17. Gianni

gianni

. . .

“Night, Gianni!”

I glanced up and waved at Malik, one of Etoile’s two servers, as he passed by the office on his way out for the night. “Later, Malik. See you Tuesday.”

It was Sunday night, and Malik was the last to leave. The kitchen was quiet. I looked down at the ingredients list I was making and discovered I’d only written down two things, even though I’d been sitting there for fifteen minutes. Lately, I’d been doing that, getting distracted and staring off into space, losing chunks of time to nothing but daydreams and memories.

And they were all about one person—Ellie Fournier.

Every day, I expected to wake up and discover she was out from under my skin, but it never happened. I was consumed by thoughts of her, and not just about her naked body or the fantastic sex or the unbelievable blowjob, but by conversations we’d had, ways she’d made me laugh, things I’d felt comfortable saying to her I’d never said to anyone. Every memory had me sinking deeper, and frankly, I was tired of it.

Was this what people meant when they said they were falling for someone?

It was fucking terrible! How could anyone like this feeling?

And why wasn’t it going away? Since our two days together at the motel, I’d done exactly what I’d said I would, which was leave her alone. I avoided the tasting room, because it was her space. In the kitchen, I was polite and respectful. If we ran into each other anywhere at work, I kept things friendly but formal. I never brought up our ancient history, I certainly never mentioned our recent history, and I kept my eyes where they belonged. Actually, I tried not to look at her too much at all, because looking at her made me think about touching her, and I’d sworn to keep my hands to myself.

It wasn’t easy.

I glanced at the calendar on the desk. It was mid-March, which meant I had just over two weeks left here. Would I make it without losing my mind?

What the fuck did you have to do to evict someone from your head?

I’d tried to distract myself with work—specifically, with training Felicity MacAllister, who would remain in charge of the kitchen at Etoile until the Fourniers found the right chef to replace me. They’d been disappointed when I asked to get out of my contract early, but they said they understood and wanted me to be happy. Every day, Felicity came in early to learn my routines, and every night, she worked alongside me. She was smart and creative, a quick study, asked excellent questions, had amazing recall and no ego. I had total confidence in her.

Which meant that work wasn’t a good enough distraction.

And I had to see Ellie there every night! Not that she paid me any mind. She did her job with a smile on her face, but the moment she came from the dining room into the kitchen, that smile would fade. She’d look at me for just a second, and sometimes I’d give her the old grin, hoping she’d smile back, but she’d quickly turn away, and my heart would sink.

Was she still intent on punishing me? It had been over a month already!

No. This cold silence between us was ridiculous. She was supposed to be the mature one, and she was acting like a child! I said I was sorry, and she said she forgave me, so why did we have to go around pretending like we were strangers? We’d had fun together, dammit! I fucking liked her.

Putting my pen down, I pushed my chair back and marched out of the office with my jaw clenched, determined to find her and end this nonsense.

She wasn’t in the dining room or tasting room, which was locked up and dark. In the lobby, I asked Kanani if she’d already gone home.

“I think she might be in the kitchen—the family kitchen,” she clarified, gesturing to a door that led to the private part of Abelard, where the Fournier family lived.

“Thanks,” I said, ignoring the sign on the door that said PRIVATE. I pushed it open and headed down the hall toward the kitchen, where the lights were still on.

When I burst in, I saw her sitting at the island, eating something that looked like a janky cake pop. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you.”

She glanced over her shoulder at me for half a second. “Why?”

I opened my mouth to go off on her, but got distracted by the thing in her hand. “Is that...” I squinted at it. “A spoon ?”

“Yeah. Dipped in peanut butter and M&M’s.”

Then I noticed the jar of peanut butter and giant bag of M&M’s on the counter. “Interesting.”

She took a bite off it. “Did you come here to judge me?”

“No. I came to tell you something.” Mad all over again, I strode across the room and stood next to her, chest puffed up. “Stop avoiding me. I want to be friends again.”

She said nothing. Took another bite.

I raised one hand and gestured with it. “I know what I did was wrong, and I apologized. I’ve been good. I’ve kept my hands to myself, even though it’s been difficult. Because the thing is, Ellie, you’re hot, and I fucking like you. Okay? There it is. I like you, and I can’t just stop liking you—believe me, I have tried. So what do you say? Can we be friends again?” I tried the old grin. “Maybe even friends with benefits?”

She kept eating that stuff on the spoon.

