We Have Till Dawn

He waved his pastry at the stage. “No one even reacted when you fought with your father.”

I frowned, confused. “Fought? That wasn’t a fight.”

“It looked like a fight. It sounded like a fight.”

Aw, fuck. I rubbed the back of my neck and glanced at Pop and Anthony over my shoulder. They were shooting the shit and stacking boxes together.

“That’s just how we talk sometimes, hon. We can be pretty loud, I guess.” I turned back to Gideon again. “We’re good, but I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to warn you about Pop. I underestimated the power of rumors, and now they think we’re dating.”

“Oh.” He dropped his stare to the ground, or the pastry in his hand, and nodded slowly. “I apologize. You were… I can’t find the words. The way you performed tonight—I felt it everywhere. It was overwhelmingly beautiful.”

“But something’s wrong.” I took a step forward and tried to make eye contact, and if I didn’t find out what was up with him soon, I’d flip my fucking shit. “Talk to me, Gideon.”

He winced and clutched his side. “I am incredibly nauseated. I had six hot dogs. Can you take this?”

Mother of—!

I quickly accepted the bear claw, then ushered him toward two abandoned lawn chairs near a wall. “Why would you eat that much? Now you’re gonna have a stomachache. I swear—you make me worry, papito.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” he argued weakly. “I’m a nervous eater sometimes. Specifically when I don’t know protocol and there are no known social cues to pick up on. I-I didn’t know what to say to your father, and then there was the lady selling the hot dogs. She looked so happy when I bought the food. She was raving about the charities some of the proceeds go to.”

Christ. My sweet man. I shouldn’t have unleashed him on his own, smack-dab in the middle of a Catholic community. We had our ways of making people open their wallets.

I helped him sit down before I took my seat next to him.

“There are two socially accepted activities to occupy your hands with when you arrive alone at a social event,” he informed me. “You can stare at your phone, or you can eat and drink. Checking my phone seems rude in my world, so…” So, he’d eaten. A lot.

“What’s the story about this one?” I held up the bear claw.

He eyed it wistfully. “It looked tasty. I might want it in a moment.”

I shook my head and set down the pastry on the ground. “Nonna makes the best bear claws—with even more glaze. When you feel better, I’ll get you a bunch. Okay? I think you need to rest your stomach for the night.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” He could not look more sullen.

I rubbed his back, trying not to let my amusement show, and hoped it would be safe to run and grab my jacket soon. There were no other family members he could run into—or friends, for that matter. And it was freaking brick here. I couldn’t stop shuddering from the cold.

“So what turned you into a nervous eater tonight?” I wondered. “You were inhaling hot dogs before my pop came over to you.”

He sighed and stared at his lap. “I have a lot on my mind. Then Chester today… I’m worried about him.” He checked his watch and cringed. “I was hoping to convince you to spend more time with me, but I should head home and check in on him.”

I had a feeling I knew the gist of the things he had on his mind.

It was mildly terrifying to acknowledge that he held my happiness and the future I wanted in his hands, especially since I knew without an ounce of doubt that he was going to choose his fiancée. Not for her sake, probably, but for the chance to have a family, to have children, to ensure a lifetime of stability.

I was confident enough in us to believe that he would’ve chosen me if he didn’t dream about all those other things.

My family was amazing in my eyes; it was full of warmth and banter and affectionate madness, but we would never be called structured or…heh, stable.

“I think I’ll stay here tonight.” I looked over at Anthony. Maybe I could drag him out for a copious amount of booze tonight. I didn’t wanna be alone in my temporary apartment in the city. I was sick of temporary.

“You can’t sleep in a church that looks like Germany before it was restored after the war,” Gideon argued, bewildered.

I smiled and patted his leg. “I meant with my brother.”

His shoulders sagged. “Oh. Good.” He peered skyward. “I genuinely don’t understand how you’re even allowed to host events here.”

I looked up too. Much of the ceiling was gone, and there were major holes in the walls. The church was literally in ruins. All the pews long gone.