Saturday morning, Matteo adjusted his collar for the third time.
"You look fine," Felix said from the bathroom doorway, already dressed, his hair still damp from the shower.
"I look like I'm going to a business meeting."
"You always look like you're going to a business meeting. It's part of your charm."
Felix crossed to him, straightening his already-perfect tie just to have something to do with his hands. "It's going to be okay."
"You can't know that."
"No. But I believe it anyway."
They'd chosen a restaurant that was neutral ground—not too fancy, not too casual, the kind of place where conversation could happen without the weight of formality crushing it.
Matteo had made reservations for three, had arrived fifteen minutes early because being late felt like giving ground.
Now they sat at a table near the window, watching people pass by on the street, waiting.
"There," Felix said softly, nodding toward the entrance.
