The city was warming up. Still not shorts-wearing weather yet, but we were getting there. I no longer had to put on seven different layers just so I could keep my blood from freezing in my veins.

Okay, maybe that was a little too dramatic, but it had gotten really cold. Especially at one point last week when the temperature had dropped out of nowhere for a few days. Thankfully, I was sleeping over at Zane’s and had his huge body to keep me warm under the covers at night. Seriously, he was a human space heater. The amount of heat that man generated was insane.

It wasn’t the only night I had slept over, either. Come to think of it, we really only slept apart probably four nights out of the past three weeks. I don’t know how it became such a regular thing, but I do know that it did, and I wasn’t complaining.

It really started that night I went over Zane’s, the same night he had received that package. It had rocked me to the core, and I could tell Zane was shaken by it, too. I slept over that night, and the next, and the next. He stayed at my place some other nights, and then I went back to his. It felt good, waking up and feeling him next to me, knowing that the same thing would happen the next time I woke up.

Today, though, I was spending the night at my parents’ house. It was my pa’s birthday tomorrow, and I told them I’d take them on an early-morning flight to the Hamptons, one of my dad’s favorite places to spend time at. They lived across the bridge in Jersey, inside of a beautiful gated community that my mamma always called “Pig Fair” even though the official name of the community was Fig Pear Lakeside. She always said that was a dumb name and thought pig fair was much funnier, saying she could imagine the Albertsons next door to her wrangling around mud-covered pigs inside of their pristinely clean mansion. My mamma always wondered how many housekeepers they had to hire because keeping things as clean as they did was a full-time job for a multitude of hands.

My parents’ house was smaller than the Albertsons’, but only because my mamma had insisted on picking the smallest option she could. And smaller by not that much. Instead of a seven-bedroom mansion, my parents had a five-bedroom home, with a basement that served as a fitness center and a private backyard with a massive in-ground pool. She hated the idea of taking money from me even though I wanted to buy her the biggest place on the block, so she thought a smaller option would be less of a financial ask and also less of a burden. She refused to hire any help for around the house, so she often busied herself with cleaning while listening to one of her favorite talk shows in the background.

My phone started to ring as I pulled through the big black gates that marked the entrance to the community. I reached between my legs (where I liked to keep my phone, okay?) and saw it was Zane calling.

“Hey, Zane.”

“Enzo, I’ve got bad news.”

“Not another package,” I said, pulling into my parents’ driveway, the cobblestone sounding beneath my tires. The last time Zane called me with bad news, it was to say a serial killer had left a surprise package on his front doorstep. That was a really dark day and one I never wanted to repeat again.

I recalled the note that had been left with the unicorn: “Heard the queer Scooby gang was back on my trail again. Have fun. I know I will.” Thinking about it was enough to send chills crawling down my spine.

The fear of the Unicorn was enough to paralyze the entire gay community. Gay clubs were empty most nights, and the gayborhoods were all on high alert. Everyone always checked on their neighbors, and people tried to make sure no one had to be out on the streets by themselves at a late hour. The NYPD tried to assure everyone they were working hard to protect the community, but with their track record against the LGBTQ community, it was a little doubtful. And to know that the monster’s eye was turned in Zane’s direction filled me with a constant hum of anxiety mixed with dread.

I still had to believe that the cops would find the killer before he struck again. And if they didn’t, then Stonewall Investigations would find the monster. Hell, I’d bet they would find the killer before the cops. Zane had a few detectives working on it and said that they were the best brains around. Hopefully the right person would be put behind bars and the terror would be put to rest once and for all.

“No, no,” Zane answered, “thank God. No note.”

I gave a sigh of relief as I put my car in park. “So what is it?”

“About Ricardo’s case. I was supposed to be meeting with Herberto, the ex-gang member.”

“Right. What about him?”

“He’s backing out. He doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. Thinks he’s being tailed and doesn’t want to risk getting his fingers and toes cut off if he gets caught being a rat.”

“Merda. He won’t talk at all?” I could feel a sense of defeat settle on me like a net meant to trap me. “The jury meets in two months to deliberate a verdict. I don’t know if we have a shot if we can’t get this guy to testify against the gang leader. I’m starting to think that the prosecution found something on him, too.”

I had met with the prosecution a week ago because they wanted to offer a plea deal. We flat out denied it because Ricardo felt solid in his innocence and I had thought Herberto was going to bat for us. Now things had changed, and the decision couldn’t be taken back. Whatever happened from here on out would fall squarely on my shoulders. I needed to pull together the defense and get Ricardo off. No leaning on witness testimonies.

“When one door closes, another one opens.”

