Page 16 of And Everything In Between

“Yeah, and I’m good at it. About to run things while my boss is on maternity leave.”

“They lucky to have you.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the realization that she hadn’t told him what she did for a living. “You’ve been asking about me?”

Giovanni didn’t deny it. “I told you; you been calling out to me. I didn’t want to come at you wrong. I can tell in the way you carry yourself you know your worth and you on your shit. You gotta come to that correct or not at all.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as they ate. Paige watched him, the careful way he separated the bones from his fish, how he savored each bite instead of rushing. He licked his curved thumb, and her thighs quivered under the table. A man who knew how to appreciate things would always be her weakness.

“So, what’s the deal with your shop?” she asked finally, needing to get back to the conversation at hand. “Emon mentioned something about custom work. Blakes Bronco was fucking fire.”

Giovanni’s face lit up, and for the first time that night, his cool demeanor cracked to reveal genuine excitement.

“Aww look at your cheeks. You love it.”

“I do. Not gonna lie.” He grinned. “It started with me and a small garage ten years back. First it was fixing cars until I realized there was so much more to do. I could infuse my love of art and vehicles. Now we have the best custom shop in three states. We do more than trick out cars, we build art.” Hepulled out his phone, swiped through a few pictures of gleaming vehicles.

Paige leaned in, genuinely impressed. “That’s big shit. Self-made?”

“Every inch,” he confirmed. “My pops taught me the repair side, but everything else...” He gestured to himself. “Trial and error.”

“Your daddy still around?”

The question brought a subtle shift in his expression. “Nah. Lost him six years ago. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice softening. “That’s hard.”

“It’s life, baby. He got to see me start the place,” Giovanni replied. “Would’ve loved what it’s become, though.”

“My daddy’s sick,” she found herself saying before she could think better of it. She didn’t know why she shared that with him, but she felt like only he could understand. “Dialysis three times a week.”

Giovanni didn’t offer sympathy. Didn’t tiptoe around it either. He nodded, eyes holding hers like he saw something familiar.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice low unwavering. “I get it now.”

“Get what, Giovanni? You swear you can read me.”

“I can.”

He didn’t rush the words.

“Peace feels foreign. Stillness makes you itch. You’ve been holding everything together so long, you forgot what it feels like to be held, if you’ve ever known.”

His eyes dropped on her phone, then back up.

“You keep checking your phone not because you expect anything. Just habit. You said it was on Do Not Disturb… that was a lie. Let that be the last one.”

Her brow lifted, lips parting slightly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I don’t need lies.”

He let it breathe, then continued, voice lower now. Not backing off—just reaching in deeper.

“I know what that kind of tired looks like. My mom cared for my pops when he was sick. It wasn’t sponge baths and soft music—it was chemo, decisions, watching the person you love slowly disappear. She stopped checking in on herself just trying to keep him breathing.”

He leaned in, elbows on the table.

“And you got that same look. Like rest feels like a setup. Like if you sit still too long, something bad might happen. But it’s not just about the night out. You needed stillness. You needed somebody who’d show up andnotask anything from you. Just be there.”

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