Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(71)

“It’s very early, and I haven’t told my parents yet.”

“I won’t say a word. Are you okay?”

“Yes and no.” I managed a smile. “I’m still getting used to the idea. I just told the father last night.”

She bit her lip. “I hope this isn’t out of line to ask, but is it Gianni?”

Winnie and I exchanged a surprised glance. “Yes, but how did you know?” I asked.

“Just a hunch.” Her shoulders rose. “He’s been training me, and he’s an excellent teacher, but he seems distracted a lot. And I’ve noticed him sneaking looks at you from across the kitchen. I wondered if something was going on with you guys.” She smiled. “A secret love affair?”

“No secret love affair,” I told her. “Just a baby.”

“Really?” She looked genuinely surprised.

“Really. We, um, passed the time during the blizzard by accidentally procreating. It was just a one-time thing . . . or so we thought.”

“Oh.” Understanding dawned, and she pushed her glasses up her nose. “Well, is it okay to say congratulations?”

I laughed in spite of everything, tossing my hands up. “I guess?”

“Then congratulations.” She came forward and gave me a hug. “If it helps, I think you’re going to be a great mom. And if the relationship Gianni has with his father is any indication, he’ll be a great dad.”

“We’ll see,” I said. “But I appreciate the well wishes. So who texted you this morning?”

“What? Oh!” She shook her head and laughed. “Your news is much more exciting than mine, but it was Hutton French.”

Winnie gasped and fanned her face. “Ooooh, the old flame still burns!”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “Please. There was no flame. There wasn’t even a spark. And even if there was, neither of us would have known what to do with it back then.”

“Wait, how do I know the name Hutton French?” I racked my brain. “Is he an actor?”

“No, he’s a billionaire,” Winnie said. “He’s one of those cryptocurrency guys.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” I confessed.

“Does anyone?” Felicity laughed as she tightened her ponytail. “I once asked him, and less than ten seconds into the explanation, it was like he was speaking another language.”

“How do you know him?” I asked.

“We were best friends in high school. We co-captained the Mathletes Team and co-founded the Chemistry Club. We also tutored together at the middle school.”

“Clearly, they went to all the cool parties,” Winnie joked.

“We did not go to many parties,” Felicity said with a laugh. “Hutton had pretty bad social anxiety back then. But we did go to the senior prom together—just as friends.”

“And now he’s a billionaire,” I said, glad for a distraction. “Sheesh. I can’t even wrap my brain around that. Isn’t he young to have made so much money already?”

“He’s twenty-eight,” said Felicity. “We graduated together, but I was a year younger because I’d skipped a grade.”

“Stop bragging about that already.” Winnie poked her sister’s shoulder and grinned. “We all know you’re the smart sister.”

Felicity slapped Winnie’s hand away. “Anyway, he’s home visiting his parents and reached out to me. I wondered if there was any way we could get him into Etoile? He’s here all week.”

“I’m sure we can. Let me check the reservations for this week and get back to you.” I thought for a moment. “Tomorrow night might be the best bet.”

“When was the last time you saw him, Lissy?” Winnie asked.

“Gosh, maybe five years ago? He lives on the West Coast, but he came through Chicago on business and we met up for dinner.” She laughed. “Which was particularly memorable because I got one of my bloody noses at the table, and we spent the second half of the evening in the emergency room.”

“Oh no,” Winnie moaned, but she was laughing too. “Your bloody noses are the worst.”

“It was pretty horrible,” Felicity confirmed. “The white tablecloth looked like a crime scene.”

“Would you like the night off so you can eat with him?” I asked her. “I’m sure Gianni can manage without you.”

“No, that’s okay.” She shook her head and laughed ruefully. “He probably has PTSD from our last dinner. He never asked me to meet up again.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” I said. “Etoile’s dining room is very romantic.”

“Thanks, but I’m sure Hutton has his pick of models, actresses, and lady billionaires,” said Felicity. “I’ve seen the women he’s photographed with online—they’re nothing like me. We’re just friends.”

“That’s what I thought about Gianni too,” I said with a sigh. “Then there was a blizzard. And now there’s a baby.”

She laughed. “I’ll remember that.”





NINETEEN





GIANNI