16. Ellie

ellie

. . .

Later that night, after I was finished at Etoile, I met up with Winnie in the kitchen—my family’s personal kitchen, not the one at the restaurant, where Gianni was still closing up. I was exhausted, but I’d promised Winnie we could have a glass of wine so I could give her the full scoop on the last two days.

I opened a bottle of wine, poured two glasses, and put some light snacks on a platter for us—cheese, crackers, nuts, dried fruit, olives. It reminded me of sitting on the bed with Gianni, a pile of gas station snacks between us. Definitely less sophisticated, but no less tasty in the moment. I remembered his idea about a tasting with good wine and inexpensive snacks—I still liked it. Maybe I’d add it to the summer lineup of events.

As I was setting the platter on the marble kitchen island, I heard a knock on the back door, which I’d left unlocked for Winnie. Then it opened. “You here?” she called out.

“I’m here. Come on in.” I brought the two glasses of wine to the island, sat on one of the counter stools, and ditched my flats. “How were the roads?”

“Not too bad. Dex actually let me drive myself.” She took off her boots, tossed her coat onto the back of a chair and came and sat on the stool next to me. After work, she’d changed into jeans and a blue cowl-necked sweater that brought out the color of her eyes. It was a shade that would have looked nice on Gianni too, although his eyes were a deeper blue than Winnie’s. “But I have to text him when I’m leaving, even though he’s already asleep.”

“He’s working tomorrow?” Dex was a firefighter and worked twenty-four-hour shifts, starting at seven in the morning.

“Yes. So I’m not in a rush to get back tonight, since he’s gone to bed already.” Her eyes gleamed over the rim of her glass as she took a sip. “Tell me everything . The long version.”

I started with the disastrous dinner at Fiona Duff’s house—how everyone had paid so much attention to Gianni, the way I’d struggled to hold anyone’s attention, the offer he’d gotten from Fiona at the end of the night.

Winnie paused with an olive halfway to her mouth. “No way. She offered the spot to him?”

“Not just the spot, but the cover .” I shoved a dried apricot in my mouth. “I was in the car already, so I didn’t hear it or I’d probably have died on the spot.”

“So he told you about it when he came out?”

“No. He waited until we’d already had sex, of course. He must have felt guilty or something.”

“Okay, back up.” Winnie reached for another olive. “I need to know how the sex got started. When you two left here on Monday, you swore you wouldn’t sleep with him if he was the last guy on earth.”

“And I meant it.” I frowned. “It must have been the blizzard. I think I lost my mind.”

Her eyes grew big as I told her about pulling off the road, finding the Pineview Motel, and discovering our room only had one bed.

Winnie grinned. “You must have about died. I wish I could have seen your face.”

“I was not pleased,” I said, able to laugh about it now. “The two of us stood there staring at it, and there wasn’t even a couch or anything for one of us to sleep on. We had to share the bed.”

“So then what?”

“Then there was some crying, some wine, some junk food.”

“Crying?”

“I was upset about the evening—and mind you, I didn’t even know about the offer he’d gotten yet. I was just disappointed in myself and embarrassed that I’d let such a great opportunity slip through my fingers somehow.”

“I’m positive that had nothing to do with you and everything to do with Lick My Plate and Fiona Duff’s bottom line.”

“Maybe. Anyway, we just hung out—sat on the bed and drank wine and ate shit and played Truth or Drink on my phone.”

Winnie laughed. “Did you learn anything interesting about him?”

“Not really.” I munched on a cracker. “He’s pretty much exactly who you think he is—a twenty-three-year-old guy who loves food and sex and never wants to sit still or grow up. Al though ,” I went on coyly, “he did surprise me in one way.”

“Which was?”

“He’s very good in bed,” I admitted. “Generous. Patient. Attentive.”

“Stop skipping ahead!” Winnie grabbed her wineglass. “How did it happen ?”

I tried to recall exactly how we’d ended up naked between the sheets. “We had a big fight about something, and he ended up chasing me around the room.”

“What was the fight about?”

“About the seven minutes thing. We argued about who was to blame for the fact that we never actually kissed in that closet.” I explained what had actually gone down that night, and Winnie’s jaw nearly hit the marble counter.

“Shut up! So after all that, you asked him to kiss you and he didn’t? After lying to get you in there and then going through all that trouble to get you to say yes?”

I nodded. “It was infuriating. And humiliating. Anyway, he sort of roped me into giving him a second chance at that kiss, and then things went on from there.”

