Page 27 of And Everything In Between

She bolted upright, the sheet falling away as her hands flew to her hair, her face, herself, making sure she was still intact.

“Shit!” she hissed, eyes darting around the room, searching for her clothes, her phone, any evidence of the woman she was supposed to be instead of the woman she’d been last night. “What time is it? My car, Oh my God, it’s still at the fairgrounds. I didn’t even tell anyone where I… fuck, my family is gonna think I’m dead in a ditch somewhere!”

Giovanni straightened, watching her spiral with a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

“Breathe, P,” he replied. “It’s only 9:30. Your car’s fine. I can take you to get it whenever you’re ready. I ain’t holding you hostage unless you into that.”

“My phone,” she said, ignoring that last part, already halfway off the bed, his T-shirt riding up dangerously high on her thighs. “Where’s my fucking phone? I’ve got work tomorrow, and I need to check on my daddy, and…”

“Paige.” His voice was firmer now, cutting through her chaos. He caught her wrist, his grip gentle but secure. “Stop. Your clothes are folded in the bathroom. Your phone’s on the charger in the kitchen. Nobody’s called or texted. The world didn’t end because you took one night for yourself. Chill for me.”

She froze, staring at him. Reality hit her all at once. She was in Giovanni’s bedroom, wearing his clothes, the spotshe touched still humming, thighs tender from being gripped around his waist, and she had absolutely no regrets. The realization terrified her.

“This isn’t me anymore,” she said, voice quieter now, more vulnerable than she meant it to be. “I don’t do this. I don’t spend the night with men I barely know. I don’t... forget all my responsibilities.”

What she didn’t say was that forgetting, even for a second, scared her more than anything. Paige had built a life that worked. It was hers. A path she carved with no promises and no passengers. She knew how to function alone. Fully. And maybe that was the problem. Slowing down made room for thoughts she usually outran.

One night didn’t mean forever. And they hadn’t even scratched the surface yet. Her future was already spoken for, stacked with goals, promotions, and caring for her father; she wasn’t about to blow up her life chasing a maybe.

Giovanni nodded, clocking her energy. He understood boundaries, but with her he felt tethered, close without effort. He wasn't saying it out loud, not yet, but he already knew he wasn't staying away. He’d lie before he let her think he could.

“Maybe that’s exactly why you needed it,” he said. “When’s the last time you put yourself first, even for a few hours?”

“Don’t do that. Don’t judge me.” She flopped back down on the bed, her heart was beating so fast, she needed a minute.

“I’m not judging,” he added, meeting her defiance head-on. “Just saying... sometimes the most responsible thing you can do is be a little irresponsible.”

Paige laughed, shaky but real. “That’s some backward-ass logic, Vanni.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged, the slow grin returning. “But I’m right. And you’re still here, so…”

She was. And despite the voice in her head telling her she should be anywhere but here, she didn’t want to go. Not yet.

Giovanni’s hand slid up her arm, settling on the nape of her neck. “Now, you got two options. You can keep spinning out over shit that’s already handled, or you can come eat this breakfast I made before it gets cold.”

Paige studied his face. No pressure. No judgment. No angle.

“You cook too?”

“Not well.” He laughed. “But I make a mean omelet.”

That pulled a genuine smile from her. “Impressive.”

He offered his hand. She slid her fingers into his and let him pull her to her feet, still feeling the echo of what they’d done together.

The kitchen smelled like cheese, bacon, and black coffee. His place was warm. He was surprisingly warm, kind, and attentive. He’d been raised by women or around women, she could tell.

The apartment above the shop wasn’t what she’d expected. It was clean but lived-in, masculine but not bare, with touches of his personality everywhere, framed blueprints for custom cars, old vinyl records stacked neatly in a corner, a well-worn leather jacket draped over a chair.

“You live here?” she asked, hopping onto the counter.

“Nah. Only when I’m mid-project. Sometimes I don’t wanna leave the shop. But I got a spot in Haven Springs.”

“Damn, money bags.”

“I work hard.”

“I see that.” Her eyes swept the room again. “I like seeing a man passionate about something. It’s beautiful, and I can tell this all brings you joy. It’s cute.”

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