Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(72)

“So, we’ve got something to tell you.”

I was seated next to Ellie on one end of the L-shaped couch at my parents’ house. Not close enough that our legs were touching or anything, but I could see how my mother was eyeballing the strange sight of us side by side. There was something like hope in her gaze, which I was probably about to pulverize.

“What’s up?” My dad, sitting next to my mom on the other end of the couch, leaned back and crossed an ankle over one knee. His thick dark hair was graying at the temples, and his forehead had a couple lines, which were furrowed slightly deeper at the moment, like he knew something bad was coming.

I glanced at Ellie, who sat beside me in jeans and a sweater, her expression serious. On the ride over here, we’d agreed that I would do the talking, but I hadn’t exactly settled on the words I’d use, and now I found my tongue tied in knots. “It’s—well, it might be a little bit of a shock. Just to warn you.”

“Gianni, what is it?” My mother leaned forward, her blue eyes darting back and forth between Ellie and me. “Something about the two of you?”

“Yeah.” I looked at Ellie again, but her eyes had dropped to her hands, which were pressed between her knees.

“Oh my God.” My mother gasped. “I knew it! Didn’t I say that being stranded would bring them together?” She hit my dad’s leg and looked at him. “I was right!”

“Is that it?” my dad asked, his dark eyes clouded with confusion. “You two are dating or something?”

“No,” I said quickly. “We’re not dating. We’re just, uh . . . we’re only—”

“We’re having a baby,” Ellie said. “I’m pregnant.” She looked over at me. “Sorry, Gianni, but you were taking too long.”

“You’re what?” My mother’s face had gone white.

“I’m pregnant.” Ellie played with the hem of her sweater. “About ten weeks along. Due in October.”

My dad’s jaw had fallen open, and he was staring at me without blinking. The silence was excruciating.

I cleared my throat. “We know this is unexpected.”

My mother made a noise. It might have been a laugh. Or a scream.

“But everything is going to be fine.” I hoped I sounded more confident than I felt.

“Oh, my God. Does Mia know?” My mother, recovering her voice, looked at Ellie.

“Not yet.” Ellie’s cheeks turned a little pink. “But I’m going to tell her tonight. I’ve just been a little nervous about what she’ll say.”

“Oh, honey.” My mother came over to Ellie and sat beside her, taking her hand. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Then Ellie shocked me by bursting into tears and throwing her arms around my mom, who hugged her and rubbed her back, making calm shushing noises.

I swallowed hard, feeling oddly left out. I looked at my dad, who still appeared shell-shocked.

“So . . .” he began, sitting up straighter. “So, a baby.”

“Yeah.” I scratched the back of my neck. “It’s definitely, um, a baby.”

He gave me a look that could possibly be described as murderous, then focused on Ellie. “Sweetheart, how are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she blubbered. “I’m fine. I don’t know why I’m so emotional right now. I’m really fine.”

“This is emotional,” said my mom, who had also started crying. “I can’t believe it. I’m going to be a grandmother.”

“Oh, fuck.” My dad’s expression was now one of alarm. “That’s right. I’ll be a grandfather.” He ran a hand over his hair, like he wanted to make sure it was all still there.

“We know this is a big shock. But we have a plan.” I have no idea what possessed me to say that, since we didn’t.

“What’s the plan?” my dad asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Are you guys getting married?”

“No,” Ellie and I said at the same time. She let go of my mom, and we exchanged a look. “We’re not.”

“But you’re not still going back to California to do that show,” my mother said.

“Actually, yes. I am.” As I said it, I squirmed a little.

“Gianni Lupo.” My dad’s eyes were hard and his voice had a warning note to it—for a second I was transported back to childhood, sitting on the couch waiting to be yelled at.

“What?” I got up from the couch and grabbed a box of tissues for Ellie from a side table. “It’s only for ten weeks,” I said, handing her the box.

Ellie plucked a few tissues from the box. “I want him to go. He left it up to me.”

“He did?” my mother asked, obviously confused.

“Yes,” Ellie said, dabbing at her eyes. “We talked about it, and I told him to go. He’d already signed the contract, it’s good money, and it will be good for his career. I wouldn’t be happy knowing that he had to miss out on a great opportunity because of—because of—” She looked at me, and I knew she was thinking about those five insane minutes against the wall.

“A blizzard,” I finished.

“Right. A blizzard.” Ellie took a breath. “And I’ll be fine.”