A Taste of You Read Free Page B

Garrett have stuff to catch up on. I’m going sightseeing while I have the chance. It’ll only be my first time once, right?”
    Giancarlo agreed it was a nice day for sightseeing and tried not to reveal how happy the prospect of not eating lunch with Matt made him while he got the kid out the door.
    He turned back into the apartment and headed toward the kitchen, where Garrett had appeared in the doorway.
    “He’s great, huh?”
    What was he supposed to say to that?
    “He seems nice.”
    Sorry, but he just couldn’t gush over Garrett’s latest crush. Up close, Garrett didn’t look nearly as relaxed and happy as Matt.
    Carlo frowned at him. “Still jet-lagged?”
    “Couldn’t sleep.”
    Garrett’s insomnia was back.
    “You take a pill?”
    “You know I don’t like taking them.”
    “You don’t like being a zombie the next day, either, and you look like shit. Take the damn pill tonight if you need it.”
    Garrett flashed him a grin that erased all the lines on his face and lit up his blue eyes so he looked like the devil he was. “Yes, mother.”
    For a second, it was like old times, just the two of them. Carlo reached out and ruffled Garret’s hair because it would annoy him, and because he couldn’t live another minute without touching him.
    Garrett laughed and swatted his hand away. “Go sit at the table. I got you something special for lunch.”
    Carlo stopped dead in the doorway. “In the dining room?” Like a guest?
    Just like that, the camaraderie died. Carlo was as at home in Garrett’s kitchen as his own. They had lunch at the island in the kitchen—not sitting at the dining room table.
    “We need to go over some stuff for Ransom.” Garrett’s voice floated out of the kitchen. “I thought it would be more comfortable at the table.”
    They were having a business meeting? Not that they didn’t have them, only they were usually less formal about it. Especially Garrett, whose idea of a business meeting consisted of rattling off whatever new ideas were in his head at random. Then Carlo did his job and made those things happen. Garrett needed the freedom to be the big-picture creative end of things. He didn’t interrupt lunch with “going over stuff.” He just spouted it out when the mood hit him.
    Carlo looked at the table. Garrett’s tablet sat at one end. His fingers itched to pick it up and snoop, but he resisted. Whatever this was, it was Garrett’s show.
    Garrett came out with a bottle of red wine, which he poured into the two glasses already on the table. The wine was a blend Carlo wasn’t familiar with, so that told him nothing.
    He returned with two plates, putting Carlo’s down with an air of smug expectation.
    Carlo stared down at his plate. “You made me a meatball sub?”
    “Not exactly made.” Garrett sat across from him. “I got it from that little shit-hole window in Brooklyn.”
    “Joe’s? In Brooklyn? You went to Brooklyn?”  He glared across the table at Garrett, suddenly afraid of what the innocuous-looking sub might mean. “Am I dying?”
    “Of course I didn’t go. Why would I do that? I got it delivered. Your nephew bilked me out of a fortune to bring it up here.”
    “From Joe’s? In Brooklyn?”
    “Why not? It’s your favorite, isn’t it?
    Maybe, but it certainly wasn’t Garrett’s. Garrett was as likely to order a meatball sub from a hole-in-the wall place in Brooklyn as a hot dog from a street vendor. Carlo looked across the table at Garrett’s plate, which contained the same ingredients in a radically altered form. Thin slices of meatballs fanned across the plate framed by a smear of sauce. The bread had been sliced and toasted into thin crostini. Garrett had added his own tapenade. It looked delicious, but….
    “That’s ridiculous.” Carlo pointed at the arty little plate. “Why can’t you just eat a damn sub like a normal person?”
    “I’m not normal. Normal is boring. And you’re not dying. Eat your sub. It took me half an hour