Marco – Hey princess. What are you up to?
Renee – Hey. We’re just at our grandmother’s house for dinner. It’s a Hamilton family tradition to watch trashy TV and eat comfort food on Sunday nights.
Marco – I like that. Let me know when I’m invited.
Renee – Whoa, buddy. Slow down. I’ve still gotta see whether you can bring the goods on this epic first date.
Marco – That kiss should’ve told you everything you needed to know
Renee – It was definitely enlightening . . .
Marco – It was something. I just wanted to see whether the DC contacted you after last night.
Renee – DC?
Marco – Douche canoe
Renee – That’s a perfect name for him! But no. He hasn’t texted Hayls either.
Marco – Damn. So I don’t get to hunt him down and teach him a lesson in manners?”
Renee – Ha ha. I appreciate the thought but that’s one battle I can probably fight on my own.
Marco – I’m sorry. I’m a little protective sometimes.
Renee – I hadn’t noticed . . . but thank you for offering to give the douchebag a much-needed and overdue reality check. Somehow I think he’s past being helped now.
Marco – Then let’s not waste any time talking about old news, and focus on Thursday.
Renee – Let me check my diary . . . I’ve got an enema booked; that’s the highlight of my Thursday.
Marco – WHAT?
Renee – Kidding. That’s not something you’d tell the guy you wanna kiss again and who you want to kiss you again.
Marco – Oh . . . well, this is awkward then.
I gape at my phone, going back through the messages and wondering if I misread something or—
Marco – Jesus, no response. You thought I’d wanna cook you dinner on Thursday if I didn’t want to see you again? Princess, I didn’t think we’d need to work on your confidence. You KNOW you’ve got it going on.
Renee – I have some baggage. What can I say?
Marco – My mission is now to help you process that baggage and take it out with the trash.
Renee – And how do you plan on tackling that?
Marco – By reminding you every time I see you just how into you I am.
Renee – Wanna enlighten me?
Marco – Really fucking into you, princess.
Renee – Now it’s awkward . . .
Marco – I’ll just wear you down with my persistence and sensational cooking skills, and if those fail, I’ll have to pull out the big guns.
Renee – I’ve always said to start with your best weapon.
Marco – I’m saving myself for marriage.
Renee – City Hall is open.
Marco – Wow. That was easy.
Renee – Ha ha. Maybe my sister’s approach to her love life is rubbing off on me.
Marco – Wanna rub it off on me too?
I burst out laughing at that, earning a curious glance from Hayley who’s sitting on the other couch across from me.
Marco – Shit. I didn’t mean literally. I meant figuratively. As in ha ha, I’m not easy either and sometimes I swear it would be easier if I was.
Renee – Life would be easier if you were easier? You should put that on a bumper sticker.
Marco – My godson, Jake, just told me I’m an idiot who doesn’t deserve a decent woman since I can’t even text properly.
Renee – Well, I haven’t blocked you yet, so your skills must be passable. And how old is your godson? ‘Cause he sounds like a genius.
Marco – Fifteen going on forty. His father and I swear he’s smarter than both of us put together.
Renee – You let fifteen-year-old boys read your texts? I’ll make sure I don’t send anything X-rated.
Marco – I don’t usually show him my phone, so you’re safe to send whatever you like…
Renee – LOL. I think I love him. Tell him to look me up in ten years if he’s single.
Marco – Good to know I might have a ten-year life cycle with you.
Renee – Depends on whether you live up to expectations. You might not get past Thursday yet.
Marco – Expect the worst, princess, then I’m guaranteed to knock your socks off.
Renee – I’ll hold you to that.
Marco – If you’re the reward at the end, you’re worth the effort.
I blink quickly to stop the threat of tears from taking hold. What the hell is this man doing to me? I’m a strong, backbone-of-steel badass who takes no shit, yet sweet words make me melt? I don’t even know who I am anymore.
Renee – So Thursday?
Marco – Two options. Your place or mine, but both include me cooking you dinner. Then, if I haven’t given you food poisoning, I thought we could go see the lunar eclipse at the planetarium.
Renee – Damn, Lieutenant. You’re already blowing my last date out of the water.
Marco – In all fairness, that’s not exactly hard.
Renee – True, but I’m looking forward to it regardless. I like the idea of you in my kitchen. Do you do dishes too? Is it a full-service dining experience?
Marco – Define full service? And of course I do the dishes. I want a date, not a maid.
Renee – If I was a swooner, I’d so be swooning right now.
Marco – I’ll have to work harder then. I like the idea of you being weak at the knees and melting into me.
Renee – I was half expecting an “on your knees” joke then, but I remembered that would be a Scotty thing to do.
I snort at my joke, mainly ‘cause it’s true.
Marco – And now Jake and Rhodes are looking at me like I’ve lost my mind ‘cause I’m chuckling at my phone.
My phone chimes again.
