Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(82)

I stared at her. “That’s why she wants me to leave? So she can get over me?”

Winnie nodded solemnly. “And if she ever found out I told you that, she would stab me with a thousand sharp knives. But for some reason, I have this feeling you’re telling me the truth, and you really do care for her.”

“I do,” I moaned. “Swear to God, Winnie, I’ve never spent so many sleepless nights thinking about how to make a girl want me. I had no idea it could be this hard.”

Winnie smiled. “Ellie’s a tough cookie. She’s stubborn and she’s proud. She’s got it in her head that she could never be what you really want, and she won’t settle for being anything less.”

I slumped into the chair again. “That’s my fault. I said a bunch of stupid stuff to her at the motel about never wanting to be tied down to one place or one person. But it was mostly just me showing off how immature and unattached I was. It seemed like a badge of honor to be so free.”

“Have you changed your mind?”

Exhaling, I looked at my hands in my lap. “Yes. I don’t care about that freedom anymore. I want to be with her. And I’d give up anything to have another chance.”

“Then prove it,” Winnie said.

“But how? She hardly lets me near her.”

“I can’t tell you that, Gianni. You’re going to have to figure that out for yourself.” She paused. “But it should be big.”





I went straight to the kitchen office and called my agent. When he didn’t pick up, I left a voicemail.

“Hey Spencer, it’s Gianni. Listen, I’m sorry to do this, but I need to get out of my contract for Hot Mess. I can’t leave Michigan at the end of March for family reasons. Can you please call me back when you get this? My mind is made up.”

I ended the call and set my phone down, then rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. Next, I jumped online and canceled my flight out of town, as well as the small house in L.A. I’d rented for the duration of the shoot. Finally, I called the manager of my Traverse City apartment complex to see if I could extend my lease, but unfortunately, that unit had already been rented starting April 15th.

“But I’ve got a two-bedroom, two-bath available,” she offered. “Rent is higher, obviously, but it’s available right now. Would you like to come see it?”

“Yes,” I said, “but I can’t come today. Tomorrow okay?”

“Sure,” she said. “I’m here nine to five.”

“I’ll be there at nine. Thanks.” I hung up with her, took a deep breath, and made the final call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Pop. It’s me.”

Silence. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, but can we talk?”

“Have you come to your senses?”

I smiled. “Yeah. And I could use some advice on how to make a girl fall in love with me, even though I’m not good enough for her. I figure you’re an expert in that.”

He laughed. “Come by the house. I’ve got some experience there.”





My dad was waiting for me at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. My mother was there too. “Hi, honey,” she said, her expression concerned. “Are you okay? You look terrible.”

“I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked.

“That sounds good, thanks.” I pulled out the chair across from my dad and sat down while my mom went over to the coffee maker. “So I dropped out of the show.”

His brows went up. “You did?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you were right. I was making the wrong choice. You guys raised me to put my family first, not my career. And even though this isn’t what I had planned, I’m realizing that it could turn out to be what I want.”

“Or what you need,” my mom said, setting a cup of black coffee in front of me.

“What changed your mind?” my dad asked.

“Honestly, I was never fully convinced doing the show was right for me. And once I found out about the baby, I was even less convinced. But there was one thing that pushed me over the edge.” I pulled out my phone and brought up the video of the ultrasound. “This.”

They both leaned forward and watched, astonishment on their faces. “Oh.” My mom’s eyes welled with tears, and she put a hand over her heart. “That sound brings back so many memories.”

The video ended, and my dad cleared his throat. “Play it again.”

Smiling, I played it again for them, enjoying their reaction—my dad’s slow, amazed grin, my mom’s emotional tears, the look they exchanged.

“Can you send that to me?” my mom asked.

“Me too,” said my dad.

“Sure.” I messaged it to both of them, set my phone down, and picked up my coffee. “Now tell me how to win over this baby’s mom.”

My dad sipped his coffee too. “Have you told her you’re not doing the show?”

“Not yet,” I said. “She’s going to be mad. She doesn’t want me to stay here.”

“Because she thinks you don’t want to stay here,” my mom said. “She doesn’t want to be the reason you don’t get to do what you want, and she thinks by insisting that you go, she’s doing you a favor.”