Page 86 of Operation Sunshine
So he promised the only thing he could.
“I’ll come back. To you. To this.”
And prayed it would still be true when the stage was over.
The restaurant hummed with its usual end-of-day energy: plates were cleared, counters wiped, the aroma of fresh bread lingering in the air. Franco lingered near the bar, the weight of the day pressing lightly on him. His announcement earlier had gone smoothly enough, but the laughter hadn’t erased the flutter of nerves in his chest.
“Get over here, chef,” Ollie called out from where he and Willow stood by the bar. There was a mischievous glint in his eye. “We need a proper toast.” He popped a cork, then filled three glasses.
Franco beamed. “Champagne?”
Ollie snorted. “You wish. It’s only prosecco.”
Franco raised his eyebrows. “You’re really lowering the bar, aren’t you?”
Willow rolled her eyes. “Loweringthe bar? I think we’re setting it appropriately. Now come on, before we drink it all ourselves.” She held a glass out to him.
Franco took a sip.
“So,” Ollie began, his tone light, “what went wrong with Ben?”
Franco froze. “Wrong with Ben?” he echoed, forcing amusement into his voice. “Nothing’s wrong with Ben. He’s perfect. Fartooperfect, if you ask me.”
Willow leaned closer, her eyes sharp. “You’re leaving, Franco. And we’re supposed to believe it’s nothing to do with him?”
He hesitated, swirling the prosecco in his glass as if it held all the answers. Finally, he set it down and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not Ben,” he admitted, his voice low. “Leaving… going to Florence… it’s something I need. Something I’ve wanted for years. And yet, every step I take toward it, I think about him. About what he means to me.”
Ollie and Willow exchanged a glance. “So it’s not about anything he did?” Willow asked softly.
Franco shook his head. “No, it’s about what I’m afraid of. Losing him. Losingme. And if I tell him… if I say how I feel… I don’t know if I could bear it if it didn’t work out. So I’m going to leave, quietly, without saying a word. Maybe that’s the safest way to keep it all intact.”
Ollie clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Classic Franco. Always protecting everyone else, even if it means breaking your own heart.”
Willow reached over, squeezing his hand gently. “You care about him.”
Franco almost choked. He’d passedcaringweeks ago.
“We can see it, and it’s obvious Ben feels the same,” Willow continued. “But you’ve got to let someone else in, Franco. Let him see you. It might not be perfect, but that’s the whole point, isn’t it?”
Franco laughed, the sound a little wistful. “Perfect never was my style.” He looked at them, his chest tight. “But maybe… maybe I could learn to try.”
Ollie raised his glass. “To learning. And to not hiding anymore.”
Willow clinked her glass against Franco’s, smiling. “And to Florence. May it be the adventure you deserve.”
Franco smiled. “To Florence. And… to the one I can’t stop thinking about.”
He drained his glass, a mix of nervous excitement and longing curling in his belly. He wasn’t ready to tell Ben yet, not tonight, not now, but letting someone else in, even if it was just Ollie and Willow, made the weight a little lighter to bear.
At least someone knows what’s in my heart.
He ignored the quiet voice at the back of his mind that said that someone should be Ben.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Franco woke with a heaviness in his chest, as if someone had placed a stone there overnight. The air felt chilly despite the warmth of Ben’s arm draped over him.
Tomorrow night.
