Picture of Marco
and yes I made a collage of him because I couldn't choose between one picture... If you can't see the picture than go to my page and it will be set as my back ground:)

...
"What," he said shocked, looking at the ring with tears forming once again in his eyes. "Don't do this Eliza, please!" He sat up quickly, letting the ring drop into his lap. He grabbed both my hands and held them to his chest. "Please baby, I'll do anything to make it up to you! Anything at all!"

"Marco, Marco," I said, trying to calm him down. "You didn't let me finish," I laughed.

"I didn't," he asked confused.

I kissed his nose tenderly. "I love you Marco and I never want to leave your side again. But we rushed into this," I said, picking up the ring and holding it between us. "We need to start over."

"Start over," he asked. "From where?"

"From before you proposed to me. Forget everything that had happened that night."

"That's a very hard thing for me to do El," he grumbled.

"I know," I said, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "But for me, for us, will you please push it to the very back of your mind. That night never happened okay? Please, just believe that for a little bit so we can grow again."

Marco thought it over for a while, his eyes switching from the ring up to me and back to the ring. Finally he took it and tucked it into his pocket. "Fine," he sighed. "We'll start over."

"Great," I said enthusiastically and jumped up off the bed. "Now get dressed. You want to make a good first impression for your first date right?" I smiled and yanked the dress off the bed before heading into the bathroom.

...

"Wow," I said in a quiet wisp of a word. "This is beautiful Marco."

"Well I thought I should wow you now sooner than later," he teased. "I need to make a good first impression."

I giggled behind my large menu. "Thank Marco," I said sincerely. "This is a beautiful restaurant."

"My girl deserves the best." He reached over to grab my left hand, his finger brushing over the spot where my ring once lay. "I can't-"

"No you can not propose to me tonight," I finished for him.

"Why not," he whined. "You're already finishing my sentences. It's like we've known each other our entire lives!"

"That's because we have," I laughed.

"Exactly," he said enthusiastically. "That's why you're the only girl for me and ever will be. Why can't we just go elope? That way no one can come between us."

"Because you would never sign divorce papers would you," I asked him knowingly.

His grip on my hand tightened enough to let me know that he had grown serious. "I would rather die a thousand deaths than to willingly let you go. I don't care if you would hate me forever, I would never sign you off. It would be like signing off my heart."

"You sure do make some great first impressions," I teased.

"But seriously," he said, "when can I ask you again? When is a good time when we can try again?"

I thought about it for a little bit, adding numbers to our ages, subtracting a few, adding in situations that might happen. Finally I came up with my answer.

"Five years."

Marco nearly choked on his spit, actually he did which caused other customers around us to stare. "I'm joking," I said, making him calm down. "I only wanted to say that to make my real answer sound better."

Relief flooded his features as oxygen flooded his lungs. "And what's your real answer?"

I bit my lip shyly before telling him. "Two years."

A frown etched its way onto his lips quickly. I knew he still wouldn't be happy with my answer. "Hey, that's three years less than five."

"Eliza," he growled. "Don't try to make this sound better because to me it still sounds shitty."

"We need time Marco," I said calmly. "I think two years is the perfect amount of time to really date and figure this whole thing out. I mean I haven't dated anyone since I left New York. I don't know how to do this."

"What about two weeks," he said, clearly trying to change the subject.

"Marco," I said suspiciously. His head was bowed down and he seemed intent to lay his napkin perfectly over his lap which was odd because I've never known Marco to ever do that. He always kept his napkin to the side of his plate for easy access.

"Mmm," he asked, keeping his eyes downcast under his lashes. Also, he always avoids eye contact when lying to someone.

"What are you not telling me," I asked sternly.

"You don't want me to ruin our first date now do you," he asked as the server came up to take our order. The man spoke in Italian and Marco responded just as fluently, giving him my order as well. I never told him what I wanted, not like I could read off the menu anyways but Marco knew me better than anyone else. I trusted him with my dinner as well.

The server left after a while since Marco seemed keen on keeping up a conversation with the young fellow. Marco only let him leave when I began to flirt with the poor boy.

"Why would you do that," he hissed. "I hope that doesn't become a normal occurrence for you. You don't like it when I get jealous."

"Then you should stop trying to stall," I hissed back. "What aren't you telling me?"

Marco groaned and leaned back into his chair. He said, "If I tell you than you'll get very angry at me and possibly leave me again."

"It's that bad," I said worried.

He nodded his head and bit his lip, something he would do when he felt guilty. "It's much worse. You'll never speak to me again."

I sighed and leaned back in my own chair. Marco kept his guilt ridden eyes on me as I tried to sort out my thoughts. I didn't want to find a reason to leave him again and maybe I was better off not knowing what he did in the first place. We were beginning again anyways.

"Don't tell me," I declared. "Never say it and I won't get mad."

"Not even if you find out from someone else," he asked suspiciously.

"How easy would it be for me to figure it out," I asked instead.

He shrugged his shoulders. "A couple years maybe, if ever. It depends on who you talk to."

"Then don't let me talk to the person who will tell me okay? But I can't promise I won't be mad when or if I find out," I admitted. "It matters on how much it hurts me."

Marco sighed reluctantly but I could see the flash of relief as well. "Deal."

The rest of the night was perfect and I was more than happy that I finally got the chance of a first date with Marco. We walked around the city, just like he promised us we would and before we headed back to the hotel we stopped for authentic gelato. It was so good that I took some of Marco's as well.

"I have an idea," Marco said as we turned onto the street of our hotel.

"What is it," I asked around a mouthful of the wonderful dessert.

"How about in every city we go to we have a date just like this: dinner, a walk and a different dessert every night? And during the day we can go sightseeing just like we planned."

"That sounds wonderful," I said, "you're like a walking talking planner."

He laughed and pulled me up against his side. "I'm also a walking talking something else," he murmured huskily into my ear.

I pulled away from him quickly. "Not on the first date! Who do you think I am," I yelled, faking shock before throwing my cup of gelato at him and running towards the hotel.

"You're not being serious are you," he yelled worriedly behind me. "I don't think I can wait until the third date!"

"It's the sixth actually," I hollered back laughing before I ran into the lobby of the hotel.

...
I just want to know if any people would actually take the time to vote for any of my books on Twitter for the Wattys choice award which is the biggest one.

Would any of you do it?