“Don’t drink too much,” Javier said quietly, hand on Geoffrey’s arm.
Geoffrey nodded, holding his wineglass. He was only part way through his first one. “I won’t,” he promised.
“And try not to spend the whole night staring at Giacomo, he’s fine.”
Giacomo was not fine, but he was better than he’d been the other night. He was smiling when it was appropriate and talking to people normally and acting like he always did, like he’d never had a mental breakdown in Geoffrey’s bed.