Read March (Calendar Girl #3) for Free Online Page B

noticed any children unaccounted for at the dinner. Looks like the boxer and the beauty hadn’t yet procreated. Man, when they did, those kids were going to be model beautiful.
    Then I realized what they were talking about. Shopping. Blech. I cringed thinking about having to shop for a new wardrobe. “That would be uh…cool, I guess. Thank you.”
    Angelina sat in the chair that Tony vacated to talk to another family member. “You guess? Look, Mia, let me lay it out for you. Hector is gay. He knows the best places to shop, exactly what will look good on every body type…”
    Hector charged in. “That is true. You should listen to her. I’ve been dressing Angie since she was in her early twenties.”
    “And Hector has incredible taste in clothes.” She added. “You have nothing to worry about. He’ll suit you up just fine. And with a body like that, you’re going to look amazing in everything.”
    “Says the prettiest chick I’ve ever met,” I said sarcastically before applying my filter.
    Instead of her catching onto my tone, her eyes lit up and a huge smile spread across her lovely face. “You think I’m the prettiest girl you’ve ever met?” I shrugged and took a swallow of wine. “That is the nicest thing ever. We’re so going to be BFFs,” she promised and pulled me into another hug. Man these people liked to touch. There was absolutely no personal space allotment with this crowd. I’m pretty sure every last one of them had hugged, shoved, kissed, me in one way or another that evening. Definitely something I’d need to get used to over the rest of the month.
    We plowed through dinner, eating the most amazing Italian food, all served family style in big serving bowls and dishes. The wine flowed like water and, the family spoke so loudly over one another that my ears started to ring. Reminded me of the aftermath of being at a rock concert and the steady ringing in my ears in the quiet. It was like that only louder. These people really liked to talk…a lot…at a decibel level beyond what normal humans were used to hearing.
    Overall though, I liked the Fasano’s. They were boisterous, friendly, jovial, and gorgeous. It was like being in a room of Italian actors waiting to audition for a part. Back when I was in LA, my agent would send me on ethnic calls because of my curves and thick, black hair. He seemed to think I looked Italian, though I was pretty sure I was just a Heinz 57—a mix of everything.
    The evening ended with batches of tiramisu, homemade by Mona of course, and the darkest coffee I’d ever had. Together they were a taste sensation on the tongue.
    When Tony and Hector led me out of the restaurant later, Tony pulled me into a big hug. He looked over his shoulder with a panicked expression, then his lips landed on mine. They were soft, warm, and moist. His fingers tunneled into the back of my hair; he tilted my head, and his tongue dove in. I was not expecting to be kissed like that by Tony. A gay man. A gay man with a partner. Things were not adding up. Still, I couldn’t help but respond. He was a damn good kisser. His tongue flicked against mine, then danced as we got the rhythm. I lifted both arms and wrapped them around his broad shoulders and hanging on to his neck. When I pressed the length of my body against his, he gripped my hips and pressed close. That’s when I felt it. Well not it exactly. A lack of it. He was not hard. There was absolutely nothing happening down below. I pulled my head back, his lips leaving mine in an audible plop.
    My eyes went to his, only he wasn’t looking at me, he was looking over his shoulder. I turned and saw his mother Mona. She had her hands clasped together and a look of pure joy filling every wrinkle in her face making her look a decade younger. Guilt coiled around my heart as I became witness to the hope this woman had for her son. Her only son. Her gay only son. But she didn’t know that. At that moment, I heard a clearing of someone’s