Paolo put the big bottle back and reached for the smallest one. There were other things he needed too, but he lacked the brain power to remember them.
The till was at the front of the shop. He joined the queue and scrolled through his phone to occupy himself while he waited. Nonna had sent him a garbled message from her ancient Nokia. No words, just random symbols and letters. He deleted it and opened the WhatsApp from Toni instead. Regretted it. Jesus. How many times is he gonna ask for Luis? Four, so far, and Paolo was running out of fibs to explain his absence. Sooner or later, he’d have to tell Toni the truth, but not yet. An Italian inquisition was something else, and Paolo didn’t have the spoons.
Gaze still on his phone, he moved forwards with the queue and straight into the back of the woman in front. “Sorry.”
The old woman shook her head. “You young people, obsessed with your phones. It’s a wonder more of you don’t get hit by the bus.”
Paolo opened his mouth to argue, but a tall figure at the till caught his attention. Dressed in sweats and a familiar grey hoodie, the man had a profile Paolo would’ve recognised anywhere. Luis. Somehow, Paolo had convinced himself he really would never see him again, and he was ridiculously unprepared. His heart flipped, his mouth went dry, and his phone slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor.
He bent to retrieve it. The old woman beat him to it and passed it over with another shake of her head.
Paolo grabbed the phone and lurched to his feet, but Luis had already left.
Milk forgotten, Paolo ditched it on the nearest shelf and fled the shop. He dashed out into the rain and checked in every direction for which way Luis had gone, but he was nowhere to be seen. Cursing, Paolo took a chance and headed in the opposite direction to Luis’s bedsit and towards his own flat, hoping beyond hope that perhaps Luis hadn’t gone home.
Despite the rain, the high street was lively with drinkers spilling out of the pubs and bars. Paolo shouldered through them and out through the park by the post office. The wind was fierce. Coupled with the howling rain, it forced his head down, and he was almost right on top of the bench before he spotted the slumped broad shoulders and hunched back.
For the second time in ten minutes, the sight of Luis stopped Paolo’s heart. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Logic told him to walk on by. That if Luis wanted to see him, he’d have come knocking by now or picked up the phone. But ordinary logic didn’t work for Luis. If Paolo wanted to fix this, he had to do it himself.
He took the long way round the bench so Luis would see him coming, but with his head down and his eyes half closed, Luis didn’t seem to notice.
Paolo stopped in front of him and crouched down, resisting the urge to put his hands on Luis’s knees, but barely. “Hey.”
Luis blinked. “Hey.”
“Why are you sitting in the rain?”
“Why not? Cheaper than a shower.”
“Aren’t you cold?”
Luis shrugged. Of course he did, and fondness warred with frustration in the gigantic Luis-section of Paolo’s heart.
Paolo shook his head. “You’re nuts.”
“Am I?”
“Yeah. It’s fucking freezing out here.”
“Good job I’ve got your hoodie then, isn’t it? Unless you want it back? Is that why you’re here?”
“What do you think?”
“I think I should give you the hoodie.” Luis emptied the pockets of keys, his phone, and an unopened pack of cigarettes. “You want your phone too? I kind of forgot it was yours in the first place.”
“It’s not mine. I gave it to you.”
“You lent it to me so you could get hold of your employee.”
“Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like that’s all we’ve got. You don’t want the job, that’s fine, but it doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”
“Friends don’t push each other around like I did to you. And they don’t bring trouble to your door, so I’m guessing you should call me something else.” Luis stood and unzipped Paolo’s hoodie. He took it off and held it out. “I’ll give you your phone back as soon as I can.”
“I don’t want the phone, and I don’t want this either.” Paolo pushed the hoodie away. “Why are you being like this? What’s he done to you?”
“Who?”
“Your dickhead brother. I know he’s holding something over you.”
“You don’t know shit.”
“Then tell me,” Paolo snapped. “If you don’t want me, I can’t argue with that, but don’t walk out on a job you actually like because of him . . . or because of me. You don’t have to suck my dick to work for me. I told you a hundred times the two things aren’t connected.”
He was shouting by the time he was done, and some of the handful of people who were in the park swivelled round to look at them.
Luis didn’t seem to notice. He stared at Paolo like he’d grown mutant horns. “You think I left because of you?”
“No, I think you left for lots of reasons, and I get that most of them are none of my business, but I got up in your face and backed you into a corner. I know that now, and I’m sorry.”
Luis said nothing. His gaze grew distant again with zero clue of what he was thinking, and the will to keep fighting him drained from Paolo so abruptly he almost fell over.
He belatedly realised he was still crouching on the ground and stood, facing Luis at eye level. “Look, I’m the one who escalated what happened at work. So don’t be apologising for that when it was my fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It—” Paolo swallowed down another wave of frustration. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. All I’m saying is there’s a job for you if you still want it. No strings, no obligations. And no more twenty questions, okay? I get that you don’t want me in your life like that.”
Luis shook his head. “You don’t know shit about what I want.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t!” Luis’s voice rose enough for it to crack, and he flinched, as if he’d never heard himself shout before. “I just fucking can’t. I love— Fuck! Just leave it, okay? Leave me. Whatever you think you want from me, it’s not fucking worth it.”
Paolo took every syllable of Luis’s expletive laden despair like a bullet to the gut, and helplessness replaced his anger. He didn’t know what to do. He never had. All he’d done was flail around in his feelings with no clue what they actually meant in real life. He loved Luis, of that he was certain, but what good was that when Luis was drowning in something Paolo could never be part of?
Tears stung his eyes, making him thankful again for the rain.
Luis shivered, and Paolo couldn’t bear it. He found Luis’s cold hand, squeezed it tight, and uttered words he’d spoken once before on a night that had felt like the beginning of something, not the end. “Come home with me . . . please?”
19
Luis was soaked through, they both were. Paolo boiled the kettle before he remembered he’d left the milk at the shop. Genius.