Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(83)

“It shows she cares,” my dad said with a shrug. “She’s just going about it the wrong way.”

“Like someone else I know.” My mom elbowed my dad. “Anything about this seem familiar to you?”

My dad’s face turned a little red. “Uh. Maybe.”

“Is there something I’m missing here?” I asked.

My mother sighed. “Back in college I had an opportunity to go to Paris for a year like my mother and grandmother had done. It was a family tradition.”

“And she wasn’t going to go, because of me,” my dad said. “So I did what I thought was best so she wouldn’t throw away the opportunity and hate me for it later.”

“You convinced her to go?” I asked.

“I broke up with her so she’d go. But it was a mistake.” My dad took my mom’s hand and kissed the back of it. “And it took me years to win her back.”

“Years?” I gaped at them. “I don’t have years to win Ellie.”

“It won’t take years,” my mother assured me. “I think Ellie wants you to stay, but she’s too afraid to admit it.”

“I think so too,” my dad said. “Because I saw the way she looked at you that day you guys told us. She might not trust you, but she definitely has feelings for you.”

“If that were true,” I said, thinking about what Winnie had told me, “what could I do to change her mind? To make her trust me?”

“Why doesn’t she trust you?” my mother asked.

My dad and I exchanged a look, and I knew right away he hadn’t told her what I’d done at the motel. I felt a rush of gratitude for him—he was the kind of dad I’d be someday.

“I haven’t always played fair with Ellie’s feelings,” I confessed. “There’s some history I’m not proud of—nothing terrible, but if I could go back, I’d do things differently. But mostly I think she’s scared because of something I said to her.”

“What did you say?” My mother was clearly nervous.

“I said I never wanted to stay in one place or settle down. I said I wasn’t sure I ever wanted a family, and that being stuck with one person for the rest of my life sounded boring.”

“Gee, can’t imagine why she panicked when she realized she was pregnant,” muttered my mom, picking up her coffee cup.

“Look, I know!” I jumped up and started pacing. “It was just a bunch of immature bullshit I said because I didn’t know then what would happen or how I’d feel about her. When we got back from the motel, I couldn’t stop thinking about her, but I didn’t know how to handle it. Then all of a sudden she was pregnant, and any time I tried to tell her how I felt, she just accused me of pitying her.” I stopped moving. “Also, I’m not the best at saying how I feel so I’m not sure things came out right.”

“Safe to say they didn’t,” my dad remarked.

I started pacing again. “Anyway, I finally came right out and said, ‘What about us?’ And you know what she said?” I turned to look at them. “She said, ‘There is no us. There’s never been an us.’”

“Okay,” my mom said, tapping her lips with one finger. “So you need to show her two things. One, that you didn’t mean what you said about never wanting to stay in one place and have a family—or that you’ve changed your mind. And two, that she matters to you, baby or not.”

“But the baby matters too,” I insisted. “I want to show her I’ll be a good father.”

“Be a good man first,” said my dad. “The rest will follow.”

I sat down again. “If I just announce that I’m not doing the show and staying here, it won’t be enough. She won’t like it.”

“I agree,” my mom said. “You’ll need to work a little harder to show her that it’s not just about obligation. And it might take some time, Gianni. Maybe not years, but you have to be patient while you earn her trust.”

“I will,” I promised.

She sighed. “You know what I was looking at the other day? The photo album from that first summer we moved up here. You were what, like five?”

I stared at her. “You have photos from back then? Of Ellie and me?”

“Of course.” She got up and went into the family room, returning with several albums. “I’ve got a ton of them.”

I opened one up and started leafing through, smiling at old pictures of family vacations and holidays and birthdays. Mostly the photos were of my siblings and me, but there were plenty with the Fournier kids too, since we were together so much.

Sledding in winter. Running through the sprinkler during the summer. Standing side by side—and not looking too happy about it—on the first day of school. As the years went by, our appearances changed—I grew taller, Ellie’s hair grew longer—but in picture after picture, there we were, side by side, growing up together.

The final photo I found of us had been taken at our high school graduation. We’re wearing our navy blue gowns, and I’m standing behind Ellie with both arms around her neck like I might choke her. The grin on my face is a mile wide, and she’s tugging on my forearms like she wants to escape—but she’s laughing, her face radiantly beautiful and her eyes bright.