Chapter Eight

“Would you stop fidgeting?” Lance asked as they walked up the steps to Richie’s mother’s house. It was an impressive, two-story rock structure. It spoke of old money, which made sense considering that Richie’s family came from old money. Richie still wanted to make a good impression, even if it was just his family. He knew how judgmental they could be.

“I haven’t spoken to my mother in a long time,” Richie said as he flattened a hand down the front of his button-down shirt—smoothing the imaginary wrinkles.

“And this is a great way to start mending fences,” Lance said with a shoulder nudge. “Ring the bell.”

Richie hesitated a few more moments, finding comfort in the support Lance let him borrow. With an exaggerated huff, Lance reached forward and pressed the doorbell. When he took a step back, Richie looked at him, annoyed.

“Well, I’m starving and I don’t want to be out here all damn night,” he said, though not unkindly. He shot Richie an amused smile and he couldn’t help but return it.

Richie opened his mouth to respond, however, before a word could come out, the door was jerked open and a tiny figure flying into his arms—knocking him slightly off balance.

“You’re here!” Kendra exclaimed after she released her hold on her brother.

“I told you I would be,” he muttered as he straightened his shirt and gave his sister an annoyed glance. She was paying no attention to him but already talking adamantly to Lance.

“I heard you got Ith Fest!” she exclaimed excitedly. “You’ve totally got to help hook me up with some tickets!”

Lance chuckled at the girl’s exuberance. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said as she pulled him into an excited hug.

There was no mistaking the resemblance between Richie and his sister. While she was much shorter—pushing 5’2”—Richie was over six foot. Their facial features and demeanors were even similar. If not for the age difference, they very well could pass for twins.

“There’s no need to hover in the doorways,” a woman’s voice said coolly from the doorway. Lance felt Richie stiffen beside him—completely frozen in the presence of his mother. It was hard not to be. Francesca Moretti was a force to be reckoned with. Her features—though beautiful—were stern and cold, almost distant. Even now, as she stared down at them, Lance could feel the slight chill she was giving off, however, he didn’t miss the softening in her eyes as they settled on her estranged son.

Maybe there was some hope for a mother-and-son reconciliation after all. He gently nudged Richie forward with an elbow to the ribs. He stood back with Kendra as Richie closed the distance and stopped in front of his mother.

“Hello, Momma,” he said softly.

Her features softened and her eyes grew watery as she spoke something in Italian and then pulled him in for a hug.

When they released from their embrace, there were tears in everyone’s eyes, including Lance’s. It made his heart ache for his own mother. Richie smiled, and Lance didn’t miss the watery look in his friend’s eyes. It was that moment, the moment when Richie smiled and mouthed thank you that Lance knew that 100% without a doubt he had more than a simple crush on Richie. He was head over heels in love with him.

His heart filled with joy but also broke a little bit more.

***

Dinner was pleasant enough. Lance chatted and joked with Richie’s sisters while Richie and his mother caught up on everything. Things were settling in nicely and felt almost normal. It wasn’t until after he’d said something to Lance that Richie noticed his mother watching them with her hawk eyes. His stomach flipped anxiously and his nerves began to get carried away, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.

Finally, as they were making their way to the front door and saying their goodbyes, his mother pulled him to the side. “I need to speak with my son for a moment, Lance, dear.”

“Oh, of course,” Lance said. “Thank you so much for inviting me. Everything was brilliant. I can see where Richie gets his cooking talents from.” Richie flushed under Lance’s praise.

“Thank you, dear. It’s kind of you to say. You’re welcome here anytime—with or without my stubborn one,” she said with a genuine smile.

“Good night,” he said as he walked down the steps and climbed into Richie’s jeep.

Richie took a deep breath and turned to face his mother, unsure of what he was about to see. When he turned he was surprised to see her usually hard features completely soft. Tears spilled over her lashes and down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry for everything,” she said, choking on a sob.

“It’s okay,” Richie said, not really sure of what else to say.

“No, it’s not. I’ve been set in the old ways for entirely too long. Your sisters—all of them—made it abundantly clear that by not moving with the times, I was in real danger of losing you. I don’t want that. I’ve already lost your father,” she whispered.

“I don’t want that either, Momma,” Richie said, a lump forming in his throat.

“Then we’re good?”

Richie nodded and looked over his shoulder before looking back at her. “We’re good.”

She pulled him in for a hug and he felt like a kid again. She smelled like vanilla and cinnamon—two smells that he had always loved.

“I’ve got to get going,” he finally said, pulling away but her grip on his arm stopped her.

“Wait.”

“What is it?”

“Are you in love with him?”

Richie was taken aback by her question. His heart sped through his chest and panic set in. The two of them had just mended fences. “What? Of course not! I’m not gay,” he said.

She eyed him with open scrutiny. “I see the way that boy looks at you, and I’ve seen how you look at him when you think no one is paying attention. A woman knows.”

He shook his head and gripped her arm firmly. He chuckled. “Mom, I can assure you, I’m not gay. He’s my best friend, and well, he’s been there for me. I was just with a woman a couple nights ago.” Okay, so maybe saying he was with Stace was a little more than misleading, but he hadn’t said he’d slept with her. He had been with her.

You’re mincing, his mind scoffed.

“You know how the church feels about homosexuality,” she said, lowering her voice. She heaved a low sigh. “But, you can’t help who you love.”

Love?

“Mom. Lance is my best friend. Gay or not, he’s pretty much the most amazing man I’ve ever met—but that is as far as it goes.” Even as he said it, the words felt like ash on his tongue.

“You fidgeted most of the night.” Her warm smile and soft demeanor almost had him wanting to break down and tell her the truth.

She didn’t say anything more and only nodded. But there was something in her eyes that spoke to him. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked something like acceptance?

Feeling confused by the bizarre conversation with his mom, he brushed a kiss against her cheek and promised to call. As they drove in silence back to their apartment, her words were ringing through his head.

“Love.” The word love playing over again and again. “The way that boy looks at you and the way you look back.” Once again, his mother’s words echoed loudly as he fought every temptation to let his heart be known.

“You okay? What did your mom say?”

Richie snapped back to reality. He pretended to watch the street lights and signs go by as they approached the apartment.

“Uh, she just apologized. You know, mom stuff. I didn’t know how amazing she was until just now.”

“Wow, that’s a big change. Maybe we should break open a bottle of wine in celebration.”

Richie chuckled softly as tears began to fill his eyes. Just get it out. It’s killing you. He’ll think it’s because of the evening. Just let it go.”

Richie choked back the urge to cry. Now that was really asking for trouble. They finally arrived home and Richie quickly headed to the bathroom to clean up his face.