Page 55 of Duke for the Summer

“What’s his name?”

“We’re still deciding. I think he looks like an Elio, but Antonio’s mom is really pushing for Lorenzo, after her father.”

Jacopo chewed his lip. “I think I like Elio, too.”

This was all wrong, trying to tell them now. His ability to speak dried up when he was around all three sisters, even on the best of days. And if he said something, he’d ruin it, take away from Mirabella’s happiness and cast a shadow over the whole thing. Jacopo didn’t know what to do. He stared down at the baby, eyes welling up despite Gracie’s admonitions. He was fighting the urge to cry, but he also realized he was fighting the urge to sneeze, the smell of pollen clogging up his sinuses. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but there was a massive floral arrangement spilling off the bedside table and onto the floor.

“Pretty flowers,” he said.

“Oh, thanks.” Mirabella looked confused. “Nate didn’t tell you he sent them?”

“Nate? I–no. How did you know I talked to Nate?”

“Talked to him? Weren’t you with him, in Venice?” Mirabella asked.

“Jacopo was in Dublin for some mysterious thing,” Gracie said from over his shoulder.

“What? That’s not right.” Mirabella studied Jacopo’s face, her eyes murky. “You must have gone to Venice with him. Because–because you two are in love, right?”

Cold water flooded Jacopo’s stomach. He stood up, too rapidly, and bumped into the vase, and there was an absurd moment where he wrestled with it, trying to keep it from tipping over, before finally getting it to stand upright again. Yellowpollen had sprayed all over his shirtfront, and his ears were ringing as he said, with a stupefied sense of surreality, “What?”

Gracie laughed. “Those really must be good drugs, Mirabella. There’s no way–”

“Isawyou holding him in the kitchen,” Mirabella said stubbornly. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I could tell it was romantic, and Gracie told me that Nate is gay, and I kind of always thought you didn’t like girls, so–”

Gracie crossed her arms. “You can’t be serious.” But there was something speculative in her expression as she focused her gaze on Jacopo. Alessia was staring at him too, her knitting abandoned in her lap. “Right? Jacopo?”

He swallowed. His hands were shaking, his insides a buzzing mess, as if he’d eaten a beehive. He sat back down. “It’s true,” Jacopo said.

“What in the fucking balls,” Gracie said flatly.

“Oh,” said Alessia. “So many things make sense now.”

Mirabella started to cry.

Several things happened at once then. The baby squawked, which then turned into a full-blown shriek, which in turn woke up a panicked Antonio, who rocketed up out of the chair, saying, “What is it, what’s wrong, is it the baby?” He stood there half-awake, hair plastered to one side of his face, hands raised to face any emergency. Antonio looked from his wife, who was still crying, to the baby, who was red-faced, struggling and fussing. “Mirabella? What’s going on?”

“I’m not upset, I’m not–here, Antonio, take him please.” Mirabella took a deep breath, wiping her nose. “I’m not upset. I’m just sad you didn’t tell us sooner, and I’m sorry because I think your life has been harder than we thought, and it hurts to think of you feeling like you couldn’t tell me–and–and–God, it’s so many hormones, you know, and the pain pills–”

Jacopo grabbed her hand wordlessly.

“What is happening?” Antonio asked, bouncing the baby. “Jacopo? When did you get here?”

“I was right!” Mirabella told him, wiping her eyes on the bed sheet. “Jacopo’s in love with Nate. Itoldyou.”

“Oh.” Antonio looked bewildered. “But that’s–good, right? We like Nate.”

“Oh myGod, am I the only one who had no idea?” Gracie exclaimed, throwing up her hands. “And I’m the one who spent the most time with them. I can’t believe this! Jacopo–Jacopo, what’s wrong with you, what are you–”

But Jacopo was laughing, laughing uncontrollably, gulping for air as if he had just been pulled from underwater, and he was shaking, too, as all the fear and tension and dread of the last seventeen-odd years poured out of him in waves. He felt a pair of arms wrap around him, felt Gracie’s hair brush his face, and her body shake as she laughed too. “Porco cane, Jacopo, you big stupid. You’re crazy! Why didn’t you say anything? I mean, I understand why, but–you know your sisters love you, right? And we’re happy for you. And Nate! I can’t believe you ended up withNatesomehow. How on earth did you manage that? Oh my God. We have to tell Mamma. And–what do they say in English?” She put on an exaggerated American accent, saying, “Papà’s totally going tofreak out.”

A hand squeezed his shoulder, and he looked up to see Alessia standing beside him. She smiled gently.

“Even you?” Jacopo asked. “You–you go to church every Sunday, you–”

She shrugged. “You’re my brother. And Marcello has a cousin in Milan who’s nonbinary. Which you would know, if we ever talked. We might be from a small town, but we don’t have to be small-minded. Besides,” she added, with an ironic expression, “now I know why you kept stealing my issues ofCioèwhen we were kids.”

“Oh my God. I didn’t think you noticed.” The special edition one with Leonardo DiCaprio on the cover was probably still living under his mattress. Jacopo groaned, and wiped a hand over his face. It came away wet, and there were still traces of pollen on his palm. His face started to itch, and he laughed again.

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