Page 57 of And Everything In Between

A muscle flickered angrily at his jaw. “You don’t speak for me, Sienna. Never have, never will.”

The table went quiet. Darren looked between them, confusion evident on his face.

Sienna recovered quickly, her laugh too bright, too practiced. “See what I mean? Raw, authentic, that’s what makes him compelling. We need to capture that energy on camera.”

Giovanni leaned back in his chair, a cold smile playing at his lips. “Darren, can I keep it a buck with you?”

“Always,” Darren nodded.

“Sienna and I have history. Bad history. She stole from me, disappeared, and now she’s trying to leverage our past to get herself something. I don’t know what her angle is this time and truthfully, I don’t care. If she’s part of this project, I’m out. I ain’t ever in life giving anybody passes to play with me twice.”

Sienna’s face froze, the calculated charm evaporating. “You can’t be serious. Darren, he’s exaggerating. I was young and dumb.”

“Fuck outta here with that. Thirty bands,” Giovanni cut in, his voice level. “That’s what she took. So, unless you finnarun me my money ain’t no passes. She can’t be a part of my vision for this show.”

Darren looked uncomfortable, glancing between them. “I, uh, didn’t realize there was history here.”

“There isn’t,” Giovanni said, standing. “Not anymore. Call me when you’re ready to talk about the show I actually want to make.”

He dropped his napkin on the table and walked out, not looking back to see either of their reaction. Outside, the evening air hit his face, cooling the anger that had been simmering under his skin.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Paige:You’re always on my mind… (me singing) I hope things go well tonight.

Giovanni:Always thinking about you too and let me hear it later.

Back at his Airbnb, Giovanni found a package on the doorstep. No return address, just his name scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a die-cast model of a cherry red Cutlass. A note card fell out:

Something to remind you of home - Cinny.

He turned the model over in his hands, a slow smile spreading across his face. Only Paige and Spirit knew where he was staying. And only Paige would understand what this meant to him, his first build, the car that started it all. She’d gotten lucky that there was a vintage toy car store near the area. Technology earned her some brownie points.

Back in his makeshift studio, the sketch pad waited. Giovanni sat down, the model car perched beside him and began to draw again. This time, the lines flowed easier, his hands moved with ease, sounds of his skin scraping the paper made music. Finally, the curves took shape, completing hismasterpiece. Something worthy of the woman who’d sent him this reminder. When he finished, he sat back and studied what he’d created. It wasn’t perfect. But it was special. Exactly like what was growing between them. He took a photo of the sketch and sent it to Paige with no caption. No explanation needed. She’d understand what he was trying to say.

That she was his muse.

That she was art.

That whatever they built together would be unlike anything either of them had created before.

The response came minutes later:

I’ve never been anyone’s muse before.

He traced his finger over the lines of his drawing one more time. One week. One more week, and he’d be back where he belonged. Back with the woman who’d somehow become his true north without even trying.

Chapter 15

Paige checked her watch for the third time in fifteen minutes, convinced the second hand was moving backward to spite her. Each customer who smiled across her desk received her professional attention, but inside, she was counting down the hours. Giovanni would be back tomorrow. The thought alone sent electricity through her fingertips.

She’d already prepped for his return, fresh wax, nails, and toes done to perfection. The anticipation was both delicious and maddening. Who was this woman who missed someone so much it physically ached? Certainly not the Paige Bishop who valued her independence above all else. Yet here she was, checking her phone between appointments, smiling at his morning text for the fourth time.

She liked her space, had always guarded it fiercely, but his absence had hollowed out corners of her day she hadn't known could feel empty.

“Paige, it’s doing it again. The printer is possessed, I swear.” Carol’s voice broke through her thoughts, the woman’s face pinched with the particular brand of irritation only office equipment could inspire.

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