(Blue Notes 2)The Melody Thief by Shira Anthony Read Free Book Online Page B

hot-as-hell fathers.
    “You’re doing great,” Antonio told him, and Cary sincerely hoped he was, on both accounts. “I appreciate your coming with us today. Francesca is working on a show this afternoon, and I told her I’d keep Massi busy.”
    “She’s lucky she has you to help.”
    Antonio gestured Cary inside the apartment. “No,” Antonio said, his eyes full of warmth, “I’m the lucky one. When she asked me to have a child with her, I never realized how much I would enjoy being a father.”
    Cary was beginning to understand. Italy wasn’t exactly the most progressive country when it came to homosexuality. Francesca and Marissa would never have been able to adopt a child here.
    “It was very nice of Francesca to feed me breakfast the other day,” Cary said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some bills. “Would you mind giving this to her? She gave me money for the cab home, and I wanted to pay her back.”
    “Of course.” Antonio took the money, his fingers brushing Cary’s. Cary repressed a shiver at the touch. Antonio turned and walked over to the side table, putting the bills down there.
    “How does your family feel about your being a father?” Cary did his best to distract himself from his view of the back of Antonio’s neck. From this angle, Cary saw the muscles that ran from below his ears to his shoulders, and the outline of Antonio’s spine beneath the smooth skin. He imagined himself biting and licking at that skin. He was thankful he had worn his shirt outside of his jeans; he got hard just with the thought.
    “My mother was beside herself when I told her,” Antonio said as he joined Cary by the door once more. “She had pretty much given up on me ever having children, although she has plenty of grandchildren. But I’m the only son.”
    “Are you out to your family?”
    “Since scuola superiore , your high school,” Antonio explained. “I am fortunate in that, as well.”
    “Really? I mean, even in the States….”
    “My mother was born in Italy, but her family was German and very open-minded. My father wasn’t as accepting, but he loved my mother.” Antonio laughed. “She’s a stubborn woman. He had no choice but to tolerate me. Eventually, I think he even came to terms with it.”
    “That’s good.” Cary swallowed and looked briefly at the floor. He was surprised to realize that he envied Antonio. His own experience with his mother hadn’t gone nearly as well. At the thought of his mother, Cary tensed his jaw, and forced the memory away.
    That was a long time ago.
     
     
    “S O ,” A NTONIOsaid as they stood at the line for the concession counter an hour later, “do you have family in the States?”
    “A brother,” Cary explained. “He lives in St. Louis, Missouri. Married with three kids. All boys. I get to see them from time to time. My dad died when I was a baby, and my mom died when I was in college.”
    “That must have been difficult, losing both your parents when you were young.”
    “I guess.” Cary didn’t think much about it. Or he hadn’t, at least not recently. “I never knew my dad, so I didn’t really have anything to miss.”
    “Papà!” Massimo shouted happily as he pulled his father up to the counter. “It’s our turn.”
    Cary was secretly relieved at the interruption—he didn’t want to discuss his parents. The broken wrist had done nothing to keep the painful childhood memories at bay. In fact, it seemed to have reawakened them.
    They ordered sodas and ciambelle , Italian doughnuts dusted with powdered sugar, before finding their seats. The smell of animals and manure hung in the air in the large arena, mingling with the smell of buttered popcorn and the sweet, greasy scent of the ciambelle . Cary felt like a kid again as he inhaled the mixture of smells. And although it was a smaller circus than the huge spectacles he had come to expect in the US, something akin to excitement stirred in his own heart as he took in the