Chapter 32
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Drake
“Hey, gorgeous,” I say, wrapping my arm around Gianna and hauling her into me. “I missed you.”
She smiles up at me. “I missed you, too.”
I close the door before taking her face in my hands and pressing a kiss to her lips. Her body relaxes the moment we touch, and I can almost see the stress of her day melt away. I love that I can do that to her.
“Where’s the coat tree?” I ask after pulling back. “I need to see this thing.”
“It’s in the living room. Audrey helped me clean it off outside because it had about thirty years of grime on it. It’s not looking too bad now.”
She leads me into the house, our hands locked together.
“Auddie, this is Drake,” Gianna says, stepping to the side. “Drake, this is one of my best friends Audrey.”
A pretty woman with light blond hair and the shyest smile nods. “Hey, Drake.”
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you.” I smile back, hoping it makes her more comfortable. “I take it that’s your truck out there?”
“My dad’s. We took it to get Vern.”
I glance at Gianna. “Vern?”
“That’s what we named the coat tree,” she says, as if naming inanimate objects is typical. God, I love this quirky woman. “Doesn’t it look like a Vern?”
“Sure,” I say.
I take a look at the dark-colored pole with hooks protruding from the top. It’s seen better days, probably in the last century, but it does have a uniqueness about it. Character. Whatever Gianna decides to do with it will be incredible.
Audrey laughs at my reaction. “Vern is the name of Pearl’s dad. We thought it only made sense to name it after him.”
Gianna nods along as if this conversation is sensical.
“Was there another choice?” I ask, playing along. “It had to be Vern.”
Audrey’s eyes sparkle. There’s an innocence in them, an unsullied, potentially naive air about her that raises my curiosity. She seems opposite of Gianna in every way. They’re an interesting pair.
“I’m going to go,” Audrey says, picking up her keys from the coffee table. “Call me later.”
“For sure,” Gianna says.
Audrey tucks her chin, cheeks flushed and leaves quietly. Once the door snaps closed, I exhale—glad to have my girl all to myself.
“You were missed at dinner,” I say, venturing over to her easel.
She’s made progress on the painting she’s been working on since I’ve known her.
Every time I see it, there’s an adjustment.
I don’t know what she’s creating, and I’m not sure she knows either.
But the process of watching her make something out of nothing is better than any final product.
“Evie was pissed at me for not bringing you along.”
“Did you tell her you invited me?”
“I did. She did not care. In Evie’s world, Evie makes the rules, and all logic and common sense are useless.”
She smiles. “How’s Big Ed?”
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, hoping it keeps my blood pressure steady.
After dinner, we sat outside while Dad napped and had a long talk about the future. It was hard, and I don’t think any of us wanted to do it, but it was necessary. We had to get on the same page.
Mom admitted she needed help—or would soon.
Elodie explained that we were worried about her and that she needed to prioritize seeing her friends and getting manicures.
Whatever made her happy. Evie offered to move back in, which was met with a resounding no and a lot of laughs.
I offered to move my schedule around to help with the doctor’s appointments and house maintenance. Mom reluctantly agreed.
“He had a bad day,” I say, sitting on the couch. Gianna curls up next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. “He asked about Bingo a bunch for some reason. Bingo was Elodie’s dog when we were growing up. He hasn’t been alive for probably twenty years.”
She stretches an arm across my middle, touching her lips against my bicep.
“We did get Mom to agree to having more help, though,” I say.
“Elodie is taking the reins because she’s your prototypical oldest daughter.
Everything and everyone is her responsibility, although she doesn’t say it like that.
” I slide my arm around Gianna’s back and hold her close.
“I think this is her way of feeling like she has some control over the situation. She’ll make her lists and monitor everyone’s emotions, and that’ll help her sleep at night. ”
Gianna grins. “Do you think if she came over and helped me get organized that she would sleep even better?”
I chuckle. “What would you do if everything were organized around here?”
“Get itchy, probably.” She laughs, too. “I think I’m the opposite of Elodie. Chaos feels like control to me. I’ve never realized that until now.” She pauses, lost in her thoughts. “Mayhem makes it harder to be surveilled. You can’t fail if you don’t play, so to speak.”
