Page 40 of Santa’s Little Faker
Oh.
“I’m sorry I thought you forgot something important about me.” It was the most logical reason he’d want an apology, so I was glad when he nodded and his drama receded a bit. “I was distracted.”
And wasn’t sure how to explain the Christmas issue…little me could’ve done it but big me felt ridiculous.
“Will watching me eat alfredo bother you?” Bastian set the menu down as he seemed to ignore the holiday part. “I can get the lasagna instead if it does.”
Since I was the only Italian guy on the planet who didn’t like alfredo sauce, I’d learned to be tolerant. “No, it’s fine.”
That had him nodding slowly but I wasn’t sure he was happy with the answer. “What do you think of lasagna? I can’t remember anything specific about that.”
“Because no one makes it for family dinners.” They made lots of other good stuff, so I didn’t mind either way. “It takes too long and no matter how you make it, mom says it’s stupidly expensive for her cheap-ass relatives.”
Bastian barked out a laugh. “I bet she said it exactly that way.”
As I nodded, he shook his head. “But you’re fine with it?”
He asked the weirdest questions.
“Yes.” Could I ask why we were doing conversational circles around his food choices?
No.
Okay…what would Terrence say about the situation if he and Enzo were sitting there instead?
Neither of us had allergies, so it couldn’t be about not wanting to kill me like that dinner Leander had with the biker guy that was allergic to shellfish.
That’d been a disaster.
We were both having garlic, so it couldn’t be a kissing thing, even though garlic made everything better, so it could only make kissing better.
Oh.
“I’d like a few bites of it if you want to share.” Ha. He nodded. “You already know what I want, but the rigatoni with sausage is really good. We ate the whole menu a dozen times before the restaurant opened, and when he couldn’t find a brand of sausage he liked, he made his own.”
No one in the family ate pasta for a month after the restaurant finally opened.
“I didn’t know that.” Bastian frowned at the menu again, making me wonder if he didn’t like sausage.
I should’ve been more suspicious and less nice.
“Dinner’s figured out, so how subtle would you like the conversation about Christmas decorations to be?”
He was sneaky.
“What kind of dessert do you think I’d like?” As far as changing the subject went it was terrible, but he was the one debating being subtle.
“That bad, huh?” Leaning back in his chair, Bastian gave me what I thought was a concerned Dom expression.
Terrence had told Leander that was a bad sign because it was when they got stubborn.
Bastian liked being stubborn.
“What do I get if I cooperate without being a pain in the butt?” If I couldn’t get out of it, I was going to get something for it.
Terrence was really smart…and liked to talk to himself a lot.
“Are we talking dessert, a traditional date reward, or something…sillier?” Bastian was trying to be nice about not saying the Daddy stuff around other people, but it always sounded weird to me.
