Page 40 of Bittersweet

“Ah! The girl from the bakery?” Sophia’s ears seem to prick up. As well as being a stellar nanny, she’s also a pretty great cousin, and it seems she’s inherited our nonna’s love for matchmaking just like Bdid.

“Yes. You should have seen them together while you were away. The chemistry was . . .” B fans her face dramatically, “inferno.”

“When I saw them at the café a few weeks back, she looked at him as if she wanted to lick him all over.” Sophia wiggles her brows, and damn it, I hate the pictures flashing through mymind.

Romy. That sweet pink tongue slowly tracing a path over my lips. Her nails raking down my back. Her pussy pressed hard againstme.

I scrub a hand at the back of my neck, trying to shake the image away. That will never be. Because, just like every other woman who’s come into my life since Coco’s mom walked out, she left once she found out I was a package deal. In fact, she ran a goddamnmile.

“Turns out she’s not my type after all,” I mumble, picking up the pace and stepping inside thehouse.

“Are you serious? She is perfect for you,” Binsists.

“Perfezione,” Sophiaagrees.

“Things were going so well,” B adds. “What happened when you went pumpkin pickingtogether?”

“You took her pumpkin picking? So romantic,” Sophiagushes.

I turn to face the Italian inquisition. “Things were going well, and then something changed. She’s not interested in a guy who comes with a ready-made family, and she more or less said as much when I took her to the field. Afteryouforced us into it.” I narrow my eyes at B. Romy’s words still burn in my mind.I really liked the tart the other day—but it came with a side dish that left a bad taste in mymouth.

“Bitch!” Sophia’s face turns to steel. “Who could not love that littlegirl?”

“Are you sure?” B doesn’t look convinced. “I wouldn’t think she was thetype.”

“Neither did I.” If I had, I wouldn’t have let myself fall sohard.

Coco skips down the stairs toward us, her brown curls bouncing over her shoulders. Bright pink pajamas swathe her small frame, and she clutches a book tightly in her hands. “I’m ready!” she sings in this sweet-as-shit voice that gets me everytime.

While my ex, Pamela, may not have felt that parental instinct, I suredid.

I felt it every time I looked at my baby girl back then, and I feel it now. How could Romy not wantthis?

“Book in bed or on the couch?” Coco asks me, her eyes lingering on the living room behindus.

“Bed,” I say, since I know reading on the couch means she’s hoping she can sneak in some TV time afterthat.

“Okay.” Her spirits don’t dampen as she turns to her nanny. “Night, ’Fia.”

“Buona notte. I’ll see you first thing in the morning.” Sophia crouches down for a hug and Coco throws herself into it, the book wedged betweenthem.

“Good night, my little princess.” B’s next, and Coco repeats the process, lingering in my sister’s arms a fraction longer. B’s whole face changes when she holds my daughter like this—it softens. It shines. She’ll make a great mothersomeday.

When she eventually pulls away, she looks over to Sophia. “I’m going to head home. I have a giant bird to tendto.”

“Si.Buona notte,” Sophia says, looking to Coco and then me. “Why don’t I tuck Coco in, get her ready for you and your book while you and B saygoodnight?”

“Thanks.” I turn to Coco as she holds the book out for me to take. “I’ll see you there in aminute.”

“’Kay, Daddy.” She heads up the stairs with Sophia closebehind.

B and I walk to the door. I have no idea where she’s going to store her giant bird, but I’m sure she’s got a plan. B’s always got aplan.

“Are you sure Romy’s not interested now she knows you have a kid?” she asks again, shaking her head as if she knows she has two pieces, but they’re not adding up to make awhole.

“Sure as theycome.”

“But she seemed so sweet with Coco at dinner, and again that day when I caught you two experimenting with food in the kitchen.” Her tone implies ourexperimentwas a lot more X-rated than it reallywas.

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