Page 42 of And Everything In Between (Love By Any Means #3)

The premiere was in full swing when they arrived. Red carpet, cameras flashing, network executives mingling with industry players. Giovanni had missed his official entrance, but it didn’t matter. The real show was about to begin.

“Ready?” he asked, offering his arm as they stood at the entrance.

“Ready,” she replied. They stepped into the light together. The cameras immediately swung toward them. Giovanni's arm was fixed around her waist, her hand resting on his chest where his heart beat strong and sure beneath her palm.

“Mr. Dowlen! You’re late to your own premiere!” a reporter called out.

Giovanni’s smile was unapologetic. “Had something more important to handle.”

“And what was that?” another voice asked.

He looked down at Paige, seeking permission. She gave a subtle nod and lifted her hand.

“Getting married to the love of my life.” The crowd erupted in surprise.

Inside, their friends were waiting, champagne already flowing.

Spirit rushed over, hugging them both. They turned the corner toward the press wall, and there was Sienna.

Posted up next to Darren, smile strained, eyes trained on Giovanni like she was waiting on a reaction.

Giovanni didn’t flinch. His hand rested firmly on Paige’s.

His wedding band was shining and gleaming.

“I see the bitch showed up,” Spirit muttered beside them. “She better not try to ruin your night. I can turn into Suge Knight real fast.”

Sienna stepped forward, fake smile in full effect, her tone syrupy sweet and full of venom.

“Congratulations, Mr. Dowlen. The show’s a hit. And the marriage?” Her eyes flicked to Paige, “Bold move. Quick, too.”

Paige tilted her head, that classic slow blink loading like a warning shot.

“Not shade, when you couldn’t do it after what two years? Yikes,” Paige asked, catching the slick jab. She was gonna keep it cute, but Sienna should’ve known better than to even blink at Giovanni, let alone her.

Sienna’s smile faltered. Just for a second. Paige pressed on.

“But listen, I get it. It’s hard watching someone build what you fumbled. Especially when the only thing you managed to customize was how to steal. I ought to run your pockets right now for my man money.”

Spirit choked on her champagne. Giovanni tried not to laugh. Paige stayed focused on Sienna because for some reason a bitch that thought she was untouchable was Paige’s favorite type of bitch to touch.

“Anyway. Good luck with whatever you’re plotting next. Just don’t steal anything on your way out. Because he can’t beat your ass, but I can.”

She kissed Giovanni’s cheek, then leaned close to whispering to him, but loud enough for Sienna to hear.

“Let her watch, baby. It’s the closest she’ll ever get to this kind of loyalty.”

Paige didn’t say another word. She saw her. Saw the tension in Sienna’s jaw, the hunger behind her stare, the death grip she had on Darren like she was still trying to save face.

Giovanni leaned down, a message just for Paige.

“That’s old news,” he murmured, placing a kiss on her lips that was a little too sloppy for public but perfect for the moment.

Giovanni appreciated her checking Sienna, even though she didn't have to. Still, having someone in your corner? That kind of ride-or-die? Felt good. Paige made him feel good.

“Get a damn room,” Spirit said, giggling and swatting at them.

Paige and Giovanni glided away, unbothered, unbent, and completely victorious.

“Congratulations, you two,” the event coordinator called. “They’re about to play the first episode. You made it just in time.”

As they were ushered to their seats, Giovanni kept Paige close, his hand always somewhere on her back, her arm, her hand. Like he needed the constant reassurance that she was real, that this night was too. And that they did the craziest thing either of them had ever done.

The lights dimmed. The room hushed. And the screen illuminated with the opening sequence of “The Build by Giovanni.”

The audience gasped as the first build was revealed, a restored ‘67 Impala with custom paint that shifted from baby blue to sparkling silver depending on the light. Applause erupted when the camera panned across the intricate detailing Giovanni had done himself, each line telling a story about the car’s history and its owner’s dreams.

