30. Gianni

Chapter thirty

Gianni

Thursday, March 20, 2025

I know it’s my birthday, and she’ll probably give me shit for it, but the flower on my counter is finally starting to look a little droopy. So here I am, nervously standing on her doorstep with a bouquet that’s twice as large as the last as I wait for her to open the door.

“Coming!” I hear her yell from inside, and my dick twitches automatically, wishing she meant something else entirely.

The door opens wide a moment later, and there she is, wearing a pair of snug, light-wash jeans and a white cropped band tee. She looks like the best goddamn birthday gift I could’ve ever asked for, and it takes more effort than I’d like to admit to keep my jaw from scraping the ground.

“Hi!” she greets me cheerily, her lips glossy and even more kissable than usual as she smiles up at me expectantly. Her eyes widen as she takes in the flowers in my arms. “Gi! It’s your birthday. You didn’t need to get me anything!”

She called me Gi. Only my closest friends and family call me that. I kind of love hearing it from her.

“I know, but you’re hosting, so it’s only right, little red.” I give her a small smile, hoping she lets it go.

Rolling her eyes and waving me in, it appears she’s decided to have mercy on me.

“Okay, so I didn’t have time to cook or anything, and I forgot to ask if you have any allergies or if there’s anything you don’t like, but there’s this restaurant down the road that has everything . I mean, literally everything. Latin, Mexican, Italian, Polish, French, and some random things like burgers. So I got us an assortment.” She ushers me into the kitchen, Tiny and Rex already standing in there staring at the trays of food with stars in their eyes. “Oh, gross! Tiny, get out of the kitchen and wash your face or something!” she jokingly shouts at him, drool pooling from the sides of his jowls.

The sight makes me chuckle. “That sounds perfect. And full transparency—even if I were allergic to everything you got, I’d probably still eat it and hope an epinephrine pen and antihistamine would be nearby.”

She smacks my chest. “Stop it! I don’t need you dying over here. Now grab a plate.” She pushes one into my hands, then begins piling food on her own. I like that she isn’t afraid to eat in front of me, and I like it even more that she isn’t afraid to take charge and go first, avoiding the awkward “You first, no, you first” situation that I dread. I take the time to swap out her flowers, washing and refilling the vase as she finishes making her plate .

Once satisfied with her loot, she digs in, leaning her hip against the counter as she watches me. “Okay, what movie are we watching?” she asks once I’m ready to take a seat.

“Anything you want, except for horror. Unless, of course, you want me sleeping over the next few weeks while you recover.”

Her cheeks heat as she looks up at me sheepishly from the end of the couch where she is now seated. “As much as I’d actually really like that, I’ll have to pass. You know, considering it’s your birthday, and I know damn well you’re afraid of scary movies.” She chuckles at herself.

“Wow, way to call me out, little red.” She isn’t even remotely wrong, but it feels good to hear that she’d like me here every night with her. I’d like that more than I care to admit.

“Your eyes were the size of saucers when I mentioned liking horror films. It was easy to tell.” She grins, but her expression turns somber. “You know, you aren’t hiding as much as you think you are behind that stoic expression.”

A weight sinks into my stomach.

“But it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” She reaches over to me, squeezing my thigh gently before readjusting back in her seat. “I’ll be here to talk if you ever want to though.” She smiles gently at me.

I give her a brisk nod, trying to keep from releasing the deep sigh fighting its way from my lungs. Lark scrolls through a seemingly endless stream of movies, finally landing on one. “Oh my gosh! Have you seen this yet? It looks so cute!”

On the screen is a movie called Puppy Love featuring Lucy Hale and Grant Gustin. The picture is of them lying in the grass with their dogs. “Looks good; let’s go for it. ”

“Yes!” she says excitedly as she presses play, setting her empty plate on the side table beside her.

Several minutes later, I’ve finished my food, and it takes her no time at all before she’s in my lap with her arms wrapped around my neck. The change in demeanor is almost startling to me, but I relax into her touch as she brings her lips to mine, pressing soft kisses to them.

My hands slide down her ribs, gripping her waist as she breaks our kiss, whispering gently in my ear. “I didn’t get you a present, but I’d let you unwrap me,” she says with a soft laugh.

I pull her more tightly to my chest, reveling in the feel of her body flush against mine. “Can I just…” I stop for a moment, fear that she’ll be disappointed seeping into me, but decide it’s better to know now if she isn’t okay with just hanging out. I’ll give her anything she wants, but I at least need to know.

“Just what, Gi?”

“Can I just hold you tonight?”

Her lips break out into the most beautiful smile, her white teeth gleaming at me before she presses a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to my cheek, pulling another laugh out of me as I wipe my cheek dry. “Nasty girl,” I scold jokingly.

Lark readjusts herself, scooting around to lie along the couch with her head in my lap now, ignoring my comment.

“Why didn’t you bring Pickles over?” she asks a few minutes later.

“Kat took her for the night. She said Tank needed another playdate, but I think she’s just decided to break her ‘no meddling’ rule.”

“What does that mean? A ‘no meddling’ rule?” I shouldn’t have mentioned that.

“My family and Kat’s brother, Kas, tend to play matchmaker, but not Kat. She avoids getting involved in other people’s business, but it seems she’s recently started. In Kat’s perfect world, she’d be completely off-grid where it’s quiet and low-key.”

“That sounds pretty nice,” she answers. “But I can’t deny that I also love the loud, probably annoying things that quiet people don’t enjoy.”

That piques my interest. “Like what?”

“Well,” she hums, “I love live concerts, raves, comedy shows, parades, fairs, festivals, all of it. Basically anything with music, art, or roller coasters.”

“What kind of music do you like?”

“Everything.” She laughs. “I have an eclectic taste, to put it plainly. I’d say my favorites are anything two thousands, electropop, and death metal.”

“Death metal?” I breathe in disbelief.

“Yep.” She snorts. “I love a good headbanger.”

God, this woman.

“Your turn.”

“I also like just about everything, aside from country music anyway. But I’m really into rock of all genres.”

“Very good answer. You’ve officially won additional brownie points.” She smirks up at me before turning her attention back to the screen.

** *

Hours go by as we watch movie after movie, only taking a break to put the food away and let the dogs out before bed.

“Hey, birthday boy,” Lark says with her arms wrapped around my neck as I stand by the front door, trying to convince myself to leave.

“Yes, little red?”

Her eyes look glassy with exhaustion, but she wears a small, pleased smile. “Sleep over tonight?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I admit, lifting her into my arms and backing her into her room, pressing a kiss to her jaw.

She hands me a new toothbrush from a pack under her sink when we get to the bathroom, and we brush our teeth together, getting ready for bed. It feels so… domestic? I’m not sure since I’ve never actually been in a relationship, but I imagine this is what it’s like. Doing normal, everyday things together that just feel like more .

Once we’re in bed together, the dogs happily snore at the end. I tuck Lark under my arm, drawing her into me and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Goodnight, birthday boy,” she says sleepily.

“Goodnight, ma petite rouge .”