Page 56 of Cross Ice

Nico

“You seeing Evan tonight?” André asked as we walked toward the parking lot after practice.

“Yeah. Having dinner.”

“Tell him things before he has to ask.” He lightly punched my arm.

“Working on it.”

“Good,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “Have fun.”

André grinned and headed toward his car. I stood there in the early afternoon sun, feeling nervous, hopeful, and terrified all at once.

I had hours to kill before I needed to leave for Evan’s, and I spent them failing to distract myself. I tried watching game tape, but I couldn’t focus. Tried playing a video game, but couldn’t get past the first level. Finally, I gave up and just started getting ready. I took a shower and pulled on my best dark jeans and a button-down shirt.

I grabbed my keys and headed to Nonna’s Trattoria, the Italian place downtown that had the best homemade pasta in the city. Ordered way too much food—lasagna, chicken cacciatore, caprese salad, garlic bread, tiramisu, and a Chianti—and drove to Evan’s apartment with the bags filling my car with the smell of basil and tomatoes.

When I knocked on his door, my heart hammered so hard I thought he’d be able to hear it.

He opened the door, smiling. Just that. No hesitation, no guardedness, just glad to see me. “Hi.”

My pulse kicked up. “Hi. I brought Italian.”

“It smells amazing.”

I followed him inside. “I might have overordered.” I set the bags and the bottle of wine on his kitchen island.

Evan looked inside the bags and laughed. “This is enough food for six people.”

“I didn’t know what you liked.”

“I like all of it.” He inhaled deeply and hummed his appreciation. “Let me get plates and glasses.”

We moved around his kitchen together, a dance of reaching for silverware and filling water and wine glasses. He set the table while I unpacked the food. It was domestic, ordinary, and perfect. My throat tightened.

This. This was what I’d almost lost.

We sat across from each other at his small dining table. We’d eaten here before, talked here before, but tonight felt different, and we both knew it.

“This looks incredible.” Evan served himself some lasagna.

“Nonna’s has the best Italian in the city. I took my parents there when they visited last year and I’ve been going back ever since.”

“Your parents came to visit?”

“Yeah. They flew up from San Diego and stayed for a long weekend. Went to a game, met some of the guys, the whole thing.”

Evan took a bite of lasagna and made a small sound of appreciation. “This is fantastic.”

“Right? Everything there is amazing.”

We ate in silence for a moment, and then Evan said, “What are your parents like?”

“My mom’s intense,” I said. “In a good way. She’s a high school math teacher, so she’s used to managing chaos. And she doesn’t take shit from anyone. Growing up, she could shut down any argument with one look.”

“Sounds terrifying.” He sipped his wine.

“She is. But she’s also the most loving person I know. She’d do anything for me and Miguel.”