Page 18 of The Pretender
We exit the car, thanking our driver after we get our bags, then Deo stands still, gripping the handle of his suitcase.
“Are you okay?”
He looks over his shoulder at me, nodding. “Let’s do this.”
SIX
amadeo
As expected,the front door to my family home is unlocked, so after twisting the knob, I step inside, gesturing for Balt to follow me.
I pull my phone from my pocket and text my mother, telling her to come to the front door for a package. I hear her long before I see her, yelling at my dad that “Deo sent me something.” When she turns the corner and sees me, she stops in her tracks.
“Hi, Mom.”
Her face crumples into tears as she opens her arms and walks toward me. I step into her embrace, inhaling her signature magnolia scent. “My baby.”
She squeezes me so tight I can barely breathe. “Mom.”
She steps back, resting her hands on my shoulders. “What a surprise. What are you doing here? How long are you visiting?”
This is it. “I was thinking about staying. I’m home for good.”
Her jaw drops. “What? Home?”
“If that’s okay.”
“Larry!” she yells, glancing over her shoulder. “Larry, get in here!”
My dad comes jogging around the corner in a panic, screeching to a stop when he sees me. “Deo.”
“Hi, Pop.”
“Son.” He walks over and offers me a brief hug. “What a surprise.”
“He’s home, Larry,” my mom says. “For good.”
My dad’s face goes blank for a second, and I brace myself for the interrogation I totally deserve, but as his brow creases and he glances past me at Balt, that’s not what happens. “You’re home?”
“To help with the business, if you still want me to.”
The hug is bigger now as he pulls me close, rubbing my back. “Welcome back, kiddo. Who’s this?”
I’m so relieved—at least until the shock wears off. I turn, smiling, and hold my hand out to Balt. He takes it, smiling in a way that makes my knees a little weak.
“This is my boyfriend. Balt Cassiano.”
“Pleasure to meet you both,” Balt says, offering his hand.
My dad nods, shaking Balt’s hand. “Italian?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Larry Benedetti. My wife, Janice.”
“Welcome to our home,” my mom says, giving me an approving wink. “Are you staying with us too?”
“For a while,” I say. “If that’s okay.”
