Never Say Love Read Free Page B

two men laughed, they were clearly on exactly the same wave length. “He’s only a couple of years older than us,” James shook his head, “he’s thirty something. I mean, who in their right mind wants to be saddled with that at our age?”
    Both men shook their heads, their feelings on the subject mutual, neither one of them interested in any kind of commitment or long-term arrangement, although for different reasons. “So what are we doing tonight?” Benito asked, “Clubbing?”
    The curly haired James, as stunning to look at as Benito, was half Italian. His English mother had deserted the family when he was just a baby, he had been raised by his father—his hero. After Lucca’s sudden death, he had, in his words, adopted Gia and Roberto as his surrogate parents. Lucca had been Roberto’s business partner in a small Italian restaurant, an incredibly successful business with a regular clientele. Through this business, James had learned about the hospitality industry, he’d also become an accomplished cook and very close to Gia and Roberto, who had always been part of James’ life and had looked after him after his father’s passing.
    “Yeah, sure. We can go uptown. I’ll show you the sights, the girls! I take it you’ve still not got a steady girl Benito?”
    Benito threw his head back laughing loudly, “No! No long term arrangements for me, too much trouble.” He answered shortly, turning and looking horrified at James. “I just don’t want a permanent fixture, happy with a quick shag here and there. I’m too young and too busy for the hassle and nagging in your ear all the time.” He shuddered at the thought of a woman in his life—permanently. No, Benito liked the freedom to be able to choose a different girl—every night if he wanted! But his reasons for not wanting a steady girl ran deeper. He was fearful of ending up like his father, desperate not to give his heart to someone only to have it so broken that he couldn’t love again.
    That point was the foundation of a firm friendship.
    Arriving at Roberto and Gia’s house, James pulled the car onto the wide driveway, both climbed out and made their way inside. The moment they stepped over the threshold, Benito found himself wrapped in Gia’s arms. “Benito, look at you. Just like Franco!” she chuckled, her Italian accent so subtle, almost nonexistent. “Roberto!” she called to the back of the house, “Look who’s here!”
    The rotund little lady, her dark hair swept into a neat little twist, walked to a back room calling her husband again, “Roberto! Come and say hello to your cousin’s son, Benito’s here with James.”
    Roberto, tall and slim, compared to his wife, but with the similar olive skin, his salt and pepper hair catching the sunshine through the window, left his newspaper and greeted Benito. A few words were exchanged in Italian and pleasantries were observed before reverting to English.
    “How’s your dad?” Roberto asked his hand on Benito’s arm.
    “He’s fine, absolutely fine. He says that he’s retiring!”
    Roberto huffed, flicking his head towards the ceiling, “That’ll be the day!”
    Gia laughed at the comment, “Your father will never retire, not completely.” Fussing around the two young men, her smile seemed fixed; she was totally and utterly in her element.
    Unfortunately, Gia and Roberto were childless, although not for want of trying, it just never happened. They’d resolved themselves long ago to being on their own but relished the opportunity to care for others, in particular James. Both of them had been devastated beyond comprehension when Lucca had died, they’d sat with James, his father’s official next of kin, and supported him as he made that dreadful decision, a decision that nobody should ever have to make, yet alone an 18-year-old child. The boy had floundered as he’d sat and watched his father, his hero, his everything, lie there lifeless, the bleeping machinery keeping him