“So was it just the one time?” Winnie asked.

I popped an olive into my mouth. “Nope. It was so good we did it again like an hour later, and I initiated it. And there was no faking. Not once.”

She laughed and tapped her glass to mine. “I’m very proud of you.”

“We had a good time.” I sighed and took a sip of wine. “It wasn’t until afterward that things went south. That’s when he admitted that Fiona had offered him the Tastemaker cover, and in addition”—I hesitated here, because I wasn’t sure if I was betraying a confidence by telling Winnie about Hot Mess, but Gianni hadn’t said it was a secret, had he? And I trusted her. “He’s leaving Etoile.”

She gasped. “Seriously? Already?”

“April,” I said. “He has another reality show offer. But don’t say anything about it. It’s not really public yet.”

“I won’t say a word. What’s the show about?”

I gave her the gist of it, and she laughed.

“Sounds perfect for him. But kind of a bummer he’s leaving Etoile.”

“No, it isn’t. Good riddance, if you ask me.” I tried to sound like my old self, the one who couldn’t stand Gianni Lupo, the one who resented him for being so hot and successful, the one who didn’t know how he kissed or touched or tasted. The one who’d be glad to see him go, not the one who’d always wonder if we could have been good together.

Winnie spread brie on a cracker. “I thought everything was better with you guys.”

“It was . In fact we spent all of yesterday and last night having a really good time. And then this morning, he dropped another bomb on me.”

Winnie’s eyes went wide as she took a bite.

“That whole thing about his SUV being dead? It was a lie. He made it up.”

“ Why ?”

“So he could have me to himself for one more night at the motel.”

Winnie started to choke and had to get up and get herself a glass of water. After grabbing a glass from a cupboard, she filled it at the sink and guzzled it. Then she turned to face me. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Gratified by her reaction, I went on. “That asshole kept me prisoner a whole other day and night, like I was his toy.”

“Wow,” said Winnie. “What a jerk.” Then her expression changed. “But it’s kind of sweet too.”

I gaped at her. “No, it isn’t, Winnie! He lied to me. To suit his own selfish purposes. He was only thinking about himself.”

She sighed. “Yeah. You’re right—it was shitty of him. But it’s kind of cute that he wanted to be alone with you that badly. And that he confessed. He must have felt bad.”

“I didn’t see it that way. I saw it as just one more way he messed with me. I was furious, especially since—” I stopped myself.

“Since what?”

I played with the stem of my wineglass. “I don’t even want to say it out loud.”

“Do it anyway.”

I pursed my lips. “Since I was . . . having some feelings.”

“Feelings? For Gianni?” Winnie was suitably shocked.

“Maybe just one feeling.” I took a breath as the memory of being skin to skin with him washed over me. “But it was a nice one.”

Winnie took it in slowly as she walked back around the island to take her seat again. “Are you sure it’s gone?”

“Yes. It was snuffed out like a candle as soon as he told me about the lie. Because that’s when I knew he hadn’t changed—he’s still that same kid who tortured me all through school, and dunked me fifty times just for the hell of it, and made me want to kiss him in a closet then refused to do it. He’s a game player and always will be. He’s gorgeous,” I went on grudgingly, “and we have some good chemistry, but he’s too immature and self-centered for me. He doesn’t even want to grow up. He just wants to run around and set things on fire. And I’d be stupid as hell to waste my time hoping he’ll change.”

Winnie said nothing for a minute. “Well, I guess now you know.”

“Now I know,” I said with finality. “And I can move on.”

And I did.

At least, I tried.

It was hard with Gianni right there all the time. He accepted the offer to do Hot Mess, but production wasn’t starting until April, and in the meantime, we still had to work together.

But just when I was positive he couldn’t change his ways, he kept his word not to bother me anymore.

He stopped coming to the tasting room to antagonize me. He didn’t tease me in the kitchen at Etoile. When we had meetings or discussions about the menu, he was professional and polite—no cocky attitude, no boasting, no dirty jokes, no flirty references to anything that had happened between us. It was just like he promised.

I was totally baffled.

Worse? I missed the attention—not that I’d admit it to him.

Then one morning, about two weeks after the blizzard, he came to the tasting room to tell me he’d turned down Fiona Duff’s offer.

“I hope you didn’t turn it down because of me,” I said, even though part of me was desperately hoping that was exactly why he’d turned it down.

