Page 9 of Bittersweet

When I glance back at him, the man’s eyes are on my butt. If I thought I was blushing before, now I’m onfire.

I walk farther into the café and almost collide with Coco. She has milkmaid braids in her hair and wears a red bandana wrapped around her head. A pair of overalls adorn her small frame, and she reminds me of a tiny Rosie the Riveter. “Escwuse me, miss, but this cafwe is cwosed.” Coco carries a large plate piled with cutlery in rolled linennapkins.

“Oh, I’m sorry. This fine gentleman here let me in.” I crouch down to her level and point to Elio, who stands to the side with his arms folded across hischest.

She glances at Elio and then at me, and rolls her huge doe eyes. I would kill for those lashes. “Twpical. Aways twying to make abuck.”

I laugh, and Elio bends down alongside me. I’m assaulted by his scent: soap, rich dark roast, and baked goods. I wonder if any man has ever smelled this good. “Actually, I thought Romy could eat with us tonight. What do you say, MissCoco?”

“Hmm.” She frowns and gives me a once-over. “Fwine, she can stay, but onwy because she has dinosaurs on her top and she’s weallypwetty.”

“Thank you. I love your outfittoo.”

“Compwaments areextwa.”

Oh my God, this kid slaysme.

“I’ll be sure to leave a big tip,” I say seriously. Bianca is so lucky. Coco is just the right amount of sugar andbadass.

If I’m ever lucky enough to have a daughter, I hope she’s just like this little girl here: sweet, and full of sass. Uncle Elio is going to have his work cut out for him if he wants to help Bianca keep the boys away from his precious littleniece.

Bianca exits the kitchen with her back to us, carrying two large dishes in her arms. She’s wearing the exact same outfit as Coco, only hers is adult-sized and covered in paint. “Thanks for the help,jackass.”

“Sorry, sis. We have avisitor.”

Bianca turns once she’s cleared the doors. Her mouth drops open, but she covers it quickly with a huge smile. “Romy.”

“Hi.” I give a pathetic little wave, suddenly feeling like I’m intruding. “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind me crashing your familydinner.”

“No, of course not.” She glances between me, her brother, and Coco. “The more the merrier, right,Elio?”

“Ofcourse.”

“What are you two standing aroundchiacchierareabout—” Elio’s grandmother comes through the doors from the kitchen and stops, staring at me as if she isn’t certain I’m real. “E chi è questa dolceragazza?”

“This is Romy, Nonna.” Elio looks nervous. Should I not be here? “She’s one of our bestcustomers.”

“Solo una cliente? Dovresti sposarla. Veloce. Una donna come questa non resta singola perlungo.”

“She doesn’t speak Italian, Nonna,” Biancachides.

“Thank God,” Elio mutters, and I’m lost, but he looks relieved.Oh crap. His grandmother hatesme.

“Sposala comunque. Leil’imparerà.”

“Will you behave, please?” Elio asks his Nonna. She chuckles and pats his cheek before giving him a hearty slap. Then she passes him the dish in her hand and stops in front of me. I’m not sure whether to brace for a slap too, and my whole body tenses as I wince. Everyone laughs. To my surprise, Nonna kisses both of my cheeks and pulls me in for a warm embrace. She’s tiny like Bianca, but the woman gives goodhug.

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. . . .” I trail off, hoping someone will fill in theblanks.

Elio’s grandmother makes a wild hand gesture as if to say forget about it. “Nonna, call meNonna.”

I smile and nod, and I could swear Bianca is laughing at me. I’m glad everyone finds me soamusing.

“Come. Sit.” Nonna leads me to the table already set with bowls, plates, linen, cutlery, and three wine glasses. She pulls out a chair and demands that I sit in it. Coco is on one side and Elio is ushered into the other seat beside me by both Bianca and his grandmother, who brings another bowl and wine glass across, too. “Eat,eat.”

I smile, genuinely loving her insistence and that adorable thick accent. It makes me miss my owngrandmother.

To avoid getting yelled at again, I take the serving spoon placed inside one of the dishes, scoop up the hearty soup, and pour it into my bowl. From the looks of it, the dish is thick with bread, vegetables, and cannellini beans. This is without a doubt what I smelled from upstairs. Elio passes me the salad, and I pass it right on to Coco. He grins and sets upon his own plate. I do too. Only I’m far more vocal about the experience because instead of bowing my head and quietly chewing like everyone else, I let out a very unladylike moan. “Oh my God, what isthis?”

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