“Okay, bad joke. Sorry—unless you want the benefits, in which case they are definitely available—but I’m just saying that this silence is ridiculous. We might not get along perfectly, but you have to admit we had a good fucking time at that motel, and I don’t see?—”

“I’m pregnant, Gianni.”

“—any reason why we can’t...” Slowly, her words sank in. But they were out of place, not part of the script. “Wait, what did you say?”

She took another bite. “I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” I repeated, like I wasn’t sure what the word meant.

“Yes.” She looked at me over her shoulder. “Pregnant. With your baby.”

“That can’t be right.” My vision started to go gray at the edges. “We used a condom every time.”

“Almost every time.”

“No, we did! I remember! I put one on every single time!”

“If you recall, there were a few minutes where we were a little irresponsible.” She lifted her eyebrows, and in a heartbeat I had her back against that wall.

“But—but that was nothing! It was a moment of insanity! It was before the finish !”

“It was close enough.” She slid off the stool and walked around the other side of the island.

“This can’t be right. You took a test?” My guts churned. The room spun.

“I took two. And I saw the doctor.” She licked the spoon clean. “It’s right.”

“You saw the doctor already? How long have you known?”

“About ten days.”

“You’ve known for ten days and you’re just telling me now ?” I had to grab on to the back of the stool with both hands.

“I needed some time to process it. Decide what I was going to do. And I wanted to see the doctor to be certain—which I did, last Thursday.”

I shook my head. “This can’t be right.”

“Stop saying that!” Her eyes glared brightly. “I am pregnant, Gianni. And you know what? It doesn’t matter if it’s right or not, it’s real. And it’s all your fault.”

“My fault!” I gaped at her. “If I recall correctly, that time on the wall was your idea. You were the one who seduced me in the kitchenette!”

She sucked in her breath. “ Seduced you!”

“Yes!”

She flung the spoon at my head, and I ducked. “All I did was come up behind you and give you a hug! An innocent little hug to thank you for making dinner!”

“You said you wanted to rip my clothes off!”

She reached into the bag of M&M’s and hurled a handful of them at me. “Did not!”

“Did so!” I yelled back as the little multi-colored chocolates bounced off me and clattered to the floor.

“Well, you were the one who got so carried away you shoved your junk in me without wrapping it up first!”

I went around the island and got in her face. “And you were the one who kept telling me not to stop! I was going to!”

“ Bull shit!” More M&M’s pelted me—at close range this time.

“It’s true!” I shouted, although she was right, that was total bullshit.

“Nothing you say is true! You’re a liar.” Her eyes were on fire, and she was breathing hard. She swayed closer to me, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re a fucking liar. And I despise you.”

I inhaled, and her scent filled my head. I’d never wanted anyone as badly as I wanted her right then.

We went at each other like wolves.

Our mouths crashed together, tongues slashing, hands groping.

I hiked up her skirt. She yanked off my belt. I tore off her underwear. She shoved down my pants.

Fuck me like you hate me.

Inside a minute, I had her up on the island, driving my cock into her again and again, savagely, furiously, like I wanted to punish her for the way she consumed my every waking moment. For the way she’d pushed me away. For making me doubt everything I knew to be true about myself. And she seemed just as eager to take her rage out on me. She turned her face away when I tried to kiss her, she hissed in my ear, she pulled my hair, she slid her hands beneath my shirt and clawed my back, she sank her teeth into my shoulder as her body tightened and convulsed.

But Jesus Christ, I’d never come so hard in my life—my knees buckled as my body spasmed, and I had to let go of her and brace myself on the marble.

When it was over, she shoved me back and slid off the counter. I backed into the sink and dropped my head into my hands. “Fuck. Fuck .”

Facing away from me, she picked her underwear up off the floor and pulled it on, tugging her skirt down. Then she was still.

A few seconds passed. My heart began to slow. I put myself back together and fought the urge to wrap my arms around her from behind—she clearly didn’t want that.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry. I lost control.”

“I’m not blaming you, Gianni. I lost control too. But we can’t do that. We can’t...use each other like that. As punching bags.”

I wasn’t entirely sure that’s what we’d done, but her assessment seemed safer than admitting it could be anything else.

“Ellie. Look at me.”

It took her a couple breaths, but then she turned around and faced me, shoulders back. Chin up. Lower lip trembling.

My chest was caving in. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

“And the...” I swallowed with difficulty, glancing at her stomach. “Baby?”

