Page 69 of Bittersweet

The family all remain silent, except for Coco’s whimpers. Elio tightens his hold on her, and pure anguish crosses his face before he takes my hand and leads me toward the frontdoor.

Once outside, the cool mountain air washes over me and my nerves calm a little. Elio opens my door for me and I scramble inside the SUV. I can’t meet his gaze, so I stare straight ahead at the mountains as he sets Coco in her car seat and whispers assurances in her ear. He doesn’t say anything as he climbs in and slams the door, and then he throws the stick in reverse and zooms down the driveway, turning so abruptly that our tires screech on the loose gravel. I lean over and turn on the heat, almost afraid to move, but it’s freezing in here. Without it, Coco will likely be a human Popsicle by the time we make it back to Colorado Springs. She’s sotiny.

Several minutes into the drive, she pipes up from the back seat. “Daddy, why did you hit Uncie Marc? I thought we weren’t pupwosed to dohitting.”

I dare a glance at Elio. He closes his eyes for a beat and then sighs as he opens them. “Daddy shouldn’t have done that, baby. And I shouldn’t have said those bad words, either. But Marc hurt someone I care about. Someone I care about an awfullot.”

His gaze meets mine for a beat before he looks back at the road. My heart pounds a staccato stop-start rhythm. I keep seeing him knock his brother out cold. Guilt surges through me.Marc stole hiswife.

“Who did hehurt?”

“He hurt Romy,button.”

Butterflies explode in my belly. It’s stupid really, but I’m reduced to a twelve-year-old girl with his admission.Elio cares aboutme.

“Why?”

Elio’s hands tighten on the wheel. A muscle in his jaw pops as he grinds histeeth.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, but those deep brown eyes meet mine again, and I quickly shutup.

“It matters. Uncle Marc said and did some things that were unforgivable toRomy.”

“Daddy?” Coco’s words are cut short by a yawn. “Is Womy gonna be my newmom?”

“Oh,” Isay.

At the same time, Elio says. “No,baby.”

I don’t know if it’s relief or hurt that washes over me, but my stomach is suddenly roiling and I’m speechless. I’ve always wanted kids, a family, and I adore Coco, but this is . . . unexpected. All of it is fast, too fast. Too much. Not fastenough.

No,baby.

For Elio to just blurt it out like that—not “maybe,” or “we’ll see,” or “I don’t know,” but no. It’s as if it’s written in stone. Maybe I misinterpreted our whole interaction on the stairwell back at the Moretti house. Perhaps I read more into what he said to his family in thehall.

“Romyis—”

“A friend. I’m your daddy’s friend,” I finish, giving him a pointed look. Even if what he said had just a small kernel of truth to it, this whole situation is a mess. His parents must hate me. His whole family is likely gathered around Nonna’s living room discussing how much of a tramp I am. I ruined her fiftieth wedding anniversary, caused her only grandsons to attempt to beat each other to death, and I didn’t even bring a present. Pretty sure I’m not going to be getting any more invites to Moretti familyevents.

Elio’s jaw ticks again and I turn my attention to the window and the mountains blanketed in gold and the burnished amber offall.

A short time later, when the gentle rocking of the car lulls Coco to sleep, Elio’s gaze darts from the road to me and back again. “I’msorry.”

I study his handsome face lit by the dash. I can’t read his expression, but his eyes are hooded with dark circles beneath them. He looks bone tired, and I wonder if all these years as a single parent and successful business owner have been exhausting.I could be his respite. I could have been all along. If only he’d let mein.

“You don’t have toapologize.”

“I’m sorry my brother’s adick.”

“Elio—”

“I’m sorry you had to watch me beat the shit out ofhim.”

“Stop,” Iwhisper.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make you mine when I had thechance.”

26

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