Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

" H i. We have reservations for two—Lord Luther Van Tiger Duke and Madame Jezebel McHuffinpuff the third."

Erin shot Giovanni a wide-eyed look as she pressed her mouth shut, trying not to laugh.

"Sir, this is a drive-through. We don't take reservations."

"Oh." He shot Erin a look of shock. "That's so weird. I thought…" He turned back to the speaker. "This is a little embarrassing. I've got this beautiful date in my car and all the restaurants in town are booked. Do you think you could throw something nice together for us? Cost is no object." He coughed. "As long as it's under twenty bucks. That's all I have on me."

They were going to call the cops on them, Erin thought. But instead, the voice crackled over the intercom and said, "Pull around."

Giovanni smiled and slowly drove to the window.

The glass opened and a woman in a red visor looked at him. "Lord Luther Van Tiger Duke and Madame Jezebel McHuffinpuff?"

"The one and only."

"Here you go, one Valentine's Day special." The window attendant bent down and revealed a picnic basket, hoisting it through the window as Giovanni pulled it into the car.

"Thanks. How much do I owe you?"

The girl looked down at something jotted on a piece of paper. "Uh, the toll is one kiss."

He glanced back at Erin. "You heard her, Madame. One smacker on the lips."

Erin didn't have a clue what was going on, but she loved everything he was doing. Unbuckling her seat belt, she shifted to her knees, leaned over the basket, grabbed his face, and kissed him—one smacker.

When she pulled away, he licked his lips. "For that, they should let us drive through again." He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. Turning back to the girl at the window, he slipped her a twenty. "Thanks."

"Enjoy your night."

Erin had a feeling they would do just that.

As soon as they pulled away she gaped at him. "How did you do that?"

"A little bribery and planning."

"Do you know her?"

He chuckled. "That's a trade secret."

"Oh, come on."

He shot her a cheeky grin. "She's my cousin Colin's kid."

Erin lifted the lid of the basket and he swatted her hand away. "No peeking."

"Where are we going?"

"Back to your place."

"Oh. I thought… Why did you have me get dressed up?"

"Because we're celebrating." He turned onto Main Street and focused on the road. "I screwed up. I shouldn't have gotten upset about missing your birthday. I overreacted."

He was apologizing to her? "Giovanni, it's not your fault. I would have told you, but I didn't want you to feel obligated to do something. We're still new."

He sent her a sidelong glance. "I would have done something because I wanted to. Not because of any sense of obligation."

"My birthday's never been a big deal." She never even blew out candles or opened presents. It used to upset her, but now she just thought of it as another day.

"I sort of figured that out." He turned onto her street. "My head's been up my ass. When I realized I was being a stubborn idiot, I wanted to call, but then I realized it was Valentine's Day, so I figured we'd do something special and I'd take you out, but everywhere I checked was booked." He glanced at the basket. "This is the best I could come up with."

"This is better."

"You don't even know what's in the basket."

"I don't need to know. This is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me on Valentine's Day." Or any day.

He smiled. "If we keep the bar that low, I'm gonna look real good by morning."

When they returned to the house, he carried the basket inside and asked her to put on some music. "Something romantic," he said as if she knew where to look for that.

She picked a station called Rat Pack Classics and connected her Bluetooth to her speakers. Sammy Davis Junior crooned and she guessed that might be considered romantic. "Is this oka?—"

Her words cut off as she entered the living room. A blanket covered the newly finished floors, rose petals sprinkled the room. Two taper candles burned beside a silver ice bucket where a bottle of champagne chilled.

"Oh my God…" She stared at the romantic spread, lowering to the blanket, her legs no longer sturdy.

"You like?"

"I love."

He reached into the basket. "I wanted to cook for you, so I gave Nona the night off. I hope you like peanut butter and jelly."

He handed her a sandwich, wrapped in a plastic lunch bag. She sniffed it and smiled. "It smells like school."

He smelled his sandwich. "I guess it does, a little." He withdrew two coffee mugs and poured her a glass of champagne. "This is the new trend. Everyone's doing it."

She accepted her mug and he clanked his to hers. "Happy Valentine's Day, Erin."

"Happy Valentine's Day."

The bubbles fizzed on her tongue and she giggled, loving the sharp flavor that went right to her head. He watched her nibble her sandwich, refilling her champagne mug before it ever had a chance to fully empty.

