Three glasses of champagne later, he met the others at the door, after having texted both Jordan and Brendan with exact directions , since the road leading there wasn’t on Google Maps. And apparently GPS coordinates weren’t for everyone. They had convoyed, which meant first the little yellow Fiat carrying Brendan, Laurel and Christian pulled up, followed by a black truck Eddie didn’t recognise but quickly saw that the driver was Em. (Really, he should have guessed.) And he couldn’t help but notice that it lacked a back seat. The last was a white BMW, which was Richards and Cress.

He swallowed the nervousness which regrettably had not been numbed by alcohol, as he tripped down the steps to meet them climbing out of their cars, stretching.

“Hey y’all.” He said, smiling widely and very glad he had gotten to them before his parents. He glanced at their assembly. “Where’s Strawberry?”

Brendan replied, waving. “Would you believe, food poisoning! I think she’s in hospital over the weekend.”

Eddie was taken aback, wondering if some god had heard his silent prayer, and banished the thought as ridiculous. “Good grief. Is she ok? Why didn’t she text me?”

“Probably because her head was in a toilet bowl.” Laurel answered in muffled voice, while bending over something in the front seat.

“I’ll light a candle for her later. For now, welcome to Casa Rossi.”

They all gave the house an appreciative look, and Brendan whistled.

“Geez. You live here?” he said.

Eddie tried not to shift on his feet, not enjoying their slack-jawed awe at his parent’s affluence. “No. this is the summer house. It’s usually shut around now but I think my parents wanted to impress.”

“Not too shabby.” Laurel murmured.

“It’s lovely, Eddie.” Cress said, coming up behind them, as if it was his house. She and Eddie hadn’t had much to say to each other since the topic of the Thanksgiving Weekend had come up, and Eddie spared her a cool look.

“All credit to my mother. She commissioned it.”

More appreciative awe.

“Please close your mouths before you come inside.” He said, gesturing for them to come inside. “And no, don’t worry about your bags. We have someone for that.”

“You don’t.” Laurel said, but her disbelief was a little too gleeful and he ignored her. Even as she spoke, the door opened and the little butler/footman/majordomo who had opened for him earlier came out, moving past them without a glance, and began to retrieve luggage from the Fiat first.

“No seriously, how will he know whose is whose?” Laurel hissed at Eddie.

“If there are mistakes, we can just fix them. We should go inside.” Eddie said shortly. His anxiety was building now, and he felt the desire to rush things and slow them right down at the same time.

Em was off to the side, with Richards, both quiet as the grave, and Eddie wished he could say something to him. Anything. Just speaking to Em might calm the butterflies in his chest, even if the idiot never said anything back. But he turned away and led them up.

When they entered, his mother came into view. As expected, his mother didn’t do anything halfway. She was wearing a sheer red dress that touched the floor lightly, and her hair was shining and clipped back on one side with a glittering hair comb, showing the dark olive line of her neck. Her face was made up with Hollywood perfection, and she smiled like a movie star.

“Welcome! I am so glad you are here! And just in time for dinner.”

She bore down upon them, while Eddie could only stand and watch. She embraced the women but gave the men cheek kisses, chatting away at them about things she had learned about them via Eddie. They were flustered in the face of her ebullient glamour, as most people were when first encountering his mother. Eddie watched her with a tight coil of affection in his heart, this lovely creature that had birthed him, uncaring that she was dressed for the opera and they were dressed in wrinkled, travelled-worn clothes.

His father joined them then. Eddie hadn’t seen him when he arrived, Mamma citing that he was at a meeting. On seeing his son, his father approached him first.

“Ciao Federico. Come stai?” His father greeted with a polite smile, a quick brush of lips to his cheek. Even after many years with his mother, he still couldn’t quite get a handle on social mores and preferred to be a subsidiary character in her show.

“Ciao Papa, tutto bene.” Eddie acknowledged, still darting anxious glances at the introductions in the entryway.

“Francesca, come now, let them eat.” His father chided his wife gently.

“And this is Massimo, my darling husband. And yes, he is right, you must be hungry. Was the drive long?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know.

“About five hours.” Cressida answered politely, who was clearly the most able to deal with his mother’s demeanour. His mother gestured them on.

“We have never made the drive up to the college, so we don’t know. You must come! We are Italian, and in an Italian house, you must eat. I could not bear the thought of anyone being hungry in my home!”

