Chapter 2

“Grab me a coffee and some of Cyn’s madeleines on your way back,” said Pop.

Dante rolled his eyes. Cyn’s full name was Cynthia and she owned the bakery around the corner. Pop had a crush on her, but he’d never ask her out or anything, convinced he was too old for romance.

“Thanks, loser,” said Georgina, Dante’s younger sister, when he opened the door for her as she was searching for her keys in the depths of the gargantuan tote-bag-purse-thing she hauled everywhere with her. “Where you off to?”

“Wanna go to the bank and get Pop coffee and cookies?” Dante waved the three bank bags at her.

“Daddy should get his own cookies and a date. I mean, Mom has been dead for what? Fifteen years?” Georgina pushed past her brother like she was still that gangly little twerp, all limbs and no coordination. She wasn’t skinny in the slightest, but she wasn’t heavy either, just short. The top of Georgina’s head was about the same distance from the ground at Dante’s arm pits, but he hadn’t seen her wear any shoes that didn’t have some sort of heel since the day Pop let her start buying her own clothes.

“I don’t push him on it, George.” Dante chewed on his bottom lip for a second. Georgina had only been seven when Ma passed, but Dante had been a senior in high school. He had more memories of his mother and he and Pop handled the loss the same way, throwing all their energy into Pizza 3.14because working was easier than dealing with the emptiness Ma’s sudden death left in the family.

“Can’t go to the bank.” Georgina pulled her cellphone from her bag and shoved it into the back pocket of her black skinny jeans. She whipped her unruly dark curls into messy top-knot and applied Chapstick to her lips. “Daddy wants me to help with interviews.”

“Why?”

Georgina stuck her tongue out at Dante. “I’m a good judge of character.”

Dante snorted. “Considering all your ex-boyfriends, I don’t think so.”

“Least I have ex-boyfriends.” Georgina glared at him.

“If I’m not back in a half hour, put the dough in the fridge.” Dante shoved the deposit bags into his backpack. He let the restaurant’s back door slam behind him.

His little sister was a pain sometimes. The bank was only three and a half blocks away and the weather was fair. Dante forewent taking his motorcycle and decided to walk. The time would help him calm down some. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had dates. As he walked, Dante mentally calculated how long it had been since he’d last been serious about a guy. Three years. Yeah, he’d had plenty of hookups, but Grindr wasn’t exactly the best way to meet someone looking for the level of serious Dante wanted. For most of his life getting married and having a family hadn’t been an option, but the SCOTUS ruling made the future he didn’t know he so desperately wanted possible.

Dante was luckier than most LGBTQ people he knew. He had friends that had been completely disowned by their loved ones, or worse. Dante’s coming out story was probably the most boring and embarrassing one on the planet. When he was fourteen, Ma found the one issue of Blueboythat Dante owned stuffed in the back of his sock drawer while she was putting away laundry. His parents gave him the talk, which wasn’t as much of a talk as it was a lecture about safe sex and the dangers of STDs. Ma read everything from a pamphlet she got at the health department while Pop sat there and occasionally nodded in agreement. Dante stopped them both when they started stumbling through an explanation of the mechanics of anal intercourse and that was mostly due to Dante never wanting to imagine his parents doing it.

Pop was right about the bank. There wasn’t even a line and it took all of five minutes to make the deposit. Dante stopped off at the bakery and got a coffee for himself along with Pop’s and a half dozen of Cyn’s madeleines. Dante was halfway out of the bakery door when he saw the guy staring at his cellphone and barreling straight for Dante.

There was no time to warn the human torpedo or to get out of the way and the stranger collided with Dante going full speed. Both men went down in a tangle of limbs and a flurry of madeleines. It all seemed to happen in slow-motion and Dante couldn’t do anything to stop gravity form taking them both down to the pavement. Thankfully, the hot coffee hit the ground before hitting anything else.

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?” The stranger scrambled to his feet and extended a hand to Dante

Dante looked up. The halo of early morning sunlight in the guy’s blond waves…must be what angels look like.The stranger was dressed in a white shirt and tie, khaki pants, and a pair of chucks. He had the slightest bit of stubble at the bottom of his chin, like he’d missed a spot shaving. Dante couldn’t decide if that was intentional, but it made him look young, no older than twenty-five, maybe. The stranger held Dante’s gaze; hazel eyes—more green and gold than brown—endless. “I’m real good.” Dante took the man’s hand.