Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(88)

“Yes,” I said, laughing. “But it’s so annoying the way you can just talk people into anything.”

“Well, I also had to agree to let her daughter design and sell merch for me for her economics class project.” He exhaled. “I’ll probably regret it, but soon you will be able to purchase a Too Hot to Handle hot pad with my face on it.”

“Serves you right.” I thumped his chest. “But speaking of classes, what would you think about some cooking classes at Etoile?”

“Kids or adults?”

“I was thinking adults, like as part of a weekend package, but you know what? Kids’ classes would be fun too! Like in the summertime? You’d be so great at that.”

“I don’t know anything about kids. Except how to act like one. You think I’d be good with them?”

I laughed. “Yes, I do. I think it will come naturally to you. By the way, my mother confirmed what you told me—that it was you who carried me into the house after I bloodied my knees.”

His grin was smug. “Told you.”

“I was wrong. But I’m right about you being great with kids. What do you think?”

He put his hands behind his head. “Yeah. I like that idea. Let’s do it.”

“I’ll talk to Winnie and we can start planning.” I started to get out of bed, and he grabbed my arm.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

“To work! It’s, like, noon, Gianni. We can’t stay in bed all day.” Although looking at him, lying there naked and tousled and giving me that look, it was tempting.

“Five more minutes?”

I gave in and let him pull me back into bed next to him. “Okay. Five more minutes. But in exchange, you have to promise me you’re not going to keep big secrets anymore.”

“This wasn’t really a secret—it was more like a surprise. And I love surprises.”

I groaned as I snuggled up to him once more. “I feel like that does not bode well for me.”

“They will all be good. I promise.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “All I want to do is be good to you.”





“Oh! I almost forgot! I have something for you.” We were just about to leave his apartment and head to Abelard when Gianni tugged on my arm. “Come sit on the couch.”

“Gianni, I’m already late,” I said impatiently. “I gave you five more minutes, which turned into twenty.”

“Please just sit,” he cajoled. “One minute, I promise.”

Sighing with exasperation, I let him pull me over to the couch and sat down. “I don’t know why I keep believing your promises, but okay.”

“Close your eyes.”

I did as he asked, and a moment later, he placed something in my lap.

“Okay, you can look.”

I opened my eyes and saw a rectangular package clumsily wrapped in red and green paper that said Happy Holidays on it. I started to laugh. “Christmas paper?”

“Yeah,” he said sheepishly. “Sorry. It was all I had.”

“It’s okay.” Carefully, I slid my fingers beneath the tape and peeled away the paper. Then I gasped. “Oh my God!”

It was a photo frame with the ultrasound picture inside it. On the wide white matting beneath the picture was written love at first sight in lowercase cursive letters.

“It’s our baby,” he said proudly, as if I might have thought he’d stuck some stranger’s ultrasound in the frame.

“I can see that. It’s adorable.” I looked at it for a moment, then hugged it to my chest and looked up at him with misty eyes. “I love it. Our baby’s first photo.”

“I got it at Target,” he said. “And I almost bought a ton more stuff. I’ve never even been down those aisles before. They’ve got everything for babies. It’s crazy!”

“It is.” I stood up and hugged him. “I’m sure we’ll be spending a lot of time and money there, but this is the first baby gift I’ve gotten. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and kissing the top of my head. “It’s the first of many. I want to give you everything.”

And even though I was in a hurry and would probably be a little late for my first tasting, I stayed right where I was, in his arms, chest to chest, our baby cradled between us.

It felt like home.





TWENTY-FIVE





ELLIE





LATE JULY





“Ell! Are you ready to go?” Gianni called from downstairs.

I was in our bedroom, trying to get my shoes tied, but it was a challenge now that my belly had grown bigger. Our little plum had grown to the size of an eggplant, according to the books, but my stomach was already the size of half a watermelon. Bending over also made me dizzy.

I sat on the bed and tried to bring one foot up and grasp the laces, but the baby—it was a girl we planned to name Claudia, for Gianni’s mom—decided to throw a tantrum about it and kicked me vigorously. “Oof,” I said, dropping my heel to the floor and putting both hands on my abdomen. “Okay, okay.”