That's (Not Exactly) Amore Read Online Free Page A

thought . . .”
    “Sorry about the delay. I—uh—dropped the phone.”
    How terrible is that? Starting the relationship off on a fat lie. “Well, I mean, I didn’t exactly drop it.”
    Oh, bummer. I’m making it so much worse. Okay, either pony up completely, lie, or just shut up.
    This is a no-brainer. I decide to end the conversation.
    “So, Officer Hall,” I say, completely ignoring the fact that I have been rambling stupidly and lying to boot. “I know a great coffee shop just around the corner from my apartment. It’s called Nick’s Coffee Shop. You know the place?”
    “Sure I do. Everyone knows Nick’s. Tomorrow morning . . . say . . . ten?”
    “I was actually thinking maybe Monday? I’m on Long Island at my mom’s.”
    “Oh, okay. I guess that’s too far for coffee.”
    It wouldn’t have taken much for me to hop the train and meet the guy. It’s not
that
far. And with a little nudge I would have agreed, but he doesn’t nudge. As a matter of fact, he sounds a little down, like he thinks I’m not interested. Say something quick! “I’ll be back on Monday. I have a class that night, so maybe we could meet at eleven at Nick’s. Would that work for you?”
    “That’ll work out great. Only, I was hoping to see you over the weekend.”
    My stomach does a somersault. I’m not used to guys being open and honest.
    “That would have been fun.” Now might be the time to say something about meeting him after all, but a girl can’t start changing plans for a guy she just met. And Mom counts on me to spend my time with her when I visit. Every single weekend of my life. Okay, beside the point. “I spend weekends at my mom’s anyway, so I’m not usually around for dates.”
    “That’s admirable.”
    “You think? Most guys are afraid I’m still tied to my mother’s apron strings.”
    “Who isn’t?”
    “Well, I’m glad you’re not worried about it, Officer Hall.”
    “Not at all. And, Laini?”
    “Yeah?”
    “If we’re going to have a coffee date on Monday, you’d better drop the ‘officer’ and just call me Mark.”
    “Okay, Mark.” I nod, even though he can’t see me.
    “Great.” I hear the smile in his voice. I wonder if he can hear mine.

3
    S aturday mornings are for sleeping in. For everyone but me. I love the early morning. Sunrise pumps my blood like a great workout seems to do for Tabby. On weekends when I’m at my mom’s, I love to sit on the deck, look out across the backyard, and just breathe.
    Don’t get me wrong. I really do love Manhattan. It’s a fun, exciting place to live. But it’s not where I see myself in ten years, five years if God smiles on me and finally sends that guy I’ve been waiting for all my life. It’s not where I see myself raising a family.
    Speaking of guys . . .
    I barely slept a wink after hanging up with Mark last night. I kept thinking about his sparkling grin and the way he blushed when his more-experienced partner chewed him out right in front of me.
    I liked the way he handled it. Admired him, in fact, and felt oh-so-safe when he walked me through the apartment to gather up my belongings. Mark’s a guy I definitely want to get to know better, although I can’t help wondering what he sees in me. But hey, even if this is a mercy date, I’ll take it and try to wow him while I have his attention.
    I’m feeling absolutely swoony, sitting on my deck chair thinking about those blue, blue eyes and big muscles, when my mother opens the French doors that lead from the kitchen to the deck.
    “Morning, Mom.”
    She gives a weary sigh. A weary sigh less than ten minutes after rising from her bed. Her pink house slippers make a flapping sound as she walks across the planks. Her hands are wrapped around a steaming coffee mug with the New York Mets logo etched into either side. She drops into the cushioned deck chair with a grunt. “Good morning, honey. How did you sleep?”
    Now, I know this question is the preface before she