Juniper Hill (The Edens #2)(67)

“Would you mind bringing her back?” My heart hammered as I spoke.

“Sure. Smells good in here. Did you make cookies?”

Memphis laughed.

“Yes. And you can eat them all.” My stomach was in a knot. “It’s just a few pictures but . . . damn. I wasn’t this nervous when Lester was coming to eat. What is wrong with me?”

“This article is a huge deal.” Memphis walked over, handing me Drake. Then she reached up to fix my hair. “When I worked in the city, I oversaw a lot of photo shoots. Everyone would get nervous. It’s normal.”

“Did you just make that up so I’d feel better?”

“Nope.”

“Stay. Don’t go anywhere, okay? I want you to be here.”

“Then we’ll stay.”

The door opened as I brushed my lips against hers. I broke away and looked up, ready to greet the photographer. Except the woman walking in behind Mateo was no stranger.

“Gianna?”

Memphis tensed.

What the hell was Gianna doing in Quincy? In my kitchen?

“Hey, Knox.” Gianna’s gaze held mine for a moment, then strayed to Memphis and Drake. She swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Good to see you.”

“You’re Gianna?” Mateo had rolled a large case in for her. He set it on its wheels, then crossed his arms over his chest. He looked to me and I gave him a slight headshake before he decided to toss her into a snowbank for breaking my heart years ago.

Gianna stepped out of the way as Mateo frowned and strode from the kitchen. Then she looked up and tucked a lock of her sleek black hair behind an ear.

“I didn’t realize you were the photographer,” I said. The magazine had simply said they were sending their photographer. I hadn’t asked for a name. Not in a million years would I have expected Gianna to step into my kitchen.

“I, um . . . I started with the magazine a couple of years ago.” So she’d known exactly where she was headed. She’d chosen to come here. Why?

The oven’s timer dinged and Memphis reached for Drake. “I’m going to give you a minute.”

“You don’t—”

“We’ll be back.” Before I could protest, she had Drake in her arms and was out the door.

Shit. I rubbed my beard, then took the cookies from the oven, setting them aside before facing Gianna again. “Why’d you come here, Gi?”

“It’s been a long time.”

I nodded. “It has.”

“I tried calling you a few times.”

“Yeah.” And I hadn’t answered.

“When I saw your name for this assignment, I thought . . .” She glanced at the door where Memphis had disappeared. “You look good. Happy.”

“I am happy.”

“That’s great. Really great.” She burst into action, shrugging the camera case off her shoulder. She unzipped it and pulled out the camera she’d always carried with her everywhere. “I saw a few places in the dining area that might be great. And this space too. I’d like to get some different angles and shots. Maybe even have you make something.”

“All right.” I watched as she inspected the kitchen, avoiding eye contact.

Gianna. For years, I’d wondered what I’d say if I saw her again. If my reaction would be full of anger or resentment. But as I stared at her, I was just . . . relieved. Life had been rocky for a while, but I ended up exactly where I’d needed to be—home in Quincy, waiting for Memphis.

“Let’s start in the dining space. Then we can move in here.” She lifted the handle of the case, carting it through the doors.

I followed, glancing around, hoping to find Memphis. But the space was empty.

Gianna set her camera on a table and bent to open the large case, lifting out a tripod. The lights came next, followed by extension cords and umbrellas. She moved with purpose, staging her equipment around a square table. It was the exact table where Lester had sat his second night in the restaurant.

“How is Jadon?” I asked.

“He’s good.” Gianna tugged her phone from her jeans pocket and opened it before handing it over. “It’s full of pictures. You can swipe through.”

I got stuck on the first one and my heart squeezed.

This was the baby I’d loved before he’d been born. This was the son I’d had for only weeks. The boy who would grow up and look like his real father.

Jadon’s hair was a shade lighter than Gianna’s. His eyes were green. They sparkled as he gave a toothy grin to the camera. Gianna didn’t have green eyes. She had brown eyes.

Maybe Gianna had seen it early on. Maybe that’s why she’d finally admitted the truth. Because as I stared at his picture, I knew the truth would have eventually come out.

Jadon had never been mine.

But Drake . . .

He wouldn’t resemble me either. He didn’t have my blood. He’d never share my DNA. And I didn’t give a damn. Drake was mine in a way Jadon never had been.

I set the phone down on the table. “He’s cute as ever. Growing fast.”

“Too fast.” She glanced toward the main doors, curiosity written on her face, but she didn’t ask about Memphis or Drake. “The restaurant is lovely. It’s very . . . you.”