“Where’s yours?” he asked.
I retrieved it from my pocket.
“I know one thing for sure,” he murmured and slipped the bracelet onto my wrist. “This doesn’t end with you returnin’ to New York. It can’t.”
Cazzo, was he serious?
Soon as the bracelet was on, he cupped my jaw and kissed me hard. “I need this weekend with you, baby.”
I shuddered, a storm of emotions surging forward, and wrapped my arms around his middle. “Don’t make it the last.” I felt assertive enough to say that, at least. “I’m not strong enough to rip off the Band-Aid with you and Camden.”
“No goddamn ripping,” he agreed against my lips.
I let myself get lost in the kiss and took comfort in our promise of this not being over. At the same time, I wasn’t new. I knew how these things worked. Maybe I’d come down here to visit in a couple months. We hadn’t gone to his restaurant yet—I wanted my date.
Maybe they’d fly up to see me too. But eventually, one visit would be the last. Life got in the way of most long-distance relationships. The odds of one surviving that wasn’t even based on love weren’t in our favor. They’d go on with their lives. I’d hopefully go on with my own back home.
It was gonna hurt like hell, but anything was better than saying a final goodbye on Monday morning.
“Daddy!”
August and I jolted awake and nearly knocked our heads together. A second later, rapid feet padded across the floor outside the bedroom, and I reached over and flicked on the lamp on the nightstand.
Warm light flooded the room, causing me to squint at the form that appeared in the door.
Camden with a bed head.
“Spider or bad dream?” August asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Spider,” Camden mumbled. “I woke up thirsty and saw it on the wall.”
August nodded and climbed out of bed. “I’ll get rid of it, darlin’.”
“Thank you, Daddy. Can I sleep in here with you?”
I extended my arm as August said of course.
Soon, I had Camden crawling up in my arms, and I pulled the duvet to his chin.
“Yay, you’re still wearing the bracelet,” he said softly.
“It’s never comin’ off.” I kissed the top of his head and gathered his hand on my chest. At dinner, he’d worn an entire collection of bracelets on his own wrist. Well, he’d run off to put them on once he’d discovered that August and I loved our gifts.
I didn’t have the heart to tell the boy he’d misspelled one of the Italian terms of endearment I’d given him this week. The bracelet was almost more perfect with the mistake. But there were several others too, from topolino and ciccino to darlin’ and baby boy.
“Which ones are you wearing now?” I noticed he had two left.
“My favorites.” He smiled sleepily and held up his wrist. “Ragazzo and little one.”
I hummed and gave his forehead a kiss too. “You’ll always be my piccolo ragazzo.”
He sighed happily and burrowed himself deeper into my embrace.
After we heard the toilet flush, it wasn’t long before August returned and said the spider was gone. Then he joined us in bed, and we sandwiched Camden between us.
“I’ll give it ten minutes before he declares it’s too hot and Daddy’s snoring too loudly,” August said with a pinch of amusement.
I closed my eyes and grinned, and Camden giggled. Ten minutes—better savor the moment, then.
“I don’t recall Daddy and me giving you permission to be this cranky.” I spoke against the top of Camden’s head as I hugged him to me, making it impossible for him to escape.
I knew coming out of a regressive period took its toll on him, but I had to admit he’d reached a whole new level of cute. He’d joined us for breakfast on the patio a few hours ago looking like a grumpy teenage gamer, with his sweats, hoodie, shaggy hair, and black-framed reading glasses. And as much as the Little in him enticed me, I wanted to get to know this Camden too. The young man who worked as a content creator at a gaming company, the one who produced cooking tutorials and cursed like a sailor, the one who sported inked cuffs around his calves of his favorite Star Wars characters and had his eyebrow and nipples pierced.
The one who knew August better than the man knew himself.
“You’re fogging my glasses,” Camden groused against my chest.
I slipped my hands into his hair and tugged back a little, forcing him to peer up at me with the same scowl he’d worn throughout breakfast.
“There. Fog’s gone.” I dipped down and kissed him briefly. “Anything else we can do to help August?”
He should be back from the store any minute, and he’d put us in charge of fixing a lunch we could eat while we prepared for the barbecue.
Camden looked over his shoulder at the kitchen island. “I don’t think so. It’s a little early to do the salad.”
The meat was already soaking in different types of marinade, though. Pork tenderloin, chicken wings, and New York strip. The last one rested mostly in oil, sea salt, beer, and black pepper. Then there was a plate of sausage, burger patties, and lamb kabobs too. August had essentially emptied the fridge and freezer last night.
Camden had provided a list of sides he was going to make that included roasted potatoes, vegetable skewers, coleslaw, steakhouse fries, onion rings, and mac and cheese.
Not for the first time around these two, I felt a bit useless. I’d insisted August take my credit card before going to the store, to which he’d raised a brow, then chuckled and walked off.
If they ever did come visit me in New York, I was going to up my game.
“Look at that fuckin’ tan!” Nicky exclaimed, right after stepping off the bus.
I grinned and walked over to him. Growing up, Pop always called us Irish
