Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(42)

“Sounds perfect.” He handed her the menu back.

“I’ll have scrambled eggs and bacon please,” I said. “And a side of breakfast potatoes.”

“You got it. Any juice for you?”

Gianni and I both shook our heads, and Mae left to put our order in with Harold.

Alone again, I picked up my thick white coffee mug and took a sip, carefully avoiding Gianni’s eyes.

“So are we going to talk?” he asked.

“About what?”

“About what I told you last night.”

“I don’t see what’s to talk about,” I said evenly. “You should take the offers—both of them.”

“Are you saying that because you want to be rid of me?”

I hesitated. “Partly.”

He laughed. “At least you’re honest.”

“Always. And I think that’s what had me so upset last night. I felt like you’d been dishonest.”

“Ellie, I just needed time to think the offer through—I was going to tell you. And the Tastemaker cover . . .” His eyes pleaded with me to understand his position. “I couldn’t tell you right away. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

I averted my gaze so that his sincerity wouldn’t get to me. “It just felt like one minute you were all ‘I’ll always have your back’—”

“That’s true.”

“And the next you were like, ‘and while I’m here at your back, rubbing my dick on your butt, let me just stick this knife in and twist it a little.’”

He laughed, then quickly straightened his face. “Sorry.”

I shrugged. “And maybe it’s not really what happened, but that’s what it felt like in the moment.”

“I get it,” he said. “And I really am sorry.”

I took another sip of coffee and tried to ignore the way my heartbeat was quickening at his puppy dog eyes. “But let’s forget about me for a minute. What do you want?”

Gianni lifted his coffee to his lips and thought about it. “I want to wake up and feel alive every day. I never want to dread going to work. I never want to be bored. I want to challenge myself to do new and different things. And most of all, I want to prove Mrs. Peabody wrong.”

For a second, I was confused. “Wait. Mrs. Peabody, our fourth-grade teacher?”

“Yeah. She once told me I’d never amount to a damn thing.”

My jaw dropped. “She said that to your face?”

“Yeah. She said I was lazy and stupid, a waste of her time, and I’d never amount to anything.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I mean, looking back, maybe I can’t blame her, since I was always missing assignments, constantly talking and fooling around in class, breaking playground rules.”

“But she was an adult, and you were a kid.”

“Yeah. I never told anyone about it either—not my parents or my brothers or my friends. But I never forgot it.” He focused on his coffee again, like it was no big deal, but something struck me.

“You believed her.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. Then. “Maybe.”

“She was an adult and authority figure, so you believed her.” My heart ached for the nine-year-old kid who must have been devastated to hear his teacher say such mean things. “Gianni, it wasn’t true. I mean, maybe you weren’t well-behaved, but you weren’t stupid.”

“I wasn’t smart like her favorites though. She preferred the brainy, quiet kids like you. The ones who sat still with a book and actually read it. I couldn’t sit there for a minute without looking around and trying to think up some other way to pass the time, even if it meant getting in trouble.”

“Your talents just weren’t obvious to her. I bet she’s the one who feels stupid now. Look how far you’ve come.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I should thank her. Sometimes when I feel like giving up on something, I remember what she said.”

I smiled. “Think she watched Lick My Plate?”

Gianni laughed. “God, I fucking hope so.”

“If she came into Etoile, would you poison her dinner?”

“No way. I’d make sure it was the best meal she ever had.” He grinned at me over his mug. “And for dessert, I’d make her eat her words.”

I chuckled as I set down my coffee. “Always a bitter dish. Anyway, if you’re feeling stuck or bored at Etoile, Gianni, you should go.”

“That’s just it—I’m not feeling stuck or bored. I really love Etoile, and if it weren’t for this offer, I wouldn’t leave before my contract was up.”

“Tell me about the offer.”

While we waited for our food and the blizzard continued outside, Gianni explained the idea behind Hot Mess. My side hurt from laughing so much, and I nearly spit coffee, but I could understand why he had a feeling it would take off—especially with him as host.

“Is it good money?” I asked.

“It’s fucking great money.” He shook his head. “It would be really hard to walk away.”

“Then don’t.”

Mae appeared with our food. “Are you ready?” she asked with a grin.