So they went into the dining room. The décor was a mix of modern convenience and classic opulence that complimented each other, as it was in the rest of the house. The heavy darkness of the furniture framed and made simple by the soft white of the floor and tall, damask pattern curtains. Everyone seated themselves at the long table. Mercifully, his mother hadn’t hired servers this time, so they could help themselves, which was much closer to ‘normal’. His mother leaned close to him, pretending to reach for a dish near to his plate.

“Caro,” she said, sotto voce. “Those two, Richards and Em, they are so quiet. Are they alright?”

“They are just quiet people, Mamma.” He reassured her.

“Hmm, they must eat.” To her, food solved most things. And when it didn’t, wilful ignorance did just as well.

Eddie kept his composure through dinner, but he was watching everything like a hawk, listening with painful acuity to every word his parents said, and every question answered, waiting for a misstep no one knew they might make.

“Eddie, pass the salt?” Laurel said from across the table. Eddie was reaching for it when his mother said in a disappointed voice.

“Ah Federico, must you always introduce yourself by this silly nickname? Even to your friends?”

An attentive kind of silence settled on the table at that, but Eddie picked up the salt and passed it to Laurel’s open hand.

“It’s just a name, Mama.” He tried to say carelessly, as if it were no consequence.

“It’s so ugly. It does not suit you. We call him Federico, or Rico for short.” His mother told Laurel, in mild correction.

“Oh-kay.” Laurel said slowly, looking uncertainly at Eddie. Eddie shook his head slightly and changed the topic.

“Mama, can I show everyone their rooms after dinner? It’s a much bigger house than they are used to.”

She waved a hand at him. “You may do so for the boys, but I want the girls with me in the kitchen for a moment.” She grinned conspiratorially at Cress and Laurel. “It is like this in Italy. The men and the women separate after dinner, to talk and gossip.”

Eddie nodded at her but couldn’t find much to say for the rest of the dinner. His mother was the main source of conversation, and her skills in that area were unrivalled. Even with the silence from both Em and Richards, and the minimal replies from the rest of them, she managed to make the general ambience congenial if not relaxed. It was obvious that his friends sensed that things were not quite right. Eddie took part when he was called upon, but kept counting the minutes until they could step away from the table and he could count one night down. If he could keep it as free of wrinkles as possible, he could come out the other side and breathe deep again.

Christian, who was sitting on Eddie’s left, leaned close and said quietly while Eddie’s Father discussed the Blue House with Cress and Richards.

“Are you ok, Eddie? You’re really quiet.”

Before Eddie could answer, his mother leaned over so she could see Christian around her son. “Oh, he is always quiet. Especially when there is more than just the famiglia around. He becomes shy in mixed company.”

Eddie stiffened as he saw Christian’s face wrinkle in confusion, and Brendan’s too, because Francesca could only speak quietly if it was in a stage whisper. He put his fork down very quietly.

“Mama, I have to excuse myself.” He said, and escaped before he had to look at anyone else’s face.

Once inside the bathroom, he locked the door and leaned on it, covering his face with his hands. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be two people. But with every second, it was becoming more and more obvious just how much of a liar Eddie was, especially to his friends. He couldn’t play both parts. This had been the worst possible thing to happen. And now he was stuck in it.

So he forced himself to calm down, and convinced himself that he would simply go and explain to the others in private that his parents saw him so little that they only assumed he was quiet. It was partly true after all. And if Laurel couldn’t accept that he was going to give her the middle finger. So he washed his face and hands, and stepped out again.

When he got back to the dining room, he saw that the party had split.

“Mama took the ladies to the kitchen.” His father explained. “She said it was silly to be formal about dessert.”

“I’ll take the guys up then.”

His father nodded, though he seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but was unsure. Eddie, unwilling to get into anything just then, turned to the others quickly.

“Follow me. Your rooms are upstairs.” He said, completely ignoring the worried looks on Brendan and Christian’s faces. Instead he focussed on Em’s, who looked refreshingly dispassionate.

The upstairs rooms were all carefully laid out, each with a window facing the rolling green of the lawns, and further, the reservation against which the property nestled. They checked and found all their bags in the right rooms. Brendan’s and Christian,s were next to each other, while Richards and Em’s were at either end of the corridor.

