Page 52 of Bittersweet

“It’s okay.” Elio’s voice is warm and reassuring. He scoops one hand behind my knees and lifts me into his arms, carrying me through the café toward the open door. “You need someair.”

“Elio, put me down,” I croak, but my voice isweak.

“I’m not letting yougo.”

“Put. Me.Down.”

He meets my eyes, as if searching for something in them, and I don’t know what he sees. I don’t know what’s left inside me because I feel as if I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster these last few weeks, and it’s not slowingdown.

But I won’t let himwin.

I can’t let that caring look, those strong arms fool me. I can’t let his sweet words, his sexy abs, or his thoughtful gesture—making my dessert—take away what’s important to me. My principles. Mypride.

My self-respect.

I press my hands against Elio’s naked chest. Oh God, he feels delicious. Still, I press, needingspace.

He places me gently on the ground, his lips a thinline.

“Thanks.” Cool night air is bliss against my cheeks. “Thank you for your concern, but I’mfine.”

“Yousure?”

“Yes.”

No.I’m so far from fine, but I can’t tell him that. It’s not fair to either one of us, and it’s not fair to his wife. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time I went tobed.”

He doesn’t say a word as I walk back through the bakery and slip inside the doorway to the internalstairwell.

It’s not until I’m lying in bed that I let those final tearsfall.

For the emotion of the last twenty-fourhours.

For the pain that shoots through my body, so exhausted from the last fewweeks.

And for Elio, the man I’m trying so desperately to get over, only to fall back in love withagain.

20

Elio

Iglanceat the sign above the door, and then back at my supposed best friend. “The Latin Quarter?Really?”

“What?” Nicoshrugs.

“For one, neither of us know how tosalsa—”

“I got moves that would astound you,” he says, opening the door to Colorado Springs’ only Latin nightclub and gesturing for me to go inside. I’m overwhelmed by the music, laser lights, and the flagrant smell of pot, body odor, and desperation. I’ve never been here; this is the place you come when you’re looking to hook up. And, unlike my good friend Perverted Pedro here, I don’t have time for hook-ups.

“I’m astounded you managed to fit into that shirt,” I yell over the noise. “You know it’s two sizes too small,right?”

Nico grins. Goddamn, he’s a handsome bastard. “Hey, the ladies love thisshirt.”

We push through the throng of bodies toward the bar. There are tables and chairs lining a dance floor packed with bodies, and a row of booths at the back of the club. Nico gives a head nod to several of the other patrons. As we cross the room, a small brunette who looks just like my sister sashays over, sliding between us and unabashedly running her palms over Nico’storso.

“Nico freako, you’ve been avoiding me,” she says in a voice that’s equal parts sultry andsass.

“Never. But I’m afraid I’m out of action tonight,sweetheart.”

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