Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(89)

Gianni appeared in the bedroom doorway, looking impatient. “Hey, I should be there already. Can I help you with anything?”

“Yes.” Leaning back on my elbows, I stuck my feet out. “Tie my shoes. Your daughter beat me up when I bent over to do it.”

He grinned and entered the room, kneeling at my feet. “I got this.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t kick your mother,” he said to my belly as he tied one sneaker, then the other. “It’s our only night off this week, and we’re going to the Cherry Festival.”

“It won’t be that big a deal if we’re late,” I said. “Felicity is manning the Etoile booth, and Winnie is with her. My parents are both there too.” Since it was Monday, Etoile was closed tonight, so everyone would be at the festival.

“I know, but . . .” He finished and stood up. “I’m just excited.”

I laughed. “You’re like a kid.”

“Can’t help it. I still like the rides. And remember how awesome I am at the dunk tank?”

“I remember.” I held out a hand, and he took it, gently pulling me to my feet. “Even though sometimes I’d like to forget.”

He kissed me. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” I said. “She’s just been extra active today. Can’t sit still, just like her dad.”

“Uh oh.” He grinned as we left the bedroom and headed down the stairs, still hand in hand. “I hope the universe is not going to get back at me for being such a rowdy kid by giving me a little fireball daughter.”

“Maybe she’s going to be a Rockette,” I said, putting a hand over the swell of my stomach, where she was currently practicing her kick ball change.

“That would be cool.” We reached the bottom of the stairs, and Gianni grabbed his keys from the little table by the front door.

I glanced at the living room wall, where all the photos of us still hung. I knew it was sort of obnoxious to keep them up, but I couldn’t bear to take them down yet—I’d just moved in here a few weeks ago. He’d been asking me to live with him since May, but I’d wanted to be sure we were ready for that.

“Ellie, come on,” he’d said insistently. “We’re ready.” We were lying in bed, still breathless, our heartbeats slowing. Always nervous about the baby, he’d rolled to my side and gathered me close. “I want to be with you all the time. I know it’s more convenient for you to live right at Abelard because of work, but I promise there are lots of benefits to living with me too. Like orgasms when and how and wherever you want them.”

I laughed. “That is tempting.”

“I got this bigger place because I was hoping to share it with you one day. And I hate going to sleep without you next to me.”

“Me too,” I admitted, propping myself up so I could look at him. “I just lie in my bed and wish I was here.”

“I love you, Ellie.” His voice was soft and serious. “I have never said those words to anyone before. And now that I know what it should feel like, I’m glad I didn’t, because it would have been a lie.” He looked at me the way I’d always dreamed of. “You’re everything to me. You’re the one.”

I’d smiled as my eyes filled. “I love you too. And yes—I’ll move in.”

Gianni had offered to take the photos of us down, but they made me so happy to look at. There was a new one too—our Tastemaker cover, which had us dressed in black tie with Gianni seated at a table in Etoile and me standing next to him, pouring a bottle of sparkling wine over his head. It was sexy and irreverent and fun, just like the piece inside about us, and it was fantastic publicity for Abelard.

Every time I saw those photos on the wall, I remembered him saying, ‘There’s always been an us.’ It made me shiver with joy every time—including now.

“Are you cold?” he asked me. “Want me to grab a sweater for you?”

“It’s eighty degrees, Dad. I’m fine.” I laughed and ruffled his hair. “I’m just excited. We haven’t been to the Cherry Festival together in a long time. Since we were seventeen, to be exact.”

“I know,” he said, glancing behind me at the photos. “You’ll have a better time tonight. I promise.”

“Are you finally going to kiss me in a closet?” I teased.

“I will kiss you anywhere you want.” Even though we were running late and he wanted to get out the door, he put his arms around me and pressed his lips to mine. “I love you.”

I shivered again. Hearing him say the words was always a thrill. “I love you too.”

“Come on, let’s go.” His blue eyes were bright with excitement.

If I hadn’t been so distracted, I might have seen the mischief in them.





Several hours later, I walked over to the small Etoile tent, where Felicity was grilling mini paninis with gruyere, greens, and cherry bourbon jam. I grabbed one from the tray, and she laughed. “You like them?”

“Can’t you tell? I’ve already had like five of them. They’re delicious.”

As I ate it, I slipped into the booth and dropped into a chair behind my mom, who was pouring Abelard wines into clear plastic cups. My dad was there too, talking with someone at the next booth. I’d lost Gianni somewhere, which wasn’t surprising, given the way he was determined to play every game, ride every ride, taste every food.