"I missed you," he told her again, and it worried her how much she liked knowing that someone cared enough to miss her, how he thought about her when she wasn't around.

Setting down her sandwich on a napkin, she leaned forward on her hands and knees and kissed him. "I missed you, too."

He studied her, and she sat back, trying to not freak out or second guess what he might be thinking.

"I have something else for you." He reached into the basket.

"There's more?"

"This isn't a Valentine's Day thing. It's a had-to-do-it thing."

She smiled, unsure what he was going to pull out of that magic basket but certain it would be amazing. Then her heart stopped.

He set a small lump of a cake in front of her and poked a candle in the top. "Happy birthday, Erin." He pulled a lighter from the basket and lit the candle.

It wasn't a pretty cake or even a level cake. "Did you make that?"

He nodded. "I cheated and used a box. It's just vanilla."

"Just vanilla," she repeated, her vision wavering as she stared down at the flickering flame.

He cleared his throat and sang softly, his eyes never leaving hers. " Happy birthday to you… " Each verse was more excruciating than the last, not because he was off key—Giovanni actually had a lovely crooning voice—but because no one, to her recollection, ever sang this song to her before.

Finn had always given her a birthday present each year when they dated, but he never sang and he never made her a cake. In grade school, her classmates often brought cupcakes in to celebrate their birthdays and the whole class would sing and clap and that student sometimes got to wear a special hat or lead the line that day.

She never brought anything in for her birthday, because no one at home acted as if it was special or made her something to bring. It was just another day, another year gone by. After a while, she believed her birthday wasn't a big deal, because no one ever acted like it was.

"Make a wish."

She looked up at him with flooded eyes, unable to prevent the tears from spilling over. Her throat tightened to the width of a pin, making it hard to talk or swallow. Her chest was hot and full, her stomach topsy-turvy like a ship lost at sea. She wanted to puke but also wanted to laugh or cry, and the strange thing was, all of those mixed up unpleasant emotions linked back to the incredibly satisfying happiness she felt in that moment. It was simply too much.

Could a heart break from too much joy or too much of a good thing? Hers seemed on the brink of shattering.

"Make a wish," he repeated.

She didn't know what to wish for. Friends? That the house sold? That her mom might someday find her? That she and Harrison could be close again? That her father was finally at peace? All of these things she wanted and worried for on a daily basis, but none of them felt wish worthy.

She held back her hair and leaned forward, setting her mind to what she wanted most at that moment.

I wish for him to always look at me the way he's looking at me now. She blew softly and the candle extinguished, the scent of smoke and hot wax snaking through the air.

He grinned, swiping a finger through a glob of icing and holding it out for her. She sucked it into her mouth and when she looked up at him again, he tackled her to her back and kissed her, laughing and smearing a streak of frosting down her cheek.

They didn't bother to find a fork. They fed each other bits of cake and he painted her lips and skin with strokes of sweet icing, licking each smudge away and leaving her wet and sticky.

The floor was hard under the blanket, but they were too content in each other's arms to find a bed. One by one, the candles burned out. Giovanni feasted on her body, and for once, she didn't panic or worry how things could go wrong. She simply savored the feel of his affection, pretending they could stay like this forever and his kindness would never end.

When she shivered, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed. The lights were off, but she wasn't ready to sleep. She wasn't ready to let this magical night end.

When he entered her again, he possessed her, warm and secure. His breath teased over her face, scattering soft kisses and whispering secret promises. The pain in her chest returned and the air in her lungs hardened, her stomach flipping and her eyes prickling as her mind tried to find balance among so many bubbling, happy emotions.

That night, Giovanni didn't just sleep with her. He made love to her. His deep affection was evident in every touch and kiss.

Did that mean he loved her? Did she want him to love her?

Of course, she wanted to be loved, all of her life she dreamed of someone loving her, but not just any love, because some loves were selfish and some loves turned bitter. She wanted a man to love her like the stars loved the sky.

Could he love her that way? Did she need him to love her that way? And didn't he deserve the same? She realized then and there, that the sloshy feeling in her stomach, the tightness in her chest, was, in fact, love.

She knew she'd fallen in love with him the moment she worried if she could love him the way he deserved, as deeply as the stars loved the sky.