“The bathrooms are around the corner and downstairs. “ Eddie showed them. “If you need anything, you can find me. Or text. My room is downstairs, but I’ll come find you if you get lost.” He smiled weakly at them, trying to joke but he could hear how hollow it sounded.

Richards wisely went straight to his room, claiming exhaustion, which was probably true. Em wandered off to go find a way outside so he could smoke.

“Where are Laurel and Cress’s rooms?” Christian asked. “I can’t believe this house is so big.”

“They’re downstairs, next to mine.” Eddie told him, then rubbed at his face. “Look, I am sorry I have to say this, but I really, I just… I know you guys are used to sharing a room, alright? But just for this weekend, don’t.”

He stared at their shocked faces, feeling wretched. “I’m sorry, I know it’s embarrassing, I would never have said anything otherwise. I just didn’t realise it would be like this...” Eddie said, helplessly. “That’s a lie. I knew it was like this, I just forgot. Or hoped. I’m sorry. Ok?”

Bren and Christian were stunned by his request, and were looking at him in confusion. “Sure Eddie.” Christian eventually said. “It’s no big deal.” And he meant it.

“Thank you.” Eddie said sincerely before walking away from them, hating that he had even had to say those words to people he loved.

He went quickly down the stairs, thinking he could find Em and bum a smoke or six off him to calm his nerves, when he heard female voices in the kitchen. He slowed when he heard his mother’s melodic tones.

“Is he? He doesn’t speak of the things he does, only what everyone is doing.” His mother was saying.

“Definitely. You should see him when he’s spinning. It’s incredible.” Laurel said. Eddie felt a shock of pleasant surprise hearing praise for him coming out of Laurel’s mouth.

“Ah, you admire him yes?” Eddie’s mother said warmly.

“Admire him? When he’s not being a pain in my...uh...behind, yes. It’s no secret the Blue House wouldn’t be more than an idea without him. He even came up with the name, got the prefab painted by Helen Turner of all people-“

“Yes, but it is the way of young love, to find admiration and exasperation in equal parts, not so?” Francesca interrupted laughingly, and Eddie’s stomach dropped.

“I’m sorry?” Laurel said, her tone flat, but his mother was talking again.

“I wanted also to thank you, Cressida. Such a lovely name by the way.” He couldn’t see her but he imagined his mother leaning forward and taking Cressida’s hand, her lovely face earnest. “You have given my son a purpose. This is no small thing. He was untethered before. But you have looked past…things.”

There was a horrible pause in conversation.

“What things, Mrs Rossi?” Cressida asked quietly.

“Please, call me Francesca. Ah, I suppose I can tell you, because you work so closely together, and you are such a dear friend to him,” this was probably to Laurel. “I will not go into details, but Federico has ‘Damage.’”

“Damage?” Laurel said, the beginnings of outrage in her tone. Eddie couldn’t stop anything now though, he could barely move, eyes wide and terrified.

“Yes. He was...hurt...as a child. By a trusted friend of the family. Massimo and I, we still can’t forgive ourselves for allowing to it happen.” Eddie’s heart cracked and shattered at the genuine pain in his mother’s voice. “And we learned too late how it broke him. He was sent to doctors, like you Cressida, and truly we thought he would have grown out of it by now. That is why we were so happy when he told us about you. He never talks about anyone, especially girls.”

He heard a chair scrape back and Laurel’s voice, harsh and definite. “I’m not interested in Eddie. I have a boyfriend. And Eddie is a million miles away from being into me.”

A brief pause. “Laurel-“Cressida started.

“No.” Laurel said curtly. “He isn’t damaged.”

Laurel’s footsteps were a soft passing on the tile and she came around the corner so fast she almost collided with Eddie. Once she regained her balance, she looked up and saw the wretched misery of Eddie’s face, frozen and staring at her. Her expression twisted, filling with pity and apology. She glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen doorway, then back to him.

“Eddie, why didn’t you ever say? I had no idea-“

“Does it make you feel better, now that you do?” Eddie heard himself say, not caring that he caused the hurt that rippled across her expression then. He turned quickly, and almost had a collision of his own, into Em. Em’s eyes weren’t bored now, but met his with a bottomless kind of look that Eddie couldn’t grasp. Eddie detoured around him without missing a beat.