going through a lot of wine. “Pink for a girl, or blue for a boy.”

“Cute!” Thea said. “Do you know what it’s going to be?”

Mirabella rubbed her belly and said something to Gracie.

“At the doctor they said a girl, but Nonna Stella swung a pendulum over the baby and said it’s going to be a boy,” Gracie translated. “So we’re not sure.”

“Well, genderisjust a construct,” Thea said, winding a strand of hair around her finger. “That being said, I would trust the village witch. I’ll send you a present after the baby’s born. Nate’s going to be here for it, right?”

“Sure,” he said, though he didn’t actually know. July was nearly over, the year rushing too quickly into fall, and his life after September third was a blank space that he hadn’t begun to fill in. “When’s the baby due?”

Mirabella smiled across the table. “Metà settembre. Maybe Jacopo same birthday.”

“That’s so soon,” Nate said. “I didn’t know your birthday was coming up. We’ll have to do something. Have a party.” He glanced at Jacopo, biting his lip. “You’ll still–”You’ll still be here, right? Jacopo had said he would start making plans once the castle was transferred over, but surely he wouldn’t just–disappear. Not immediately. Not without some kind of goodbye.

Jacopo took a long drink of wine. He almost looked like he was in pain. For a moment, he seemed about to say something, but then Thea was showing Mirabella baby slippers on her phone, and the moment had passed, the conversation moving on.

After dinner, most of the men went off to watch soccer in the living room, and Nate found himself getting dragged along. It wasn’t his thing. The only sport he cared about was skateboarding, and that was really just out of nostalgia. Jacopo evidently hadn’t been invited, and Nate felt unmoored without him. He could feel his skin getting more and more leathery by the minute, from all the cigar smoke, and people kept clapping him on the back and yelling things in his ear. The testosterone levels in the room were through the roof; Nate would probably have to re-trim his chest hair after all this. As soon as his glass was empty, he excused himself, pantomiming that he was going to get another drink, and wandered out to the backyard, where the women had gathered to talk and watch Alessia’s two kids and Nonna’s miniature poodle run around, chasing a ratty old ball that they’d found somewhere.

Jacopo was off in a corner, smoking, looking at his phone. Nate tried to catch his eye, but then Thea was pulling him away. She’d propped up her phone on the cinder block wall along the edge of the patio, and after a few dropped calls and a series of audio issues, Barb and Dave’s pixelated faces appeared on thetiny screen.

“Thea! Natey! It’s so good to see you!” Barb squinted into the camera, a knitting project draped over her lap.

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