Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(85)

“It’s called From Dude to Dad.”

I laughed. “That’s perfect.”

“It’s very informative. Did you know that our kidney bean has already grown into a small lime?”

“I did. And next week, a plum.”

He shook his head. “They grow so fast. It’s amazing.”

“We’ll probably be saying that the rest of our lives.”

“Probably.” Our eyes met as it sank in deeper—this baby would link us for the rest of our lives. That connection to him I’d felt in the doctor’s office gripped me again, but was it real?

I took another drink of water. “Thank you very much for the sandwich.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I should go up to bed.” I pushed my chair back, but when I went to stand up, my vision swam and I swayed sideways, grabbing the tabletop with both hands.

“Ellie!” A moment later, his arms were around me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, as the gray clouds faded and I could see again. “I just got up too fast.”

“Sit down.”

“No, really. I’m fine. The dizzy spell passed. I’ll just go up to bed.”

“I’m walking you up the stairs,” he said firmly.

“Gianni, don’t be silly.”

“Don’t argue with me.” He refused to let me shake him off and slowly guided me toward the private family hallway and up the staircase. “Do you know how terrible I’d feel if you slipped and fell on these steps and no one was here to help you?”

“I’m really fine,” I said as we reached the second floor. And physically, maybe I was. But my emotions were a mess, and his strong, protective arm around me wasn’t helping.

He glanced around. “I don’t think I’ve ever been up here before. Which bedroom is yours?”

“End of the hallway.”

He walked me all the way to the door. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” I faced him and stared at his chest because I didn’t trust myself to look him in the eye.

“Because I worry about you.”

“I know.”

He took my face in his hands and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Goodnight.”

I watched him walk down the hall, telling myself to let him go—this was good practice for tomorrow. Things were settled, we were friends again, and I didn’t need to mess with that.

But I heard myself call out. “Gianni?”

He faced me again. “Yeah?”

My throat was so dry. I swallowed hard. “Um, what time tomorrow?”

“Ten should be good. I’ll text you my address.”

“Okay.”

He turned and walked away again, and this time, I let him go.

Then I went into my bedroom and cried myself to sleep.





I woke up to a text from him.

Good morning. How are you feeling?

Fighting off the nausea that always hit me first thing, I typed a reply.

Ok.





Still good to drive me to the airport?

It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I’d given my word.

Yes. I’ll be there at 10.





Great. I’ll send you my address.

Text me when you get here.

A moment later, his address popped onto my screen, and I tossed my phone aside. Laying back on my pillow, I closed my eyes and willed the tears to stop coming. Willed the sob threatening to escape my chest to stay put. Willed the sick feeling to pass.

But it wasn’t just the pregnancy making me ill.

Somehow I’d fallen for him.

And I wasn’t sure ten weeks apart was going to cure me.





TWENTY-THREE





GIANNI





I checked my phone again, but she hadn’t sent the text yet saying she’d arrived. When she did, I was going to pretend my flight was delayed and ask her to come in.

She’d be aggravated, but hopefully she’d do it. I wondered when it would hit her that she wasn’t walking up to my old apartment, the one she’d been to the night of the blizzard.

I looked around, making sure for the millionth time that everything was in place. Winnie had said to go big, and I hoped this was big enough.

It had been torture keeping the plan to myself for the last six days, especially knowing how Ellie felt and seeing her desperately try to hide it, but that’s how long it had taken me to arrange it all—extract myself from the Hot Mess contract, reach out to Fiona Duff again, rent the bigger apartment, move in, and decorate.

That was key. The décor.

From the moment I’d left my parents’ house last week, I’d known what I was going to do. I hadn’t told anyone what I was planning except my parents and Felicity MacAllister, since I wasn’t actually leaving Etoile after all. She’d been completely gracious about it and promised she wouldn’t say a word to anyone, especially her sister. Apparently, Winnie was notoriously bad at lying. No one in their family ever trusted her with anything meant to be a surprise.

I was a little worried that Ellie might inadvertently see something online about me being replaced as the host of Hot Mess, but I’d gotten lucky there.