Page 53 of And Everything In Between

“It’s both,” she shot back, flicking ash over the railing. “It’s the color of the spice. Deep brown. Rich. Warm. Like me.”

He turned to look at her then, “Yeah... yeah, that tracks. I’m calling you, Cinny from here on out.”

“That’s kinda cute.” She laughed. “But seriously you don’t care about us starting in the middle?” she asked.

“Not at all.”

He angled his body toward her, fingers grazing hers. “I don’t care how it started, as long as it keeps going.”

Paige turned her head, resting her cheek on the top of the chair. “You ever think about what you’d be doing if it weren’t cars?”

He didn’t answer right away. Giovanni looked out over the parking lot, then down at his hands. A thoughtful silence settled between them as he considered her question.

“I wanted to be an artist,” he said eventually, voice quiet. “Like, pencil and ink. Sketching, painting. I used to draw all the time. But my pops… he was old school and a hard ass. Made it crystal clear that Black boys didn’t have the luxury of chasing dreams that didn’t pay bills.”

Paige shifted in her seat. “Damn. I’m sorry to hear that. Parents can be so shortsighted.”

“Yeah,” he affirmed with a nod. “Told me straight up, ‘Art don’t feed families. Ain’t no pension in paint.’ I got mad at first, rebelled. Then I understood. He was trying to protect me in his own way. He didn’t want me living off hope or becoming a struggling artist or bum.”

She stared at him, chest tight. “But you still found a way. That’s amazing and it takes fortitude.”

“And always will. Remember that.” Giovanni looked over at her, eyes tired but proud. “But yeah. That’s what the cars became. My art, just... metal and movement instead of brush and canvas. Every build I touch is a version of what I never got to do. It’s why I’m picky about the projects. It’s why I take my time. I obsess over every detail. Cars have history, story, and nostalgia attached to them, and it’s my job to tell that.”

Her voice dropped low. “And you tell it beautifully.”

His expression stilled. Her words had reached a part of him he kept locked behind steel doors. He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak right away. He stared at her, the recognition clear in his eyes; he’d needed someone to say exactly that.

She settled back into the moment. “I always thought I’d be working with numbers. I’ve always been good with them. My dad would let me count his money, and he’d be so impressed how fast and accurate I was he’d pay me for it.”

“Damn, my baby a mathematician?”

“Something like that,” she said with a smile. “Nothing’s left hanging in math. It’s always solvable. Predictable but unpredictable.”

Giovanni turned to her slowly. “It’s the journey. That explains a lot about you. The way you analyze everything, how you see patterns where most people see chaos.” His eyes held genuine admiration. “That’s a gift, you know. Being able to make sense of numbers when the rest of us are guessing.”

The appreciation in his voice warmed her. It wasn’t that he understood her passion, but that he saw how it shaped who she was. It was different than men who only valued what she could do for them.

“You always say the right things. Always. You got a get-the-panties manual over there?”

“Paige, you don’t even wear the shit and I ain’t gotta feed you lines. My own momma don’t have the code to my crib.”

“So, I’m special?”

“Very, so special a thought to put you over my finances came to mind. Ion even play like that.”

That caught her and him off guard. He didn’t play with or about his wealth or future. And he didn’t let anybody have access, but he felt he could trust her. He felt that anything she touched, she could and would make better.

“You know,” she said under her breath, “this shit ain’t normal. It feels like something I should be scared of, its that big, that life changing.”

“I know,” he said, voice low. “But you ain’t gotta be. I’m not here to make you prove anything. I want to be wherever you are, simple.”

She studied the curve of his jaw, the way his eyes never wavered from hers. Her voice softened. “Then let’s see where it goes.”

Giovanni reached for her hand, their fingers locked together without hesitation, like they’d done it a hundred times before. Paige didn’t flinch or second guess. She let his warmth settle into her, let the steadiness of his breath quiet the noise in her head. Time with Giovanni was a pause from the chaos —a full-body exhale.

When he finally stood to leave, it wasn’t with urgency or expectation He reached for her hand and guided her to her feet, then kissed her. It wasn’t hungry like their first night; it was deeper, patient. A kiss that said he’d be there tomorrow, and the day after that.

“Call you tomorrow?” he asked, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

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