Marco – Hey, it’s Jake. I just read Uncle Marco’s last text and I have two words, Renee. YOU’RE WELCOME. P.S. He’s never asked me for advice about women because he’s rarely met any that have left an impression. He can be trained though. He has potential, I promise. So hopefully soon it’ll be ME thanking YOU for making him happy.
Marco – By the way, this message will self-destruct in the ten seconds it takes for him to come from the kitchen with a beer. If he asks, I said nothing.
I leave it at that; there’s no way I’m going to reply and dob Jake in it. He might be a worthwhile ally in the future, depending on whether Marco proves to be just as honest and genuine and trustworthy as he seems to be.
I’m hopeful but not fully sold yet. I’ve never thought a woman with half a brain should go all in from day one—or week two, whatever. As I said to Marco, that comes from my own baggage. Although the weight of it may be heavy, I’m determined not to let the hang-ups from my past dictate my future. That’s why I’m giving this thing with Marco a chance, because I believe in fate, I believe in serendipity, and I believe in chemistry.
And since I was gearing up to jump on and ride that Italian stallion home last night. Chemistry is definitely not a problem for us. Not. At. All.
“Who has you grinning like a schoolgirl texting her boy crush?” Gram asks, snapping me out of my Marco daze.
“She’s probably texting her new boyfriend,” Hayley says, smirking over at me. Gram’s eyes widen before sparkling with mischief, and I know I’m in for a grilling, ‘Gram style.’
She turns my way in her recliner, the comedy we were watching on her TV all but forgotten now.
“So, tell me about him,” she says, her lips curving up.
“A real man will never break your heart. He should break your headboard, your bed . . .” She leans forward, her sprightly eyes darting between Hayley and me. “Maybe sometimes your special place, but never your heart.” She narrows her gaze my way and points a finger at me. “Is this Marco a good man? One worth your time and womanly charms?”
If anybody else said those two words, I’d bust a gut laughing, but this is Gram’s way. Ever since she took us both in at ten and twelve, she has never been anything but straight to the point and honest. Then, when I moved to Chicago ten years ago, Gram came with me. Together with Hayls, we’re peas in a pod—except Gram has always wanted her own space in case she ever found a man to measure up to our grandpa who passed away just before we moved.
“He’s . . . he’s different,” I say thoughtfully.
Gram lifts a brow. “Explain, sweet child, because different could mean a lot of things, good and bad.”
“The pull between us is intense, and he keeps saving me.”
“You’re not a woman who needs to be saved.”
“No. But he’s always around when I need him to be.”
Her lips form an o, whereas Hayley just grins and nods. “I knew there was something strong there at the club. I could feel it.”
I snort. “Surprised you could feel anything with the number of champagnes you had under your belt.”
My sister’s eyes narrow. “Hey. Ladies’ night means fun night. Am I right, Grams?”
Gram just shakes her head, a little smile playing on her lips. “I do remember having a lot of fun when champagne was involved. Once, Hattie, Kendra, Bette, and I had a girls’ night in and we shared a few bottles, and by the time my sweet George came home, he found us having half-naked piggyback races in the backyard.”
I cover my mouth, but Hayley and I dissolve into a fit of giggles.
“What did Grandpa say?” I ask.
Gram shrugs. “My George knew what he was getting into when he married me. I’m not sure anything we did ever shocked him. He’d just smirk and shake his head, and then make sure I made it up to him later,” she says with a wink.
I groan and Hayley just laughs harder. Gram has always been unashamedly honest with us girls. Her version of the birds and the bees talk was one for the ages and went into graphic detail that left us half-traumatized yet strangely grateful later in life. When it came to our bodies, boys, and sex, there were never any surprises.
“Is he better than the last one?” Grams asks.
“Sooo much better,” Hayley says with an enthusiastic nod. “And hotter.”
I groan and drop my head back against the sofa.
“Renee?” Gram asks. “What’s wrong?”
I turn to meet her eyes. “He’s a firefighter,” I say softly. “And we know how that turned out last time.”
Gram covers my hand with hers. “Is he anything like that ass wipe?”
My lips tip up in a smile. If anyone was to hate my ex more than I do, it’d be Gram.
“So far, so good,” I say with a shrug. “He’s coming over to cook me dinner on Thursday.”
Gram’s head jerks. “He’s cooking for you? Damn, child, lock that man up and hide the key. My George was good at a lot of things—making food was not one of them. And you know what they say about men who can cook . . .”
“What?” I ask curiously.
Her eyes light with mischief. “They’re good with their hands.” When she waggles her eyebrows, I lose it completely, and all three of us laugh.
On the drive home, Marco sends me one last text for the night.
Marco – Sweet dreams, princess. Looking forward to Thursday.
And try as I might, I can’t wipe the smile off my face or pop the small bubble of excitement inside me. Maybe Marco is everything he seems to be: strong, kind, funny, reliable, honest . . . Maybe it’s time for me to stop overthinking things, because if that first kiss was anything to go by, I’d be a fool not to give the man a chance, his profession be damned.