Page 55 of Bittersweet

“You seem a little strange.” He gestures to the couch, and I settle into it. “Is it because of what Isaid?”

I wrack my brain. What he said? He’s said plenty of things to give me cause for concern before, but none of them have happened during the last two minutes of my life. “What did yousay?”

“You looked good enough to eat.” He takes a deep breath, sinking onto the couch beside me and taking my hands. “Romy, you look amazing. You’ve worked so hard these last few weeks, and the results are finally starting toshow.”

“Thank you.” I smile, because damn it, that might just be the nicest thing Marc has ever said tome.

“And that’s why I was thinking this might be a good time to take our relationship to the next level,” hecontinues.

I stop breathing. He wants to have . . .sex?

I’m unsure how I feel about that. On the one hand, I’m ready. I’ve been ready to have sex with someone who isn’t my ex for a very longtime.

But at the same time, I always imagined that someone would beElio.

This time last week, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go on a date with Marc. Is it really time to get nakedtogether?

“Wow.” I nod slowly. “Tonight?”

He laughs as if I’m being ridiculous. “Tomorrow. I wouldn’t just spring it on you likethat.”

My eyes widen. I needwarning?

Surreptitiously, I glance at his jeans. Is it because he’s so big I need to . . .stretch?

No. It can’t be. I’ve seen him in gym shorts before. If there was an anaconda lurking in his jungle, I’d have had some indication of it bynow.

What if it’s so big he straps it when he worksout?

“Tell me more,” I say, not willing to agree without checking the details first, especially after the I-thought-smoothie-meant-sex incident. Clearly, interpreting his signals is not my strongpoint.

“I want you to meet myfamily.”

Oh.

Oh.

That kind of nextlevel.

“I know this is only our second date, but we’ve seen each other every day forweeks.”

“You want me to meet your family?” I ask, bringing the conversation back to safeground.

“Yes. I’ve told my mom all about you. She can’t wait.” He leans closer, takes my hands in his. “Seriously, babe. It would mean a lot tome.”

“I—”

A sharp rap on the door interruptsme.

“That’ll be dinner. I ordered before you came. Sorry, I was really hungry,” he says, jumping from the couch and heading to thedoor.

My mind reels, trying to process it all. Marc Moretti likes me. He wants to introduce me to his family. He wants to take care ofme.

“Let’s eat.” Marc closes the door and dumps a plastic bag unceremoniously on the table. “I’m starving. Marc had a big day ofclients.”

Marc talks in the third person and doesn’t give me goosebumps.

But maybe goose bumps aren’t real. Maybe they only exist in the places I first found them—fairy tales and Disneymovies.