Page 33 of Between the Lines

Luca still wanted to be left the fuck alone.

To that end, Theo stayed in his room for the rest of the afternoon. He showered, read for a while, called Miranda, and—in an unprecedented move—took a nap. His body, it appeared, had decided he was on vacation. Then, at the appointed time, he headed down for dinner.

What he hadn’t considered when he’d agreed to eat at the Majestic, was that Luca would be waiting tables. But of course he would, because Jude and Don were trying to run the place alone this season, and as soon as Theo entered the dining room he realized his mistake. Luca looked up from serving drinks to an elderly couple at one of the three occupied tables, and stilled. Theo froze in the doorway. Crap, what must Luca think? He’d have to wait on him. Theo considered turning on his heel and fleeing, but that might look worse. Besides, he’d promised Don and Jude he’d eat there and after the debacle with the spaghetti he couldn’t run away again. So, not knowing what else to do, he gave Luca an awkward nod and seated himself at a small table by the open French doors. His skin crawled with awareness, as if everyone in the room were looking at him—knowing he’d done something foolish, something wrong. A jug of ice water sat on his table, glistening with condensation. He poured himself a glass to wet his dry mouth, and dared a glance at Luca. But he was gone.

A moment later the kitchen door swung open and Don appeared, heading toward Theo with a smile. “Good evening, Theo. What can I get you to drink?”

Caught between relief and disappointment, it took him a moment to collect his thoughts well enough to study the wine list and order a glass of Malbec to go with his steak.

“Excellent choice,” Don agreed, and disappeared back into the kitchen with a smile for his other customers.

Theo blew out a frustrated breath and stared out at the garden. Stupid, to end up in this situation. It made him uncomfortable in his skin, not knowing how best to act. Should he apologize for upsetting Luca? Probably. But right here? Probably not. He wasn’t even sure Don and Jude knew about his fling with Luca—he couldn’t imagine Luca had told them, and it was hardly Theo’s place to do so.

The evening breeze stirred the drapes, cool against his flushed face, and he wondered, again, why Jude didn’t put tables out on the porch. Or even down in the garden; it would be lovely and cool amidst the greenery...

“Your Malbec Mendoza.” Luca’s voice startled him, and he glanced up to see Luca setting the glass on the table before him.

Cringing at the awkwardness of the moment, he murmured, “Thank you.” Luca nodded, his face flushed and his mouth a hard line. Not happy. Should Theo say something now?

“I—” he began, just as Luca said, “Do you—?”

But before either could say more, Don appeared from the kitchen with Theo’s meal. “Here we are!” he announced grandly, and Luca gave Theo an indecipherable look and slipped away, disappearing back into the kitchen without another word.

Theo watched him go in frustration.

No doubt it was a well cooked meal, and Theo might have enjoyed it if he’d been able to concentrate on eating. But he was too aware of Luca coming and going from the kitchen, their eyes meeting awkwardly across the half-empty dining room, to pay much attention to his steak. The distance between them felt wrong, painful, and Theo longed to cross it but didn’t know how—or whether the attempt would be welcomed. He didn’t dare risk it. So, instead, he concentrated on eating, pushing the slimy mushrooms to one side, barely tasting his food. Nonetheless, he praised it expansively to Don when he came to clear his plate away, and hoped to make a quick escape.

Unfortunately, Don had other ideas and slipped into the chair opposite. “May I have a word?” he said, keeping his voice low and one eye on the kitchen door.

“Of course,” Theo said, his own gaze drifting in the same direction. He could well imagine what Luca would make of this little tête-à-tête.

“I hope you don’t think this is inappropriate,” Don said, hands folded tightly on the table in front of him. “But when you speak to Jude again, could I suggest you do it without Luca present?”

Theo’s gaze flicked back to Don. “Why’s that?” As if he couldn’t guess.

Perhaps Don caught the accusation in his tone because he raised a pacifying hand. “Don’t get me wrong. Luca’s a good kid. A bit moody, I guess, but he—Look, I won’t lie: Luca doesn’t like me. That’s a fact.”

And for good reason, Theo thought, but only said, “Is that so?”

“Truth is, he struggled with the idea of me and his mother marrying. And I understand that. I do. It had been just the two of them for a long time and I was the interloper. I...” He sighed, looking down at his hands. Wide, practical hands, Theo noticed. A mechanic’s hands, maybe. “Well, I guess you could say I made some mistakes with Luca. I put my foot in it early on and he’s never forgiven me.”

Put his foot in it? Theo couldn’t let that slide. “I understand you’re uncomfortable with his sexuality,” he said. “That you consider him—I should say us, I suppose—to be ‘sinners.’”

Don flushed, red creeping up his neck into his cheeks. Embarrassed, Theo wondered, or offended? “I—Yes, I said that once. It was a mistake.” He frowned at the table, speaking so quietly Theo had to strain to hear. “Look, I can’t pretend I don’t struggle to understand his...his homosexuality. But it’s not just that. The way I see it, Luca has responsibilities here, a duty to his mother, and frankly he’s neglected them in favor of chasing around the country with a string of meaningless—”

He broke off sharply, giving Theo a quick look. And this time it was Theo’s turn to flush. Did Don know about his fling with Luca? Even if he did, there was no need to feel embarrassed or ashamed, yet he found himself staring at the white table linen, feeling more exposed than was comfortable. Perhaps because, to him, their tryst did—or had—meant something. More than it should, probably.

After a pause, Don carried on. “What I’m trying to say, Theo, is that I don’t much like Luca’s promiscuous lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean I think he’s a bad person. Heck, he’s Jude’s son. If it was up to me, we’d be friends. But Luca? Well, I guess he can’t forgive my early missteps.” He huffed, halfway between a sigh and a laugh. “To be honest, I think it suits him not to. I doubt he’d have forgivenanyonefor marrying his mother. And that’s the point here. Luca’s hostility to the sale is as much about me as anything else.”

Theo didn’t answer; he suspected Don was right about that much at least.

“You have to understand that Jude feels like she hurt him—that our marriage hurt him—and that makes it hard for her to think straight about any of this. And she has to.” Don’s mouth tightened as he leaned forward, speaking more urgently. “Shehasto, Theo. She can’t afford not to. So if you could find time to meet with her alone, without Luca muddying the waters, I sure would appreciate it.”

The kitchen door swung open then, and they both started guiltily as Luca entered with desserts for the couple on the far side of the room. His gaze raked over Don and Theo, his expression as inscrutable as ever. But whatever Don saw, it was enough to make him end the conversation.

“Anyway,” he said, “I appreciate your time, Theo. Now let me get you a piece of Jude’s pie before it’s all gone.”

The pie was, indeed, delicious and Theo let his mind wander while he ate. Don’s assessment of the situation was similar to his own: Luca’s opposition to the sale was about much more than the hotel. But sitting there in the faded dining room, gazing out over the rambling gardens, he couldn’t deny there was something about the Majestic: a sense of rootedness, of place, and of history that had a certain magic. Don aside, he could see why Luca didn’t want to let her go, even though he had no intention of saving her. He could also see why the Majestic represented more to Luca—and to Jude—than a business or a family legacy. It was the thread binding them together, and the schism pulling them apart.

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