That’s interesting, but knowing what I know about her family, it makes sense.
“I’d love to get you and Elodie in a room together,” I say, stoking my fingers down her arm. “Aside from the organizational part, I think the two of you would really get along.”
“Why?”
“Well, you’re both brilliant and creative, although in different ways. You’re a brilliant artist, and Elodie is more innovative when it comes to working through a problem. She’s never taken no for an answer like someone else I know.”
Gianna kisses my arm again, and I think I feel her smile against my shoulder.
“What about Evie?” she asks. “Would we get along?”
I hum while I think about that. “Yeah, you would. I mean, of course, you would. But she’s kind of all over the place. She could call me from a prison in Thailand tomorrow, and I wouldn’t be all that surprised.”
Gianna giggles. “Really?”
“Really. She gets an idea, and she does it. She doesn’t think it through, contemplate the ramifications, or perform a risk assessment. She jumps in with both feet … probably in heels, to really grab headlines.”
“She sounds fun.”
“Depends on who you are to her,” I say. “If you’re her friend and can ignore her calls, she’s probably a barrel of fun. If you’re her brother? Not so much.”
“I bet Lucia says that about me.”
We sit quietly together, neither of us forcing a conversation. There’s no need with Gianna to fill every moment with something for the sake of it. It’s one of my favorite things about being with her. I can just be with her. And that’s enough.
“Is Lucia married?” I ask. “Or does she have kids?”
“Nope, although she’d be happy to get married if she met the right guy, and I can see her being a mother someday. I could see her adopt a baby if she doesn’t meet the right guy. She’s just maternal, I guess.”
“Elodie goes back and forth about adoption. She’s thirty-six and thinks she’s too old to have kids—especially with no husband in sight.”
“I think it’s a nice idea to adopt,” Gianna says.
Oh. “Is that something you’d like to do someday?”
We haven’t talked about having a family since I brought it up on our first date. She balked, and I chalked it up to something she didn’t want to discuss right off the rip—which, understandable. I’ve never brought it up again.
But things have changed. The way I feel about her has changed.
We’re almost five weeks into this relationship, and I can see myself settling down with her.
She fits into my life like a glove, and I think I fit into hers just as easily.
If I had my way, I’d consider myself permanently taken.
But if we’re talking about or thinking about a long-term relationship, we’ll have to discuss it at some point.
Gianna shifts, pulling away from me slightly. “I haven’t given it a lot of thought personally. I just meant theoretically.”
“Do you want kids at all?”
She breathes heavily, avoiding eye contact, which is unusual.
“What’s going on?” I ask, confused.
The silence surrounding us is pregnant with tension. Clearly, I led us here but I don’t know how or why. Gianna bites her lip as her breathing grows strained. If I’ve ever seen her in discomfort or saw her anxious, it’s now.
It takes her a full minute of fighting herself over whatever is bothering her before she makes a decision. I hold my breath, curious but also on edge. I don’t like the look on her face. Not at all.
She gasps a shaky breath and shrugs. “We probably need to have this conversation now and get it over with.”
“Um, what conversation?”
She shifts in her seat, gripping the edge of the sofa like she might take off running at any minute. “When we started this whole fake real dating, it was supposed to be fun for six weeks—”
“Gianna.”
“—and it has been fun. It’s been amazing. You’re amazing. But you said it best on our first date.” She drags her eyes to mine as if she’s about to take a bullet. “Under normal circumstances, we’d never be together.”
I flinch. What the fuck is going on? “What are you talking about?”
“Drake—”
“I said that weeks ago when we were first getting to know each other,” I say, panic rising in my throat. “Hell, I probably said it so that you didn’t bolt.” I narrow my gaze, so utterly confused. “Where are you going with this?”
She stands up and moves across the room. Her eyes are wild, her chest rising and falling like she’s struggling for air. She doesn’t want to say this—she doesn’t go wherever she’s headed. But I don’t know where that is and I can’t stop her.
