Baking and Babies (Chocoholics #3)(42)

“Molly, this is my other sister, Tessa!” I interrupt, hoping Molly doesn’t remember what I said in the car on the way to meet her family when I mentioned how Alfanso D.’s mother probably tries to send text messages from the television remote.

My sisters take turns giving Molly hugs as well and my mother ushers all of us into the living room.

“I thought we could have a nice little chat while the lasagna is baking,” she says, taking a seat on the couch.

“Wow, you have so many books,” Molly exclaims, walking over to the bookshelf and glancing at all the titles.

“I usually prefer autobiographies, but my daughters keep buying me romance novels,” Mom tells her as Molly walks the length of the built-in bookshelf along the back wall. “I really enjoyed that Fifty Hues of Black. It was quite spicy.”

My sisters laugh and I try not to let this information ruin my appetite.

“Mom, it’s called…you know what? Never mind, I’m just glad you enjoy them,” Tessa laughs.

“Oh, my God. I can’t believe you have a copy of this,” Molly states.

I watch in horror as she pulls Seduction and Sugar off the shelf and turns around, holding it up.

Oh, f*ck. Please let these crazy women remember that Molly doesn’t know I’m the author yet. Please, for the love of God. I promise I’ll go to church more than just on Christmas and Easter. I promise not to masturbate more than two…make that four, times a week. I will let Grandpa George skull-f*ck me AND give me a minivan and I’ll say ten Hail Mary’s for saying the word ‘skull-f*ck’ in this prayer.

“Wow, you even have a signed copy,” Molly muses as she flips open the front cover.

Thank f*ck I wrote that dedication in Italian because I knew it would make my mother forgive me for writing a dirty cookbook.

“What does it say?” she asks.

“It says, ‘Thank you for loving this cookbook and for your kind email telling me I’m the most decent, dedicated and delightful man you’ve ever known.’” I quickly tell her before my mother can open her mouth.

My sisters both cover their mouths to hide their laughter and my mother gives me the stink eye. She was not happy when I told her she needed to keep quiet about this until I had a chance to tell her myself.

“Well, that’s…nice. And unexpected,” Molly mutters, turning around to slide the cookbook back on the shelf. “I’ve had a few exchanges with the author on Facebook and he’s a real piece of work.”

She turns back around and my mother pats the spot on the couch. Molly sits down and when I move to take the spot next to her, my mother quickly slides up against Molly, forcing me to sit on the other side of my mother. I plop down with a sigh as my sisters both sit down across from us on the love seat.

“Marco, did I tell you that guy asked me out on a date on Facebook?” Molly asks with a laugh.

“You don’t say?” I reply, glaring over at Rosa while she beams at me.

“I happened to be on the author’s page the other day and saw your comment to him,” Rosa tells her. “He really does sound like a momma’s boy. Nice job on the cutting the cord comment.”

If I glare at my sister any harder, I’m going to pop a blood vessel in my forehead.

Molly laughs and rests her elbow on the arm of the couch. “Thanks, I was pretty proud of that one. Of course the guy had to go and apologize and be all nice. I’m sure it was just a publicity stunt. Now I don’t know what to think about the whole date thing.”

“I think you should go,” Tessa pipes up.

“Um, hello?” I mutter in irritation, waving my hand in the air. “Person she’s already dating, sitting right here.”

Sure, we haven’t been on an official date yet and we haven’t had a chance to talk about being exclusive, but I think fake knocking her up and being a fake baby daddy gives me the right to call this thing between us whatever I want.

“You and that Alfanso D. sound a lot alike,” Rosa muses. “I bet if Molly agrees to go out with him, she’d probably find out you’re almost like the same person.”

Why couldn’t I have been an only child?

“I think I have enough on my plate right now, so I think I’ll stick to just dating your brother,” Molly laughs, looking behind my mother’s head to give me a wink.

“Marco tells me you just graduated from the school where he teaches,” my mother states, pulling Molly’s eyes from mine. “I hope my son was a good teacher.”

Mom gives me a dirty look, a nice little warning that she will kick my ass if she hears anything bad about me, quickly turning and smiling at Molly like she didn’t just silently threaten to end my life.

“He was a very good teacher, one of the best,” Molly tells her.

I’m too busy patting myself on the back to predict the next words out of my mother’s mouth.

“I wish he’d spend more time focusing on teaching instead of writing that porn,” she complains.

If we were in a bar, I’m pretty sure you’d be able to hear the screech of a needle sliding across a record as the entire place goes silent.

Molly chuckles. “I’m sorry, I thought you just said writing porn.”

It’s like we’ve all started playing a game of freeze tag and the person who’s “it” is being a major * and refusing to unfreeze everyone. My sisters aren’t moving or blinking, my mouth is stuck in a blow-up doll “Oh” face, and I’m wondering how long a person can hold their own breath before passing out.