“The baby is fine too. It’s barely the size of a kidney bean.”

For some odd reason, learning its size made me want to fucking cry. I felt suddenly and stupidly protective of that little kidney bean. My knees felt weak, so I went around the island and sat down, on the stool again, burying my head in my arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

“Yes. And no.”

“I’m going to have it.” Her tone was slightly defiant, as if she expected me to argue.

But I nodded slowly, realizing I was glad she’d made that decision, even if it meant my life had just drastically veered off course.

“I have an ultrasound scheduled for next week. You can come if you want.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a scan that shows you live images of the baby.”

I picked up my head. “Seriously? Like a livestream from inside your stomach?”

She almost smiled. “Kind of. Yes.”

“Who else knows about—about this?”

“Just Winnie. I haven’t told my parents yet.”

That surprised me. “You haven’t?”

“No. I wanted to tell you first. I only told Winnie because I’d just found out and I was desperate and scared.”

“Why didn’t you come to me right away?”

She looked down at her feet. “I just couldn’t.”

I was hurt that she felt that way, but some gut instinct told me to set my feelings aside. There were other things on the counter she might chuck at my head. The knife block was barely an arm’s reach away.

Something occurred to me. “The night Winnie filled in for you, when you didn’t feel good. This is why?”

Ellie nodded. “That was the day I found out.”

“That must have been . . . a shock.”

She laughed, a bitter sound. “Yeah.”

I leaned back in the chair. “When should we tell our parents?”

“I’m going to call mine tomorrow.” She looked down at the marble. “I’m—I’m a little nervous about what my mother will say.”

“You think she’ll be upset?”

“Yeah. Disappointed.”

I felt sweaty and slightly sick. “God, Ellie. I’m...I’m fucking lost. Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“But I’m the father. I feel like I should take some kind of responsibility.” Propping my elbows on the counter, I threaded my hands into my hair. “Should we get married or something?”

Her jaw fell open. “Is that a joke ? No, we should not get married! This isn’t the olden days where a woman is scorned for having a baby out of wedlock, Gianni. I don’t want a shotgun wedding. And you’re leaving for L.A. anyway.”

“Oh, fuck.” I palmed my forehead. “I forgot about Hot Mess. I’ll try to get out of it.”

“No! You can still do it.”

“But I’ll be gone for months, Ellie. The shoot is ten weeks long.”

“I know,” she said. “But the baby isn’t due until early October. And—and even then...you don’t have to do anything drastic. I understand the career path you want. I’ll be fine as a single mom.”

I frowned. “This is my child too.”

“I know it is, but I also know you , Gianni. I know what you want in life, and it isn’t this baby, it isn’t me, and it isn’t being stuck here.” Her eyes were shining, her lower lip trembled. “You like being free, remember?”

I was about to tell her she had no idea what I wanted when I remembered that wasn’t exactly true—we’d talked about this at the motel.

“I know what I said,” I began carefully, “but you have to give me a chance to adjust to this new”—I glanced at her belly—“development.”

“You told me the Hot Mess money was too good to pass up.”

“It is good money,” I conceded.

“And good exposure. A stepping stone.”

“But—”

“Look, this pregnancy was a mistake,” she said, fighting for control. “An unintended consequence of too much time together, too much snow, one small bed, and years of pent-up tension between us. I’m not suffering any delusions that we’re suddenly in love. And I’m not about to spend the next eighteen years of my life feeling like you gave up what you really wanted and settled for me just because we lost control one night at the Pineview Motel.”

I swallowed hard. “And tonight? What was that about?”

“Tonight was about anger. It was a temper tantrum, that’s all.”

I exhaled. Was she right?

“Go to L.A., Gianni.” She spoke softly now, all the anger gone. “When you get back, we can figure things out.”

I watched as the tears she’d tried to battle slipped down her face and felt like I was being torn in half. Part of me wanted to thank my lucky stars she was being so undemanding, run out the back door, and keep going until I hit California. But another part of me knew that would feel all wrong.

I remembered her telling me what she wanted in life—not just marriage and family, but the kind of love that filled a room. To know she was someone’s everything just by the way he looked at her.

This was . . . not that.

But my chest ached at the thought of a little Lupo boy, a troublemaker like his dad and uncles, or a sweet girl with huge brown eyes that melted my heart.

Just like Ellie’s were doing right now.

