Page 65 of Bittersweet

“Well.” He straightens and smooths down his sweater as if he’s insulted by that remark. “That’s just because she’s an evil harpy who needs a long,hard—”

“Don’tyoudare finish that sentence,” I say as I navigate the tail end of the switchback and pull up to thehouse.

“And speaking of harpies . . .” Nico says, as my sister comes into view, running out of the house and toward my car like an escaped mental patient on amission.

I barely have time to shut off the engine before she’s opening my door for me. “I need to talk toyou.”

“Hey, sis, good to see you. How are you? Me? I’m well, thanks so much forasking.”

“Aunt B,” Coco says, making grabbyhands.

My sister opens Coco’s door and unfastens her belt. Coco wraps her chubby arms around B’s neck as the woman squishes her up in a big hug and pulls her from thecar.

“Uncie Nico says you’re an evilharpy.”

“Does he now? Well, that’s because he wouldn’t know a real woman when he sees one. Also, he has apiccolo cazzo, so he feels threatened by strong, powerfulwomen."

I let out an exasperated sigh. “Is it too much to ask that both of you try not to teach my daughter to swear like asailor?”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with teaching a girl that size and girth are important. She should be able to tell the difference between a man who is a little shit, and a man who is king shit.” B sets Coco down at her feet and ruffles her hair. “All right, princess, why don’t you and Nico run along and let the adults talk.Bisnonnahas a surprise foryou.”

Coco shrieks and grabs Nico’s hand, dragging him toward the house. I turn and head for the trunk to retrieve our overnight bags. I hand Coco’s to B, and she takes it and sets it down with a huff. “I have to tell yousomething.”

“Okay.”

“You’re not going to likeit.”

“B, just say whateverit—”

“It’s aboutRomy.”

Now she has my undivided attention. I turn and face my sister. “What aboutRomy?”

“She’shere.”

I laugh. “Yeah, okay. Quit fuckingaround.”

“I’m not joking,Elio.”

I study her face. She doesn’t look as if she’s lying. In fact, she looks crestfallen. My brows practically shoot up into my hairline, but I can’t shake the feeling she’s fucking withme.

“She really is here. Inside,” shesays.

“Did you set this up? DidNonna?”

“No.”

“Would you quit screwing around and tell me what the hell is going on?” I demand, but decide I can’t wait anymore. I forget about our bags, about closing the doors, or pulling the keys from the ignition, and stalk toward thehouse.

“Elio . . . she’s datingMarc.”

My blood runs cold. I stop in my tracks and stay perfectly still, certain I’ve misheard her. My sister touches my arm and I yank it away. “What did yousay?”

“She’s Marc’s date. The new girl he told Mom he was bringing? Well, Romy is thatgirl.”

My jaw drops. Romy’s face at the club the other night when she pushed me away, the sweet taste of her still in my mouth . . .“I’m seeing someone.”What the fuck? That someone was my douche of a brother? “You gotta be kiddingme.”

B exhales noisily. “I wish I were,fratello.”

---