On a Roll by Beth Bolden (best historical biographies TXT) 📕

“But hey,” Gabe said, after he chewed and swallowed, “you’re pretty goddamned brilliant too, it turns out.”

“Thanks,” Sean said, and grabbing his own plate, sat down next to Gabe. As they ate, his foot was swinging, and more than once, it tapped Gabriel’s. He was pretty sure that he was trying to play footsy with him, but why would he? They were just supposed to be having sex. Their feet weren’t necessarily involved in that—unless Sean was into shit that he hadn’t told Gabriel about yet.

“That was fucking delicious,” Gabriel said, after they both finished. “If the wrap thing doesn’t ever work out, you can always branch into Mexican food.”

“I kind of thought about diversifying a bit,” Sean said thoughtfully. “Quesadillas aren’t that much different from wraps, you know? And I thought I could do some really fun stuff with the fillings.”

“Cheese is where it’s at, baby,” Gabriel teased him. “Stick to the classics. Look at Tate, and what he’s done to the grilled cheese sandwich.”

“He’s got all kinds of different variations, though,” Sean pointed out. “He’s got the classic, yeah, but he’s got other kinds too. Just like I have the chicken caesar salad wrap, and that’s always a bestseller, but the peanut butter tofu wrap? It’s a dark horse.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Gabriel said. “But then this is LA, right? People like tofu here.”

“People like tofu a lot of different places,” Sean pointed out.

“I’ll have to take your word for that.”

“Yes, you will,” Sean said. “Have you thought about trying some meat alternatives for your meatballs? There’s a vegetarian and health-conscious crowd that hangs out at the lot, and I know Tony’s done really well attracting them, and Lucas’ new vegan truck is killing it.”

“And you,” Gabriel said. “You’ve been courting them too.” He sighed. “I’m not . . . it’s not my kind of thing. That’s all.”

Sean elbowed him sharply. “Why? Because you’re Italian? Don’t be silly.”

It wasn’t about that at all. Gabriel just . . . well, he did what he knew. He’d always done what he knew, and what his family knew was meatballs and sauce and garlic bread and the best goddamn baked ziti and carbonara that anyone had ever tasted. He didn’t know how to adapt. The only way he’d ever figured out how to break out was to put the same ingredients into one easy-to-carry roll.

That was it.

He hadn’t built a business from scratch the way that Sean had. He’d had his family’s backing, and his nonna’s recipes. It was practically a no-fail venture.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “That’s not really why.”

“Then why?” Sean sounded like he really wanted to know. His blue eyes gleamed with genuine interest. “You’re a great cook.”

He’d fooled Sean, too, like he’d fooled everyone else. “I’m not, really,” he admitted. “I’m good at following a recipe, that’s all.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Sean said, forehead creasing, like he couldn’t quite envision a world in which Gabriel wasn’t his normal overly confident self.

But Sean had confessed about Milo. He could tell Sean about his nonna.

“You know my family’s in restaurants, right?”

Sean nodded. “Yeah, up in Napa, right?”

“Yeah,” Gabriel said. “My parents run the restaurants still, though my brother, Luca, he’s taken over now that they’ve retired to Florida.”

“Restaurants? I didn’t realize there was more than one.”

“Five, actually,” Gabriel said. “I could have worked in one of them. Everyone else does, and they’re happy to do it.”

“But you weren’t,” Sean stated, rather than asked. Like he’d already seen deep into Gabriel—knew how he ticked and how he hadn’t wanted to just be another Moretti, making ziti and lasagna and throwing pizzas for the lunch crowd.

“I wanted some space,” Gabe admitted. “I needed some space. And then Ren came with me, and that helped too, but I took all the family recipes with me. Even took the name, at least before I changed it.” Sean made a face, and maybe before a week ago, that would have led to another round of bickering, but tonight he just let it slide. “So no, I’m not some great chef. I’m just . . . a guy with a really talented nonna.”

“But you could be,” Sean said.

“Hardly,” Gabriel scoffed.

“I just think you should at least think about it. I’m always trying new stuff. I know a lot of the other trucks are, too, and sometimes it really pays off for them. Look at Tony. He was all about meat and now he’s helping Lucas with his vegan truck. And he’s totally on board.”

“He’s also totally in love,” Gabriel pointed out.

“Yeah, but I don’t think that’s why.” Sean stood and picked up their plates, heading towards the sink. “Just because it’s something you’ve done forever doesn’t mean it’s something you have to keep doing. I learned that, when Milo died. I stayed in this horrible gray rut of misery for months and months. Years, actually, and I didn’t need to. Milo wouldn’t have wanted me to stay there. He’d have been just as upset as I was that I was only just existing.”

“So you came here,” Gabriel said.

“Yeah.” Sean turned on the faucet and began to rinse the plates. “But it’s not just about living with grief. You can do something different. You just have to make it happen. You already did it once.”

“Yeah, I took Luca’s loan and came down here with Ren. That . . .” Gabriel swallowed hard. “That wasn’t exactly going out on a limb.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sean said matter-of-factly. “You still did it.”

Gabe didn’t want to tell Sean that he was wrong, but he was pretty sure he was. Instead, he stood. “I think . . . I think maybe I should go now.”

Sean looked over, surprise in his eyes. “Okay,” he said. “I thought . . . thought you might want to . . .”

“I want to,” Gabriel said.

What he wanted was to stay. To sleep next to Sean and watch the way the morning light shone in his hair. But that was