“Oh. Uh...” Renzo didn’t really know what to make of that. Joe often got on obsessive jags like a certain cartoon or game, and it could be tough, like when he wanted to watch a movie five times in a single weekend.
“You never introduce us to any of your friends when we visit.” She didn’t say it accusatory, more sad, which was worse, made Renzo’s already sore back ache like he’d taken a kick. It was true that he liked to keep the various parts of his life separate, and like with Canaan, he was someone different with his family than he was with the team. He’d been reluctant for anyone on the teams to see who he was with his family. But he’d never thought that maybe that hurt his mom’s feelings.
“Sorry, Ma. They’re all really busy people. And getting people on and off base is a hassle and a half. You remember from graduation, right?”
“I understand. But expect a ton of questions from Joe all about your friend. He thinks it’s so cool that you got to save the day. Of course, we didn’t explain the real risks to him.” She sighed, a weary sound that aged Renzo simply to hear it.
“You think he’d like to meet Canaan?” Renzo found himself asking, utterly stunned at the words dripping off his tongue.
“Really?” His mother brightened considerably. “Joe would love that. And so would we. Bring him—and anyone else you want—to Disney. It’s not too late to get an extra room or two, I’m sure.”
“I...” He gulped, no idea what he’d gotten himself into. “I’ll see. I’ll have to ask.”
“Do that.” She was downright cheery now. “It’ll make Joe’s day, meeting a friend of yours, particularly one you got to be the hero for.”
An extra heaping helping of guilt landed on his shoulders. He did love making Joe happy, doing what he could, and maybe he hadn’t been doing enough lately. Still not sure what the hell he was doing, he ended the call with a promise to ask Canaan about joining them and to call again tomorrow. Hopefully, once she saw him again in person, she’d calm down, remember that he was a fully functional adult and stop worrying so much about him.
And as for the other thing, the asking Canaan to meet his family thing, the beginnings of a tension headache throbbed at the mere thought of asking for a favor. And then Canaan seeing that side of him. Oh God. But he really couldn’t not ask, not after promising he would. So he finished getting ready and headed out to Canaan’s place, hoping he wouldn’t run the other way at Renzo’s request.
* * *
“Is there a reason we’re having the exact same stir-fry two nights in a row?” Canaan’s grandfather asked as he set the table for three.
“Last night was practice.” It had been hard enough deciding what to make out of his limited repertoire. Like, he couldn’t exactly serve the sort of pasta sauce from a jar that he and Grandpa ate for an Italian from Philly who’d already raved about his mother’s cooking. And no way was Canaan attempting pho or ramen, despite knowing that Renzo liked those. So stir-fry it was, but he wanted it to be a good one.
“He did tell you that anything was better than barracks food, right?” Grandpa laughed. “I’m sure it’s far better than in my day, but anything homemade is going to impress your guy.”
“Thanks.” Canaan checked the brown rice in the rice cooker. They usually ate white, but he knew how hard Renzo tried to be healthy. He’d invited Renzo over earlier in the week, but their schedules hadn’t lined up until tonight. The long wait had Canaan extra antsy, wanting tonight to go well. In text, he’d asked Renzo what he wanted to do.
A non-tepid shower sounds nice ;) And maybe food?
It was a good, simple plan that was hopefully going to get Canaan laid, but first, the food. And for Renzo to show up.
“Quit watching the clock,” his grandfather chided. “You know—”
“Don’t make me regret not ordering pizza at my place,” Canaan warned. It was an empty threat as he’d really wanted to go all in on the Take Care of Renzo plan. And he was figuring that if Grandpa got to see more of Renzo, whom he already respected, that maybe he’d lay off the lectures. The doorbell rang, saving them both from further argument.
And thank goodness his grandfather hadn’t followed him to the door because Renzo looked so good standing there in dark jeans a white button-down shirt that Canaan needed to tug him into the entryway for a fast kiss.
“I’m glad you came.” He inhaled deeply, drinking Renzo in.
“Me too.” Renzo’s smile was a little strained, but Canaan had high hopes of reversing that. Renzo held out a little brown bag. “I brought your grandpa coffee beans. Ma taught me to never come empty-handed, but I haven’t found good cannoli yet around here and wasn’t sure what he could drink with his meds.”