Page 25 of And Everything In Between (Love By Any Means #3)

“And one little other thing too. That’s it for now.” Her eyes sparkled.

Giovanni raised his glass. “Then here’s to for now.”

Paige clinked hers against his. “And making it beautiful as we go.”

They finished the night with more wine, more conversation, and a shared piece of cheesecake that had them fighting playfully over the last bite.

Of course, he let her have it. Giovanni was a lost cause.

He’d never been one to get distracted by the way someone ate food, but watching Paige lick her spoon, slurp up her noodles, and moan softly when the lemon sauce hit her tongue had him shifting in his seat.

Every little sound she made drove him crazy, had him thinking about their night at his place and how soon he could hear those sounds again.

They didn’t say much on the ride back. Only thing passing between them was shared small looks, soft smiles, the easy kind of quiet that only came when two people knew they’d cleared a hurdle and found themselves on the same side.

When they finally pulled up to her place, Paige unlocked her door, heels dangling from his hand as they made their way inside.

Giovanni followed her into her home, her scent enveloping him immediately - vanilla, coconut oil, it was uniquely her.

She didn’t offer a grand tour. He didn’t ask.

Instead, she tossed her purse on the entry table and led him straight to the balcony.

“Give me a sec,” she said, slipping out the sliding glass door. “I need some air.”

Giovanni followed behind her, hands in his pockets, leaning against the rail.

“I saw the video,” Paige said finally, voice softer now. “The car show clip. That moment when you stopped traffic… when you stepped out of the car… that’s why I reached out.”

Giovanni turned to her, interest piqued. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “I knew you had eyes on me, but when I saw it from that angle… I felt like you were lookin’ for me and maybe you didn’t even notice.”

He laughed. “I was. Earlier my folks were on my ass and I don’t know when I left I felt like something big was going to happen. ”

Paige smirked.

“You were one of the best parts of that whole night.”

They locked eyes again. Giovanni pulled her out of the chair by her hand, closing the space between them as they swayed.

No music was playing, none needed. He knew she liked to slow dance, and he’d be cheesier than all of Wisconsin for her.

He was going to win her heart, marry her, give her babies, happiness, help, safety, and peace.

After their impromptu dance ended, they settled back into the balcony chairs.

Paige lit a blunt, the smoke curling into the night air between them.

Giovanni sat low in the chair beside her, arm draped casually over the back of her seat.

He wasn’t smoking, but he didn’t flinch when she did.

He sat there with that same calm stillness he always brought, being around her was its own kind of peace.

“This is crazy, you know? We did everything backwards. Now we talking about ‘what’s next.’ That’s some backwards shit.”

He laughed low. “Way backwards. I don’t even know your favorite color. You could be a serial killer or have a mean left hook, and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

She side-eyed him, lips curved. “It’s cinnamon, by the way. My favorite color.”

“Girl what? That ain’t even a color. That’s a spice.”

“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.

“You better,” she replied with a smile that reached her eyes.

As she watched him walk to his car, Paige leaned in the doorway, watching him go. Giovanni glanced back once, caught her eyes, and the smile they shared felt like crossing a threshold. They’d gone from attraction to something with roots, something that might last.

Paige grinned; she wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop.

She was waiting for tomorrow, another day they’d share in their own way.

This was not what she expected when she showed up at the car show, and she knew damn well this wasn’t what her mom had in mind when she offered those tickets.

But here she was, enjoying Giovanni’s hands, his attention, him spoiling her, him becoming part of her world, as she became a part of his.

The food truck gang loved him and thought what he was doing was sweet, but it was more than that. Anything he did he made an impact. His mind was constantly on others. On his community. She loved that.

There had been moments in Paige’s life when she felt like she didn’t have a tribe or community. She had her friends and family, yes, but that rallying of people who genuinely cared was different. He was reminding her that the devil was a liar - she had people, and people had her. What a man.