Page 11 of Undeniable

“Hey girl! How was your day?” She asks as she goes to dish up two plates, already knowing that I will never say no to her cooking.

“Really good. How about you?”

“Good. Went and talked to the bank and got a loan so that I can actually get a place to operate out of instead of my kitchen! I already have 4 more events booked next month from this weekend’s wedding referrals alone. Things are really taking off.”

I drop my purse on the counter and pull her into a hug. “Oh my gosh, Beck. I am so proud of you. This is your dream.”

“Thank you,” she beams back as we settle in at the table with our food.

We chat about Becca’s plans and what her goals are in the coming months. She has such an incredible talent, and I am so happy that she is able to share it with other people. When silence settles over us, she sets her wine glass on the table and gives me a look.

“So, what do you think about Giovanni?”

“Don’t you mean Alessandro?” I question.

She shakes her head. “No. I mean, the kid is cute and stuff, but have youseenthe dad?” Becca begins dramatically fanning herself before continuing. “He has got to be one of the sexiest men alive. Seriously, Clooney doesn’t have anything on that man. No lie, I took the job originally just so I could get a glimpse of him here or there.”

A wave of something hot rushes through my body as my chest tightens. For some reason, hearing my best friend talk about her interest in Giovanni has me ready to scratch her eyes out. I check myself the next moment and stop short of physically shaking it off.

What is the matter with me? I am not one of those catty women who gets upset when someone appreciates a man. Especially not a man that isn’t even mine. I have literally no claim over him whatsoever, yet I feel a deep pulsing anger rushing through me at the thought of anything ever happening between the two of them.

I reach for my drink and take a casual sip, drawing out my response to give myself more time to calm down.

“Has anything ever happened there?” I ask in a tone that I am hoping comes across as casual.

She sighs dramatically and shakes her head.

“But alas, our love was not meant to be. He didn’t see me as anything more than the person who watched his kid. Hell, I don’t think he even really saw me as that most days. Trust me, I tried everything to get him to look. He seemed to have zero interest in me. If he didn’t have a kid, I would wonder if he was gay.”

The last part has us both sputtering at the ridiculousness of the comment. Mr. Giovani Cordova is as straight as they come. The man practically drips testosterone. He has that quiet growly alpha thing going for him, and clearly, I am not the only one who noticed.

“What about the mom?” I ask.

Becca shrugs. “Don’t know. Neither of them talks about her. There are no pictures of her in the house and Giovanni doesn’t wear a wedding ring. Not sure if he was ever even married or maybe they just split up and she isn’t involved.”

I nod as I take another sip, my heart splintering at the thought. How could anyone, a mother of all people, just not want their child? Memories of my own mother come to the forefront of my mind. I am quickly reminded that not everyone has what it takes to be a loving parent, or a good human being for that matter.

“Giovanni’s mom used to watch Alessandro before me. She passed away a few months ago and I got the phone call from him to watch Alessandro. I guess Giovanni knows Carlos, my old boss at that bar on 24th, and he recommended me.”

I frown as I finish my glass before taking our dishes to the sink. Maybe that is what has been troubling at least Alessandro. From the sounds of it she seemed to be the only mother figure in his life. To comprehend death at such a young age is not an easy challenge, especially when it is so close to home.

Once Becca’s disaster of a mess is cleaned up, I go change into my pajamas and curl up onto my pull-out bed as Becca trails off to her room. My eyes just begin to flutter shut when my phone vibrates. I reach over for it and am shocked when I see who it is.

Giovanni: Are you home?

Giovanni: You were supposed to text me.

He was serious about that? I thought he was just saying that to be nice. I didn’t realize that he genuinely cared. I tap out my reply quickly as I cradle my phone, eager to see another response.

Me: Sorry. Yes, I got home about an hour ago. I didn’t know you were serious.

His reply comes almost instantly.

Giovanni: Don’t forget again.

Giovanni: Sweet dreams, Tasha.

My heart skips a beat as I re-read his words over and over again. It isn’t like they are anything swoon worthy per say, but I still devour each letter. Maybe it is because I am replaying the way he says my name. Maybe it is because he wished me sweet dreams. Or maybe it is because he implied that he wants me to text him again tomorrow. Whether it is any of the scenarios, I go to sleep with a smile on my face and a pair of piercing silver eyes on my mind.

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