“Since when do you speak to me in riddles, eh?” I got out of my car. Mamma was already running outside, a thick coat being held shut with two hands against her chest. “What does that mean?”

“I’ve got someone else I want to interview.”

“Son!” She was on me before I could even close my car door. “You’re going to get sick! Your jacket isn’t even shut. Jesus, Enzo.”

“Zane,” I said, focusing on the phone call while my mother walked around the car and stopped at the trunk. “Mamma, I didn’t bring any laundry.”

“Enzo, are you sure? Everything’s clean?”

“Yes, Mamma, I promise. Everything’s minty fresh.”

“Minty, huh? You like that tingle in your briefs?” Zane toyed on the phone. “Tell Mamma Sofia I say hello.”

I focused back in on the call. I couldn’t get distracted. Zane was being vague, and I didn’t like it. There was a reason why he was holding back, I just wasn’t sure what that was yet. “Wait, who are you going to go see?”

“Someone who could have answers. I’m actually parking now. I’ll call you when I’ve got those answers.”

“Zane.” I was getting frustrated, but I wasn’t going to push anything. Zane was a grown man, and he knew what he was doing. He’d tell me if something was wrong. Hell, maybe he was being secretive because he was planning a surprise party. Most likely that wasn’t the reason, but I liked being optimistic. “Stay safe.”

“I will,” Zane said and hung up.

“Mamma, I swear, I don’t have any dirty laundry for you to do.” She stepped away from the trunk, her arms crossed and her head tilted. I cracked a smile and took her in my arms for a tight hug. She was a tiny Italian firecracker, with dark red hair that matched her fiery personality.

“Oh, son! Enzo, look at you, honey, you’re too thin. What, being a famous lawyer isn’t enough to put some good food on the table?”

I cocked my head, laughing as my mamma smiled and took me into another hug, this one tighter than the last. I was perfectly healthy and well sized (although I could stand to lose a few pounds off the middle). She just loved to feed me and get me even bigger. Aside from food, she also had a love for comedy and didn’t mind throwing around some jokes, her sarcastic edge always cracking everyone up. It reminded me a little of Zane, who wasn’t scared to pull the punches when it came to joking. I loved that about him, and I learned how to take it from my mother.

“Okay, come in, come in. I’m just teasing you.”

“I know, Mamma.”

“Who was that on the phone, eh? Business or pleasure?”

“A little bit of both, actually.”

“Oi!” my pa called from his seat on the couch as I entered the foyer. He was sitting cross-legged and petting Francis, their ancient golden retriever who had more white hair than gold. She struggled up onto her feet and slowly ambled over to my side, where I gave her some really great head scratches.

“Ciao, Pa,” I said, getting a couple of licks on the cheek from Franny.

“He was just talking to the one on the phone, Matteo!” She practically sang out “the one” as if she were in a Disney movie all of a sudden. My mother jumped twenty steps ahead whenever it came to my relationships. She had always wanted to see me with someone (although no one would probably ever be good enough by her standards) and always got incredibly excited when there was a prospect of someone serious on the horizon.

I laughed as I got up from my squat and wiped at my cheek. “Relax, there, Ma. He’s a good one, but it’s still early.”

Pa had gotten up from his seat and came over to give me a hug, although his hugs were more like slaps on the back hard enough to dislodge a lung. Even though he was getting up there in age, he still had all the strength he had back when he worked in the fields. Thankfully, my success allowed him to basically retire from all that backbreaking work before he actually did break his back.

“Can he cook?” Pa asked, holding both my shoulders. I always felt like a kid when he did that—didn’t matter if I was a thirty-two-year-old man or a fifteen-year-old kid.

“You know what… I’m actually not sure.”

“Get rid of him,” Mamma said as though I were canceling a cable plan.

“Mamma, meet him first. I promise you, you’ll like him. I know I do. It was amore a prima vista.”

“Bene.” Mamma put her hands up in the air. “If you say so. I’m not the one sleeping with him.”

“I certainly hope not,” Pa said.

“Let’s, uh, go eat and stop talking about my sex life.” I disappeared into the kitchen while my parents laughed behind me. It was nice being back under their roof, with the constant love and attention. I wasn’t going to lie, I loved it. Italians weren’t exactly known for flying the coop very early, and when we did, it was always nice to fly back to the coop more often than not.

Especially now, after that phone call with Zane. Even with my parents’ lighthearted jokes and carefree attitudes, I was still feeling a sense that everything wasn’t right. There was something up, and I felt like Zane was in the center of it.

Amore a prima vista. Love at first sight… Goddamnit, Zane. Don’t do anything stupid.