Page 28 of Bittersweet

I turn the keys in thelock.

“Romy, hi! Over here!” Bcalls.

I jerk my head over my shoulder. My sister’s waving to the woman who rejected me—rejected us—and calling her over.Surprisingly agreeable myass.

I take a deep breath and turn around. Guess I can’t avoid Romyforever.

She hugs B tightly, and damn, she’s as fucking stunning as she’s ever been. The autumn wind brushes her hair from her shoulders, sending strands of gold and brown behind her. Her lips, so full, so sweet—she worries at the bottom one with her teeth. What I wouldn’t give to steal it from her with my own, to suck it into my mouth and tasteher.

But Ican’t.

I can’t, because she doesn’t want to date a guy with achild.

And I really can’t blame her forthat.

I lock my gaze on her face. “Hey,Romy.”

“Hi.” She looks at the ground, at her handbag, at the street—anywhere and everywhere but at me, and I don’t know why I want to wipe that guilty expression off her face, but I do. I place one hand on Coco’s shoulder, ready to usher her toward thecar.

“It’s Womy!” Coco exclaims with a smile. Then her little face turns into a frown, her lips pouted. She folds her arms across her chest. “Why don’t you wike my daddy’scupcakes?”

Romy looks, understandably,confused.

B leans against the door of her car parked right outside the bakery, an amused smile twisting herlips.

“I . . . I don’t have any problem with your dad’s cupcakes,” Romy finally addresses Coco, looking up to me as if I might have theanswers.

“But Daddy said you only wike muffins. And that you’ll never wike anything butmuffins.”

Romy shoots daggers at me. “You think I have a muffinproblem?”

“No! God no.” I shake my head. “I love that you love muffins.” Watching her eat them is one of my favorite things todo.

Was.

Wasone of my favoritethings.

“Daddy said you only wike muffins. He said you only wike muffins, and that’s why you can’t befwiends.”

Romy’s mouth moves as if she’s trying to find the right words. She meets my eyes, lowers her voice. “I—I like other things, too. I really liked the tart the other day, but it came with a side dish that left a bad taste in mymouth.”

She’s comparing my daughter to a badtaste?

My skin prickles. This is exactly the sort of woman I want to avoid. Women like her. Women like myex.

“Coco, why don’t you hop in the car?” B says, and I shoot her a glare too because finally, she’s decided to intervene, and couldn’t it have happenedsooner?

“’Kay. But Womy, wanna come pick punkins with us?” Coco asks, not letting it go. “I have a cupcake for my special treat, but Aunt B has a muffin. She’s weal good atsharwing.”

B looks like she might burst intolaughter.

Romy looks like she wishes the ground would open up and swallow herwhole.

“Coco . . .” Iwarn.

“Pwease, Womy?” Coco asks, ignoringme.

“I couldn’t.” Romy shakes her head. “Thank you very much for the invitation, but it sounds like you’re having some special family time with your aunt and Daddy. I don’t want tointrude.”

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