“There were several reasons. You were one of them.” He shrugged. “It didn’t feel right.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, I just wanted you to know.” He gave me an impersonal smile and started to walk away.

“Gianni!” I blurted, because I didn’t want him to leave.

He faced me again. “Yeah?”

I wanted to tell him how much I appreciated the gesture and give him a hug and feel the warm strength of his body against mine again. I wanted to confess that I thought about him way more than I should. I wanted to say the words— I miss you. I pushed you away because I was scared.

But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“Um, thank you. For telling me.”

“You’re welcome.”

As he walked away, I felt like crying.

Days passed.

Occasionally I’d catch him looking at me across the dining room, or see him walk past the tasting room and pause like he might come in, but he never did. Every time, my breath would catch and I’d hope for something from him, some sign that he was thinking of me too, that he couldn’t stay away, couldn’t keep his promise.

But he kept it.

At night, I’d lie in bed and remember his kiss, his touch, his hot, hard body over mine. Sounds he made and words he’d growled. Secrets he’d shared and those I’d given up. The intensity of our connection. The pulse of his orgasm inside me. The soft, quiet moments afterward, lying in his arms. The final morning I’d woken up and thought, maybe...maybe.

But it had only been a dream. Or worse—a game of make-believe. Whatever I’d imagined between us was clearly one-sided. And if I gave into the temptation to be with him again, I’d only be handing him the chance to break my heart for real. I hadn’t lasted all this time— years of resisting the pull of him—to fall apart now. I just needed to stay strong and wait out this agonizing interim where he was here , but not with me .

Weeks went by this way.

A month.

The snow melted, Abelard and Etoile were swamped over Valentine’s Day, and an early thaw meant spring tourism would pick up even sooner than usual. I kept my nose to the grindstone and focused on my job—there was plenty to do between pruning and planting in the vineyard and working the floor at Etoile at night. I was beyond exhausted when my head finally hit the pillow. Winnie and I also planned summer events for guests, and every day I saw the glow on her face grow more radiant when she spoke about her hopes for the future with Dex.

In the meantime, I grew more grouchy and sullen. My complexion, always pale in winter, grew sallow and greenish. I didn’t feel right in my skin, and all I wanted to do was nap or eat junk. My bad ankle still hurt, and my foot got weirdly swollen—actually both my feet. I was in a bitter, foul mood all the time, nothing could lift me out of it—not Friends , not peanut butter and M&M’s, not even wine, which didn’t even appeal to me these days. I figured it was my body’s way of telling me I’d been consuming too much sugar, alcohol, and salt, so I cut them from my diet and tried to get more exercise and more sleep. But March arrived, and I still felt bloated and exhausted all the time. Then one day I went to get dressed for work and popped the button off my pants trying to get them on.

At first, I just rolled my eyes at the annoyance—I was already running late and didn’t have time to sew a button. I was rifling through the hangers in my closet, hunting for another pair of pants that would fit my bloated belly when something occurred to me.

I froze.

How long had it been since I’d gotten my period?

I couldn’t remember.

Okay, don’t panic , I told myself, calmly walking over to my bathroom. I looked under my sink and took out a box of tampons—it was unopened. Had I emptied a previous box and forgotten about it? I stared at my wretched face in the mirror and tried to think. I’d had one period in early January for sure...but after that, I couldn’t recall one.

My heart began to pound. Was it possible I was pregnant ?

With Gianni Lupo’s baby ?

I dropped the box of tampons and put both palms to my hot cheeks. No. No way. Gianni had worn a condom every time.

Except for those five minutes against the wall…

No.

I hurried out of the bathroom, refusing to believe it. There was no way those five minutes could have such catastrophic consequences.

I grabbed my phone and checked the time—just after nine. If I hurried, I could make it to the pharmacy and back before my eleven o’clock tasting. I’d have to cancel coffee with Winnie downstairs, but I’d make up an excuse like a headache or something. She knew I hadn’t been well.

And I was scared if I said the thing out loud, I might manifest it.

Trading my work blouse for a sweatshirt, I threw on a pair of jeans, shoved my pudgy feet into sneakers, and headed out.

Less than one hour later, I was back in my bathroom, staring at a big fat plus sign and trying not to be sick.

Two plus signs, actually, because I’d been sure the first test in the box had given me an erroneous reading. But I’d taken the second one and gotten the same result.

The test was positive.

I was pregnant.

