Page 26 of Bittersweet

“Get your fat asses over to the scalesthen.”

All moving at once, we rush over, but it’s like herding cats, confusing and noisy. One by one, we’re lined up and weighed. I do not want to do this, but as I step closer to the scale, Marc stops beside me. “What’s yourname?”

“Romy,” I answer, but my voice is a small, sadthing.

“Why did you come here,Romy?”

“To loseweight.”

“Why?”

I frown and turn to look at him. I would think it would be obvious, but maybe this Marc guy is all about getting inside his clients’ heads. “Because I want to behappy.”

“And being skinny is your answer tothat.”

“Um,well—”

“That was rhetoric. Of course it’s the answer. You could be a ten. You could be hot. You’ve got an impressiveface—”

“Er . . . thankyou?”

“But you’re lazy, and where does lazy getyou?”

“Usually the drive-through at McDonald’s,” I say honestly. A few of the other boot camp attendees laugh. Marc is stoic. I step onto the scale so he won’t feel inclined to reach out and strangleme.

“Seems you got an extra helping of sass with that ass, huh?” His expression is truly odd, and I can’t read it, but I get the strangest feeling that he’s not angry about me answering back. “Get off thescale.”

Blushing, I turn and step down from the ultimate humiliation, which is made even worse by him leaning into my space to whisper, “I’m gonna enjoy ridingyou.”

I gulp and meet his gaze, terrified that I’ve already pissed off my personal trainer and we haven’t even made it to the hard stuff yet, but there’s a glint of humor in his eyes before he turns and yells at the next person in line. I let out a deep breath and slink away to join the rest of thegroup.

For the first time in my life, I may have bitten off more than I canchew.

12

Elio

She’s avoiding me.

Romy always spends her mornings in my coffee shop, yet ever since she ran off last week, I haven’t seen so much as a hint of the beautiful bombshell. I went up to her apartment once, twice, but she never answered thedoor.

And I was sure she was athome.

I flick the switches on the coffee machine with more force than necessary. I saw the horrified expression on her face. Romy looked from my daughter to me then back again, a shocked understanding in her eyes, confusion clear in her words.You have a family. Every other time Romy’s seen me with Coco, B’s been there. Last week, she no doubt realized the truth: Coco is mydaughter.

And she ran a goddamnmile.

It shouldn’t be so surprising. A plus-one package is probably the last thing shewants.

But I thought she wasdifferent.

I thought she might have been theone.

Memories flash through my mind like a highlights reel. Wiping the crumbs away from her mouth, longing to push my thumb inside. Her luscious lips sucking hard, as if they were wrapped around another part ofme. . .

The bell above the shop doortingles.

“Daddy!”