perfect sense now. All the gorgeous girls in the club. Me not being a supermodel. And yet you choosing me to dance with that night. Oh, my gosh, this all makes perfect sense."
Tears began prickling my eyes, and I blinked them back.
"You chose me because you thought I'd be easy to get into bed. Because I wasn't as good-looking as all the other girls. You chose me so you'd easily win the bet."
"No, you're wrong about that."
"Our whole relationship has been built on a lie."
"No, that's not true. Not at all. The moment Enzo left the club and I began talking to you, I forgot all about the stupid bet. I thought you were sweet, and kind, and beautiful, and I saw myself having a future with you from our very first conversation. I slept with you that night because I was already falling for you. Not because of some childish bet that was made by two intoxicated idiots earlier in the evening. Please believe me, Felicia. Our whole relationship has not been built on a lie. If it were, I don't think we'd have made it these past three months. I don't think either of us would've felt as happy as we have. Neither of us would be able to feel deep down how genuine our feelings for each other are. I love you, Felicia, and please believe me. That feeling has nothing to do with some stupid bet."
He looked into my eyes, his own eyes soft and pleading. I hugged my arms around my ribs even tighter, blinking back a couple tears, studying Benito. I couldn't deny that he made some good points. I couldn't deny that if our whole relationship was actually based on some dumb bet, we probably wouldn't have spent the previous three months as blissfully happy as we had.
After several moments, he pulled me into his arms, and I didn't resist. And in fact, I buried my face in his strong shoulder, sniffling.
"Just promise me that our relationship is a hundred percent real, and that you truly love me for me. I just need to hear you say it."
He stroked my hair, his touch slow and gentle. "I promise. Our relationship is a hundred percent real, and I do truly love you for you, just the way you are. I love you more than anything. And even before all this, I was planning on proving that to you this weekend."
I lifted my face. "What do you mean?"
"I'd like to have you over to my family home for dinner this Saturday night. I'd like you to meet my mother and father."
"Really?"
"Of course. And this should tell you just how special you are to me, and just how very much I love you. See, Italian men don't just bring anyone home to meet their mothers. Only women they truly love." Benito gave me a little smile. "In our culture, it’s somewhat of a big deal."
I smiled a little in return, a slight shiver of joy rippling through me. "I'd love to meet your mother and father. Thank you."
Benito kissed me on the forehead, grinning. "Then it's a date."
I looked forward to our date the next day and Friday. I went shopping with Tasha for a special outfit to wear and found a pale pink dress we both thought was perfect. But by Saturday morning, my excitement turned to nerves. I wondered if Benito's parents would like me, particularly his mom. I wondered what she'd think about me being black, and about me not having the supermodel-good looks she might expect her son's girlfriend to have. By Saturday afternoon, I sat curled up on the couch under a blanket, my stomach churning. And early Saturday evening, around five, I called Benito to cancel.
Chapter6
Benito came rushing over to my apartment, trying to tease out what was wrong over the phone, but I just couldn't get the words out, no matter how hard