My vision blurred and swam. Squeezing my eyes shut, I grabbed onto the sink and took a few deep breaths. When I opened them again, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My face was gray. My eyes were bloodshot.

I was pregnant .

Dropping to my knees, I vomited into the toilet until my stomach was empty, my entire body shook, and tears streamed down my face.

I curled into a ball on my bathroom floor and lay there sobbing, pounding a fist against the tile floor. This was so unfair ! It was just a blizzard bang! It wasn’t supposed to have permanent consequences! I was only twenty-three and totally unprepared for motherhood! And what about Gianni? Jesus Christ, if ever there was a guy unfit to father a child at twenty-three, it was Gianni Lupo.

What were we going to do?

At some point, I realized I couldn’t stay on my bathroom floor all day—I had responsibilities at work. Guests were waiting for me. My family was counting on me.

I dragged myself off the floor and did the best I could to clean up my face, avoiding the sight of those pregnancy tests. In my closet, I found a pair of pants that fit and a top that I didn’t have to tuck in. I pulled my hair back, covered my splotchy face with makeup, disguised my puffy red eyes with liner and shadow, and applied the brightest red lipstick I had, hoping it would distract people’s eyes from anything else on my face.

Pausing for a couple deep breaths, I told myself all I had to do was handle a few hours of work. Then I could come back up to my room and fall apart again. Of course, I was scheduled to work at Etoile tonight, which meant coming face to face with Gianni, but I wouldn’t think about that yet.

One thing at a time.

Somehow, I made it through the day.

After my last tasting, I closed up the room and went upstairs to find Winnie. I had to tell someone or I was going to go crazy.

I found her in my mom’s office, which was just off the lobby. The door was open, but I knocked on it. “Hey.”

She looked up, and at first she smiled, but it quickly faded. “What’s wrong?”

“Got a minute?”

“Of course. Come in.”

I entered the office and perched on the edge of a chair across from the desk while Winnie shut the door. “What’s going on?” she asked, coming to sit in the chair next to me.

I pressed my knees together and looked down at them. Took a deep breath. “It’s bad.”

“How bad?”

I met her worried eyes. “Bad,” I said, my voice cracking, my eyes filling. “And I’m so alone.”

She leaned forward and took my hand. “You are not alone. You will never be alone. Tell me what’s going on.”

I closed my eyes, tears spilling over. “I’m pregnant.”

She gasped, then immediately popped out of her seat to hug me. I rose to my feet and clung to her, sobbing on her shoulder. I’d held it in all day, and it felt so good to finally let everything out. Winnie held me and rubbed my back, saying nothing, just being there, which was what I needed.

After a few minutes, I calmed down enough to let her go and grab a tissue. “Sorry,” I said before blowing my nose. “I just made a mess of your shirt.”

“Forget my shirt,” she said. “Ell, are you sure? About the—the—” She gestured vaguely at my stomach.

“Baby,” I said, grabbing a second tissue. “And there’s no use avoiding the word, because I’m as sure as two positive pregnancy tests can be.”

“What if it was a false positive?”

“Twice?” I blew my nose again. “No. Plus, it explains a lot of other symptoms. I have not felt right in a month. And this morning, I popped a fucking button off my pants.”

For a second, I thought Winnie was going to laugh, but she just pressed her lips together. “Is it...from the time with Gianni?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“You guys didn’t use protection?”

“We did,” I protested. “Every time! Except—except for those five minutes.”

“Five minutes?”

“We got a little carried away the second night, and there were a few minutes we didn’t use a condom. But I guess that’s all it took. Or else the condoms failed.”

Winnie sighed. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Nope. It sure doesn’t.” I closed my eyes, fighting off more tears. “God, Winnie. What am I going to do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want to go back in time and tell him to get off me!”

She couldn’t quite hide her smile. “I bet.”

“It was just a blizzard bang!” I started pacing. “It wasn’t supposed to count! You even said it wouldn’t count!”

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t exactly think it through this far .”

“Clearly we didn’t either.” I stopped moving and buried my face in my hands. “Oh, God. I have to tell him, don’t I?”

“Yes, Ellie. You do.”

“Jesus, I have to tell my parents too.”

“Well, yes. I mean, they’d probably notice the belly eventually.”

I sank into the chair again. “My dad will be so disappointed. And my mother...I cannot even imagine what my mother will say.”