God, this was so fucking unfair. And as hard as it was for me, it was worse for her. She’d have to carry this baby for nine months and deal with everyone’s questions and judgment. Did she really want to do that alone?

Neither of us moved for a minute, and then I got up off the stool. She remained behind the marble island like it was a protective barrier, and maybe it was. But I wanted to be close to her. Put my arms around her. Hold her. Say the words out loud— everything is going to be okay.

But what came out was something else.

“Ellie, I’m—I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

“You can stop apologizing. It’s not your fault, and I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I wish things were different.”

She forced something like a smile as she wiped her eyes. “Well, like you said. We had a good fucking time at that motel.”

“It was more than that,” I said quietly.

“Don’t.” Her voice trembled. “Please don’t.”

My hands were clenched into fists at my side. At that moment, I nearly said to hell with it and vaulted that island so I could get my arms around her, but told myself to respect her body and her wish. I’d done enough damage, hadn’t I?

Forcing myself to turn around, I pushed the kitchen door open and walked away.

I barely slept that night, and when I woke up feeling like a zombie, I remembered why in an instant.

A baby. Ellie was pregnant with my baby.

And I was terrified.

I wasn’t prepared to be a father. I was only twenty-three! I still felt like a kid myself! And speaking of babies, I’d never changed a diaper. Or fed an infant a bottle. Or helped a kid get dressed or cross the street or read a story.

Babies were so fragile! You had to hold them a certain way or their heads would fall right off their necks. I didn’t know how to hold a baby!

I didn’t know anything .

Plus, I’d been a fucking hellion as a kid—a smart-ass, rule-breaking, back-talking, brother-punching, umbrella-smashing little asshole. What business did I have trying to raise a child?

I was immature and vain and egotistical. Food and sex were my two favorite things. I had a hot temper. I liked to sleep in. I threw darks and whites into the washing machine at once. I forgot to recycle. I never went to the doctor. I drove my car with the gas gauge on E for days. I didn’t make my bed, take vitamins, or drink enough water.

I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow. Ellie would probably be amazing at all the baby stuff. She probably knew everything—what they ate and how to hold them and why they cried all the time. She’d been the perfect child, hadn’t she? She’d listened to her parents and teachers. She would know instinctively how to bring up a child to be smart and kind and well-behaved. I’d know how to teach it to cook, that was all. And I couldn’t even do that until it was older. Kids weren’t supposed to be around stoves, right?

Maybe I’d only be in the way. Maybe Ellie really didn’t need me. Maybe she didn’t even like me. She probably figured she could do a lot better, and maybe she could.

I mean, not in the bedroom or kitchen, but maybe in other rooms of the house.

But she didn’t seem to want me around. Was she just letting me off the hook by telling me to go do Hot Mess? Or did she really want me gone? I couldn’t fucking tell.

Maybe I should just go do it. Give her space.

Besides, we’d need the money, wouldn’t we? Having a kid was probably even more expensive than opening a restaurant. If a restaurant failed, you could close it, but a kid was your responsibility for at least eighteen years. Better to have some cushion going into it.

It was settled. I’d do the show.

I got out of bed and headed for the shower, my mind made up.

Except five minutes later, it still wasn’t sitting right with me, leaving her so quickly. It felt like running away. And what were things going to be like when I returned?

I knew fatherhood was forever, and I intended to be a father to my child, but what was I going to be to Ellie? What did she want me to be? What did I want us to be?

I felt like I’d fallen overboard and couldn’t swim, couldn’t even tell which way was up.

Yesterday morning seemed very far away.

On the drive to Abelard, I decided I needed to tell my parents immediately. It didn’t feel right keeping this from them, even though I was worried they were going to blame me for everything. But first, I’d make sure telling them was okay with Ellie.

Even though Monday was her day off too, I figured I’d find her in the tasting room as usual, but she wasn’t there. I checked the restaurant, the Fournier kitchen and family room, and the front desk, but she wasn’t in any of those places. Toby, busy at reception, said he hadn’t seen her.

Worried, I texted her.

Hey. Are you working today?

I’m not sure. Feeling a little out of it.

Even more concerned, I typed three different questions and deleted them all before sending.

What’s wrong?

Duh.

Are you okay?

No, dickhead.

Can I do anything?

Yeah, fuck off.

Frowning, I typed something and hit send before I could talk myself out of it.

Are you hungry?

I’ll bring you breakfast.

No thanks.

