“Which was?”
“He’s very good in bed,” I admitted. “Generous. Patient. Attentive.”
“Stop skipping ahead!” Winnie grabbed her wineglass. “How did it happen?”
I tried to recall exactly how we’d ended up naked between the sheets. “We had a big fight about something, and he ended up chasing me around the room.”
“What was the fight about?”
“About the seven minutes thing. We argued about who was to blame for the fact that we never actually kissed in that closet.” I explained what had actually gone down that night, and Winnie’s jaw nearly hit the marble counter.
“Shut up! So after all that, you asked him to kiss you and he didn’t? After lying to get you in there and then going through all that trouble to get you to say yes?”
I nodded. “It was infuriating. And humiliating. Anyway, he sort of roped me into giving him a second chance at that kiss, and then things went on from there.”
“So was it just the one time?” Winnie asked.
I popped an olive into my mouth. “Nope. It was so good we did it again like an hour later, and I initiated it. And there was no faking. Not once.”
She laughed and tapped her glass to mine. “I’m very proud of you.”
“We had a good time.” I sighed and took a sip of wine. “It wasn’t until afterward that things went south. That’s when he admitted that Fiona had offered him the Tastemaker cover, and in addition”—I hesitated here, because I wasn’t sure if I was betraying a confidence by telling Winnie about Hot Mess, but Gianni hadn’t said it was a secret, had he? And I trusted her. “He’s leaving Etoile.”
She gasped. “Seriously? Already?”
“April,” I said. “He has another reality show offer. But don’t say anything about it. It’s not really public yet.”
“I won’t say a word. What’s the show about?”
I gave her the gist of it, and she laughed.
“Sounds perfect for him. But kind of a bummer he’s leaving Etoile.”
“No, it isn’t. Good riddance, if you ask me.” I tried to sound like my old self, the one who couldn’t stand Gianni Lupo, the one who resented him for being so hot and successful, the one who didn’t know how he kissed or touched or tasted. The one who’d be glad to see him go, not the one who’d always wonder if we could have been good together.
Winnie spread brie on a cracker. “I thought everything was better with you guys.”
“It was. In fact we spent all of yesterday and last night having a really good time. And then this morning, he dropped another bomb on me.”
Winnie’s eyes went wide as she took a bite.
“That whole thing about his SUV being dead? It was a lie. He made it up.”
“Why?”
“So he could have me to himself for one more night at the motel.”
Winnie started to choke and had to get up and get herself a glass of water. After grabbing a glass from a cupboard, she filled it at the sink and guzzled it. Then she turned to face me. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” Gratified by her reaction, I went on. “That asshole kept me prisoner a whole other day and night, like I was his toy.”
“Wow,” said Winnie. “What a jerk.” Then her expression changed. “But it’s kind of sweet too.”
I gaped at her. “No, it isn’t, Winnie! He lied to me. To suit his own selfish purposes. He was only thinking about himself.”
She sighed. “Yeah. You’re right—it was shitty of him. But it’s kind of cute that he wanted to be alone with you that badly. And that he confessed. He must have felt bad.”
“I didn’t see it that way. I saw it as just one more way he messed with me. I was furious, especially since—” I stopped myself.
“Since what?”
I played with the stem of my wineglass. “I don’t even want to say it out loud.”
“Do it anyway.”
I pursed my lips. “Since I was . . . having some feelings.”
“Feelings? For Gianni?” Winnie was suitably shocked.
“Maybe just one feeling.” I took a breath as the memory of being skin to skin with him washed over me. “But it was a nice one.”
Winnie took it in slowly as she walked back around the island to take her seat again. “Are you sure it’s gone?”
“Yes. It was snuffed out like a candle as soon as he told me about the lie. Because that’s when I knew he hadn’t changed—he’s still that same kid who tortured me all through school, and dunked me fifty times just for the hell of it, and made me want to kiss him in a closet then refused to do it. He’s a game player and always will be. He’s gorgeous,” I went on grudgingly, “and we have some good chemistry, but he’s too immature and self-centered for me. He doesn’t even want to grow up. He just wants to run around and set things on fire. And I’d be stupid as hell to waste my time hoping he’ll change.”