Page 29 of Bittersweet

“You wouldn’t be intruding.” B smiles sweetly, avoiding my gaze. “In fact, I just got a text from a client I’m doing a special piece for. I’m going to have to cancel. I’m so sorry, Elio.” Her voice says she’s anything but. “Romy, if you can go, you’ll be doing Elio a solid—pumpkin picking’s a lot harder when there’s only two ofyou.”

“B . . .” Igrowl.

Romy bites her lip and turns back to my daughter’s hopeful face. “Sorry, sweetheart.I—”

“Don’t you want to be my fwiend?” Coco’s lower liptrembles.

Romy’s eyes widen. She drops to her knees, matching Coco’s height. “Of course I want to be yourfriend.”

“So you’ll come?” Cocoasks.

I shake my head at Romy over my daughter’s shoulder, mouthing“You don’t have to do this.”It’s probably akin to her idea oftorture.

“Pwease?” Coco asks again, a note of pure pleading in her voice, and lord, she’s a master manipulator, just like her mother—her lower lip actuallywobbles.

“I . . .” Romy’s tonefalters.

“Sounds like it’s settled, then. Come on, Coco. I’ll get you in Daddy’s car.” B smiles, holding out her hand for the littlegirl.

“Yay!” Coco squeals. She turns to me and grins, the gap between her teeth melting my heart a little, no matter how many times I see it. She rushes to my side, looking up at me and whispering in a not-so-quiet voice, “I fixed it,Daddy.”

My chest tightens. My little girl, always doing whatever she can to make mesmile.

She links hands with B, and I press the button to unlock my car for them, parked in the alley to the side of thebuilding.

Once they’re out of earshot, I turn to Romy again. Damn, she looks good. Her trench is pulled tight around her, and I want to unwrap it, want to unwrap her and discover that beautiful body underneath. I want to run my hands over the curves of her breasts, the swell of her ass, and feel her fall apart under mytouch.

But Ican’t.

And I need to start rememberingthat.

“Romy, I’m sorry. You really don’t have to come,” I say, now that we’re finallyalone.

“I’m not the kind of woman who leads people on, Elio.” Her voice is frosty as she looks me in the eyes. “I told Coco I’d be there, so I’ll be there. Lead theway.”

I meet her cold stare with one of my own. I don’t know why she’s mad, but I can guess. She probably thinks I’m using my daughter to force herhand.

Little does she know that Coco is myworld.

Everyone else comessecond.

13

Elio

We climbout of our respective cars, and Coco drags Romy into the field with her. She points at the pumpkins, big, small, all orange-gold against the greenvines.

Light filters through the trees at the end of the field, casting long shadows across the dry, sunbaked ground, and the warmth of the afternoon sun on my back reminds me of my childhood, offamily.

Funny that I should be here with a woman who doesn’t wantmine.

“Punkins!” Coco cries, racing from the gate into the mass. She leaps over one smaller mound and crouches near another, her little face alive withexcitement.

“She really does love pumpkins, huh?” Romyasks.

I turn to give her a half-hearted smile. “Yeah. She suredoes.”

We walk through the field after Coco, the birds the only sound in the otherwise awkward silence betweenus.

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