Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(74)

I nodded. “Yeah. Basically it confirmed everything she thought about me before.”

“Jesus. No wonder she doesn’t want you around.”

“Look, I made a mistake, okay?” I raised my voice to my dad, which I knew was a bad idea. “But I apologized and I’m trying to do the right thing. She’s telling me to leave.”

“Is that what you want to do? Leave?”

“Yes,” I snapped, although at that point, I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted. Mostly I just wanted to get out of this damn garage.

My father gave me a look of disappointment that hurt worse than any belt. “I thought I raised you to be a different kind of man, but maybe I was wrong.”

“You raised me to work hard and go after what I want,” I argued. “And I never wanted this!”

“This isn’t just about you anymore!” He poked my chest. “And I raised you to put family first, not yourself!”

I lowered my voice. “She doesn’t want me, Dad. Not like that.”

“I don’t blame her.” Shouldering past me, he went into the house.

Which was just as well, since I had no argument.

I didn’t blame her either.





TWENTY





ELLIE





Gianni was silent on the way back to Abelard. When we pulled behind the house, he put the car in park but left the engine running. “Do you want me to come in?”

“For what?”

“I don’t know.” He paused. “To talk?”

“I don’t know what there is to talk about.”

He stared straight ahead, both hands on the wheel. “My dad . . . gave me some shit.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear him yelling.”

“I did,” I admitted. “And your mom was so nice—she kept trying to talk over it, reassure me that everything was going to be fine. But it was obvious your dad was upset.”

“He’s not upset about the baby,” Gianni said quickly. “He’s just mad at me. He thinks I’m running away from my responsibility. I thought he was gonna punch me in the face.”

For a moment, I imagined Uncle Nick beating up Gianni for me, and I felt a little better.

“You don’t think that, do you?” Gianni turned to me. “That I’m running away?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Look, lots of people are going to have an opinion about this situation. But we’re the only two whose opinions matter.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “It just felt shitty, hearing him say I’m not the man he thought he raised.”

“Ouch. That had to hurt.”

“It did.”

“But we can’t control how other people feel.”

“I can’t even control how I feel,” he said. “I’ve never been this . . . fucked up over anything. I feel like I don’t know myself at all.”

“That’s why you need to go do the show,” I urged. “Once you’re on the set, entertaining people, having a good time, you’ll remember who you are.”

He frowned. “But is that me?”

“It’s always been you before.”

He looked at my stomach. “What will I miss while I’m gone?”

“Me getting bigger. Some doctor appointments. Hearing me complain about shit like heartburn and nausea and having to pee all the time.”

“But you’ll tell me how you’re feeling, right?” he pressed. “And everything the doctor says?”

“Sure. But you don’t have to be here for that.” I shook my head. “You’re not abandoning me, Gianni. If that’s what you’re worried about. You’re just . . . being honest about what you really want.”

He didn’t reply right away. Then he looked at me intently. “Are you being honest about what you really want?”

Panicked that he’d see the emotion in my eyes, I lowered my gaze to my lap. “I’m trying.”

He put his fingers beneath my chin, forcing me to look at him. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “You really want me to leave?”

I gave the only answer I could and prayed he’d believe it. “Yes.”

“Why, Ellie?” He slipped his hand to the back of my neck and pulled me toward him. His forehead rested against mine. I felt his breath on my lips. “Are you so sure we shouldn’t do this together? All of it?”

“What do you mean?”

But instead of answering, he kissed me, and it was all I wanted—to be swept away by the stroke of his tongue, and the insistence of his mouth, and the grip of his hand on the back of my neck that said mine.

He broke the kiss, breathing hard. “I mean, what about us?”

“But there is no us, Gianni.” It broke my heart to say it. “There was never an us.”

“There could be.”

“No! Be realistic. This baby wasn’t conceived out of love—it was conceived because we were bored! But you don’t need to be punished for it, and that’s what staying here with me would feel like to you—a jail sentence.”

“You don’t know how it would feel to me,” he said irritably. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”