“We have fun together,” she says, her lips quivering. “But we aren’t supposed to be together.”
I snort. “I absolutely disagree.”
Her head whips to mine, and for the briefest moment, I see a flash of hope in her eyes.
“Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you or offend you somehow?” I ask.
“No.” She licks her lips. “But you did tell me that you loved me in your sleep last night.”
Oh. The air stops moving around us. That’s what’s going on.
My heart pounds as the blanket is jerked off the baby. It all makes sense.
I might’ve been sleeping, but for Gianna, love is a choice. And I added to the pressure, essentially making her feel like I took her choice away.
Her eyes fill with unshed tears. But like the fighter she is, she holds them back. I want to grab her, hold her, and kiss this ridiculous fear out of her. But if I do that, she’ll push back. She’ll feel more cornered than she already does.
Still, I do love her, and it’s not wrong that she knows it. She’s just going to need time to accept it.
“I didn’t mean to tell you that way,” I say gently. “I didn’t plan on telling you anytime soon because I knew you’d do this. So, I’m sorry I said it how I said it, but I’m not sorry that you know the truth—something you probably knew anyway.”
Gianna ignores this. “You and I are such different people. Sure, we can fuck and have a good time. But this isn’t something that goes on forever.
” She draws in a shaky breath. “You’re from this big, wonderful family, and you’ll naturally want one of your own.
And I just … I don’t fit in that world.”
“According to who? Don’t I get a say in who fits into my world?”
“Sure, you do. But you’ve already told me who that is, and that profile isn’t me.”
She laughs sadly, and the sound is clogged with emotion. It smashes my heart into a million pieces. Each shard slices as it hits, and I feel the burn in my chest.
“You aren’t seeing this for what it is. It’s been almost five weeks, Drake. You haven’t had time to think about what this would mean in the long term. I will disappoint you. I promise.”
My sweet girl. Fuck your parents for doing this to you.
“This was always the ending, and you know it,” she says softly. “You told me that. And it’s just time we accept it, I think. This is as good a time as any to get this in the air. We’re just getting deeper, which will make the inevitable just that much harder.”
“Maybe it’s time for you to accept that I’m not going anywhere. Ever. I’ve always known that there was a perfect woman out there for me, and that one day I’d turn a corner and there she would be.” I grin. “I just didn’t expect the ketchup on your shirt part.”
Tears roll down her cheeks. Still, I don’t go to her.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve known this was going to happen since the moment I asked you to try me,” I say. “You’d have your finger on the eject button as soon as things got serious.”
“That’s not what’s happening. It’s not like that.”
“No, it is like that. It’s just like that.”
Seeing her cry just feet away from me and not being able to go to her is the worst form of torture.
She’s stubborn and headstrong, and she must choose to come to me.
She must pick me of her own free will. She’s scared to do that now.
In her version of what love is, she thinks I’ll eventually uncheck a box and go on about my day.
She’s about to learn that’s not how it works. Because I love her. Every quirky, hardheaded, beautiful piece of her.
“We should just end it now,” she says through her tears. “There’s no need to prolong this.”
“I agree. There’s no point in any of this.”
She nods as if I’m agreeing with her and walking away. It takes everything I have not to chuckle.
“So I’ll go home and give you space because I think that’s what you want,” I say slowly. “When you decide it’s okay to love me back, I’ll be waiting.”
“Drake …”
“I love you, Gianna.”
She hiccups a sob, and I clench my fist at my side to keep from pulling her into me. Walking away from her is going to be the hardest thing that I’ve ever done. But if I want to keep my girl, then I must. As much as it tears me up inside, it’s the only thing to do.
And the sooner I go, the sooner she can realize this is nonsense.
I start toward the door, but stop by the cookie tin of buttons. “By the way,” I say, holding her gaze for dear life. “You can’t disappoint someone when you never had anything to prove.”
I commit every detail of her to memory. The shine of her hair, the shape of her lips. The sweet curve of her hip. Then I give her a soft, reassuring smile and leave.
Luckily, my tears wait until I get in the SUV before they fall.