Winnie knelt at my feet, placing a hand on my arm. “She’ll be supportive, Ellie. They both will. I mean, maybe they’ll even be happy.”

“I’m about to make Mia a grandmother , Winnie. Does that strike you as something she’ll be happy about?”

“Umm . . .” Winnie looked to the left.

“God.” I dropped my face into my hands. “This is such a nightmare. I don’t know what to do. I’m too young for this. And Gianni is worse.”

“You could give the baby up for adoption,” Winnie suggested. “My aunt April did that when she got pregnant at eighteen. She said she couldn’t give the baby the kind of life he would deserve, and it was the hardest thing she’s ever done, but it was right. You’ve met my cousin Chip—he’s had an amazing life!”

“I thought about Chip today,” I said quietly. “But I just don’t think I could give a baby up. I’m not a teenager. I’m done with school, and I have a good job and a beautiful home. I could give a child a good life, I’m just...scared.”

“Don’t be.” She squeezed my hand. “You’ll be a great mom, even if you have to do it on your own.”

“Oh, I’ll definitely have to do it on my own. Gianni is on his way out of here in one month.”

“But he doesn’t know about the baby,” Winnie argued.

“Doesn’t matter.” I shook my head, every ounce of my body alive with stubborn refusal. “Gianni and I talked about this, and he does not want to stay here. He said he wasn’t sure he ever wanted a family, let alone right now, and I’m not about to tie him down with one.”

“Maybe he’ll change his mind once he?—”

“No.” I dug in my heels. “I will not be the reason he doesn’t chase his dreams, or the person he blames for being stuck in a dead-end life.”

“Ellie, I know you’re mad at him, but I’ve known Gianni a long time, and I don’t think he’d ever do that.”

“Fine, but I’m going to make it clear that I don’t expect anything from him. I don’t want to be his obligation . I can take care of myself. And this baby.” I put a hand over my stomach, and a shiver moved through me. It was the first time I’d thought of the little being in my belly in any concrete way. Suddenly I found myself wondering whether it was a boy or girl. What color eyes he’d have. What color her hair might be.

God . . . this was real .

“When will you tell him?” Winnie asked gently.

“I don’t know.” I fought tears again. “I need some time to get used to it. It’s my body, and I’m the one who’ll have to carry it and explain it and give birth to it.”

“You’re not alone, Ellie.” Winnie’s voice was firm and reassuring. “I’m here. Your family will be here for you. My family will be here for you. So will Gianni’s—I know it. And you’ve always wanted kids.”

I nodded, my throat closing up. I wondered what Gianni’s parents would say about this...Would his mom cry? Would his dad be angry? Jesus, this would make them grandparents too. It was so much all at once. “Yeah. It’s just not how I wanted kids. Or when. Or with who.”

“I know.”

The tears came again, and I slashed at them with both hands. “Fuck. I can’t fall apart. I have to work.”

“Can’t you take a night off?”

“No. We’re totally booked, and there’s no one to cover me.”

“I can pour wine. And I’ve certainly heard you talk enough about the wine list to be somewhat helpful. Let me fill in for you.”

“Okay,” I said, grateful for her. I needed to go upstairs and cry this out, and I didn’t want to break down in front of Gianni, which was sure to happen the moment I saw him. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. I’ll just call Dex in a minute and let him know.”

I swallowed hard. “Winnie, I have to tell you something else.”

“Lay it on me.”

“You know how I said I’d developed a feeling for Gianni but then it was snuffed out when I discovered his lie about the car?”

“Yeah?”

“I lied.” I dabbed at the corners of my eyes with a tissue. “It’s not snuffed out. It’s still there, refusing to die no matter how much I try to smother it.”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a feeling about you too?”

“Yes, I’m sure! He barely even speaks to me.”

“But you told him not to.”

“For my own protection! Look, I’ve known him my entire life. He doesn’t have those kinds of feelings. He doesn’t even want them. And he won’t want this baby either.”

Winnie sighed. “Why don’t you take some time for yourself before you tell him, okay? Think. Breathe. And sleep—you look exhausted.”

“I am exhausted,” I said, taking a shuddery breath. “Okay. If you don’t mind, I’ll take the night off.”

“Good.” She stood up and looked at her clothing. “Am I dressed okay?”

I nodded as I rose to my feet. “Yeah. Thanks, Win. I owe you one.”

She smiled. “I think I’d make a good godmother, if you’re taking names.”

Bursting into tears again, I threw my arms around her.