While I was trying to think of something else to say, Winnie passed by me. “Morning, Gianni.”

“Morning.” I barely looked up from my phone, but then I thought of something and took off after her. “Winnie,” I said, following her into her office. “I want to bring Ellie something to eat. What’s something she likes in the morning?”

“Easy.” She smiled. “She adores these blueberry scones my mom makes. You’d have to go to her bakery downtown—it’s called Plum & Honey—but I promise, Ellie can’t resist them.”

“Thanks.”

Happy to have a mission, I raced out of Abelard, drove back into town, and picked up the scones. The woman behind the counter looked familiar and greeted me by name, so I figured it was Winnie’s mom.

“How are things at Etoile?” she asked as she rang me up.

“Good.”

“I’m Winnie’s mom, Frannie. Mack and I loved our dinner there. We keep meaning to come again, but it’s so hard to get in.”

“Nice to see you. And just let Winnie know when you’d like to come again. We’ll get you in.”

“Great.” She beamed as she handed me the bag of scones. “Are these for Ellie?”

“Yes. I heard she likes them.”

“They’re her favorite,” Frannie confirmed. “Say hello for me.”

“I will, thanks.”

When I pulled up behind Abelard, I texted Ellie that I had something for her and asked if she wanted me to bring it to her room.

She replied right away saying she was in the kitchen, but she didn’t need anything. Jumping out of the car, I knocked on the back door anyway, and she answered it wearing gray joggers and the Pineview Motel sweatshirt I’d bought for her.

“Hi,” I said, unable to keep a grin off my face. “Nice shirt. Brings back memories.”

“It’s the biggest thing I own. I’ll be wearing it a lot.”

“Can I come in?”

“Suit yourself.” She shut the door behind me and we went into the kitchen, where I set the bag from Plum & Honey on the table.

“I went to the bakery. Thought maybe you’d like some scones.”

Ellie looked at the bag with suspicion. “How’d you know?”

“Winnie,” I confessed. “I ran into her in the lobby earlier.”

Ellie sat down at the table and opened the bag. “Thanks.”

I watched as she took out a scone and nibbled it, swallowing cautiously, like she wasn’t sure her stomach was going to accept the offering. “So how are you feeling?” I asked, taking a chair across from her.

She shrugged. “Mornings are the worst.”

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thanks.”

“Uh, I was thinking about telling my parents today. If that’s okay with you.”

She chewed and swallowed. “Do you want me to be there?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” I said, surprised by the offer. “Sure, if you want to.”

“Are you nervous to tell them?”

“No. I mean, maybe. A little.” I closed my eyes. “Yes.”

She laughed softly—another surprise. “I’ll go with you.”

“Thanks.” I opened my eyes, my body warming with gratitude and affection. “I think it will be good coming from both of us.”

“What time do you want to go?”

“I was thinking this afternoon. I’m meeting Felicity here shortly to go over deliveries and inventory, so maybe around one?”

“Okay.” She looked down at the scone in her hands. “I haven’t told my mom and dad yet. Will your parents keep it to themselves until I work up my nerve?”

“I’m sure they will.” I stared at the antique tabletop, running my thumb over a nick in the wood. “Ellie, I was awake all night.”

“Me too.”

I looked up at her. “Is it because you didn’t mean what you said about me going to California? Because I can try to get out of the contract.”

She shook her head. “No. I meant what I said. I think the ten weeks apart will be a good chance for us both to process this. And figure out what life will look like moving forward.”

“But—”

“Gianni. Can you look me in the eye right now , and honestly tell me you don’t want to do the show?”

“No,” I conceded.

“That’s what I thought.”

“You should come with me.” The words came out of nowhere.

Ellie looked alarmed. “What? No.”

“Why not? We could get a?—”

“Why on earth would I come with you?”

“Because you’re pregnant. And I . . . feel bad leaving.”

It took her a minute to answer, but when she did, her voice was firm. “I’m not going with you, Gianni. My job is here. My family is here. My life is here.” Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s better that way. You’ll see.”

“Okay,” I said quickly, hating that I’d made her cry. “If that’s what you want, I’ll go alone. But I’ll come back when the show is done.”

“Fine,” she said, closing up the bag. “By then it will be fine.”

Her choice of words confused me. “What will be fine?”

“Never mind.” She stood up. “I’ll text you when I’m ready to go.”

I watched her hurry out of the kitchen, feeling like I’d failed her.

The water continued to swirl over my head.