Paige’s chest swelled with pride. This was Giovanni’s art, his vision brought to life. He didn’t just build cars; he built beauty from broken things. Turned metal and muscle into something that made people feel .

But as the show played on, as his voice narrated the journey and his work took center stage, Giovanni wasn’t watching the screen.

He was watching her. The way Paige leaned in, eyes locked, a quiet smile tugging at her lips.

Pride radiated from her, visible in every subtle shift, every breath held, every soft exhale.

She saw him. And that meant everything. This was success. Not the show, not the cameras, not the industry validation. His work reflected in the eyes of the woman he loved.

“What?” she whispered with a smile feeling his eyes on her.

“I love you.”

“I love you more. Now pay attention,” she said, with a smile and kiss to the corner of his mouth.

As the crowd around them responded to the show, laughing at the right moments, gasping at the reveals, and applauding at the end of particularly impressive builds, Giovanni and Paige remained in their own world, connected by touches, heated glances, and deep breaths.

He was tryna get between her thighs again and for the rest of the night. But there was still more to do.

When the episode ended and the lights came up, they were immediately surrounded again, congratulations on the show mixed with surprise but well-wishes for their marriage.

Her phone buzzed in her clutch. A text from her father.

Daddy: Congratulations, he called me this afternoon and asked for my blessing.

Before she could feel guilty about him missing out on an important milestone in her life, another text came through.

Daddy: I’m happy for you, baby girl. That’s all I ever wanted. Me and your momma. She’s here too.

Paige’s eyes watered as she showed Giovanni the message. He kissed her behind the ear and her phone rang showing it was her mom calling.

“Congratulations, baby. I’m so happy for you. Lord grandbabies. Paige, what should I call myself? It must be fly and cute.”

“Ma, you’re getting ahead of yourself,” she laughed. “First, we need to be husband and wife before we become mommy and daddy.”

“Yes, you’re right, I’ll brainstorm alone. Any who, you looked beautiful. My heart couldn’t take it. I cried so bad at the pictures from Blake.”

“I love you, Momma. Call me tomorrow.”

“I love you, too, Paige.” Paige disconnected, happy that her parents weren’t feeling jaded, but Paige had always felt like she raised herself. Her mom was too busy being the fun mom and getting her life back after grief. That wasn’t them.

“Son, I am so proud of you,” Betsy said, pulling Giovanni into a hug before cupping Paige’s face. “For the show, for the man you are, and for the husband and father you’re about to be. You’ve made us so proud. Paige, welcome to our family.”

“Thank you,” Paige said, her voice full of emotion. “But more than that, thank you for raising this man beside me. To love women. To protect what he values. I’m so blessed.”

Giovanni leaned in with a smirk and whispered, “There you go again.”

Paige gave him a playful glare, before she swatted at his chest, and hugged his momma tight.

Spirit appeared next, practically vibrating with excitement. “I can’t believe I pulled that off. I can’t wait to tell my niece or nephew how I came through with the come-through for their parents. Welcome to the family, sis.”

“Thank you. And you did the damn thing,” Paige said, shaking her head. “It’s a story worth telling.”

Later, when the night was quiet again and the cameras were gone, Giovanni would tell her the truth. That none of this, not the deal, not the network, not even the buzz, meant shit without her.

The song switched, and she dipped her head back, laughing as the opening notes of “ART” by Tyla filled the room.

The same song she’d been humming that morning in the hotel, the lyrics that had been living on her lips for days. “I’ll be your piece,” she sang softly against his ear, swaying into him, her movements fluid, in sync with the rhythm pulsing between them.

No wonder the song had been on the tip of her tongue all this time. The universe had been preparing her for this final reveal. She was a masterpiece, his masterpiece. And he was hers. They moved together on the dance floor, husband and wife, artist and muse, builder and foundation. Balance.

Giovanni’s lips found her temple. “Thank you for trusting me with your heart.”

“Thank you for being someone I could trust it with,” she whispered, and she meant it with every fiber of her being.