Page 51 of Good as Gold
“Leila?” Matteo asks. “Want a margarita?” He gives me a wink.
“No thank you,” I say, pushing the menu away. “Could I have a cranberry and soda?”
“Of course.” He reaches for a glass.
“I decided I’m not drinking for a while.”
“Interesting,” my brother muses. “Any particular reason?”
I don’t look at Matteo, but I can feel his smirk. “I live over a bar now, and it’s a nice one. I don’t want to feel like coming in here every night is hazardous to my health. So I’m laying off the sauce.”
“Fair,” Nash says, accepting his beer from Matteo. “Now tell me what else is going on in your life.”
My face begins to burn as I imagine what he’d say if I answered him truthfully. “Not much,” I say. “Let’s talk about you instead.”
* * *
Matteo didn’t lie when he said that the new pizzas were fantastic. Who knew that Caesar salad belonged on top of a pizza? It clearly does.
And I’m strangely glad that I was forced to see Matteo again. That’s the only way to make things normal between us again, right? Getting past my embarrassing question is the only way to go.
So after Nash leaves, I pull a book out of my bag and read at the bar. Matteo keeps my soda glass filled, and I enjoy a spicy novel with the pleasant hum of conversation around me.
This is better than sitting alone upstairs in the church-like quiet of my apartment, wondering why I married a man who didn’t appreciate me enough to be a good husband.
Eventually the place quiets down. When I lift my head, I’m the last customer in the bar, and Matteo and another bartender are closing out the cash registers.
I close my book and drain my drink. “Don’t I owe you for this last soda?”
“Nah. Nash closed out your tab ages ago. How are you two doing, anyway?” Matteo asks, bracing his hands on the bar.
This has the unfortunate effect of firming all the muscles in his upper body. I make sure to keep my eyes on his face while I answer the question. “I’m good. It was nice to catch up with Nash. He lives in Boston, and we don’t see much of each other anymore.”
“Huh. Does he know about your big plan?”
I pause a moment until the other bartender ducks under the bar and heads for the kitchen with the last batch of dirty glassware. “No,” I tell Matteo. “Nash is bossy. Might try to talk me out of it. He might be my younger brother, but he doesn’t understand his role.”
“He doesn’t bow down to the queen?” Matteo asks, grabbing a rag and wiping down the bar one last time.
“Exactly.”
He laughs. “Okay, but when do you plan to tell your family?”
“My mother knows,” I tell him. “But the rest? I guess when I can’t hide it under a baggy shirt anymore.”
He freezes mid-wipe. “That’s sneaky. But sooner or later everyone will know. And they’ll be nosy as fuck. This town…” He shakes his head.
“You’re not wrong. And it’s not like I’m immune to gossip. But this is too important to me. I’ll handle it. Actually, I was working as the bartender at a faculty event in college…”
His chocolate-brown eyes lift, and he smiles. “I forgot you worked as a bartender in college. Why aren’t you back here helping me?”
“Oh, please. I wrangled four-year-olds all day. But get this—on one of my shifts, I watched a male professor eye a female professor’s belly, and then say, ‘I didn’t know you got married.’”
“Uh-oh.” Matteo shakes his head. “Even I’m not dumb enough to say that.”
“Right? And this woman gave him the sneer he deserved. She said, ‘I thought you were so educated. It’s actually possible to have a child without a husband.’ And instead of laughing it off, he doubled down by asking her who the father was.”
“Bruh.” Matteo cringes. “No.”
