Dear lovers,

There’s one aspect of wedding planning that is often overlooked, left to the last minute: choosing your bridal lingerie.

Of course, you need something that works with your gown. This is not the time for that leather Agent Provocateur number with the bolts and chains, even if your groom will be unlocking your chastity belt.

You want lingerie that makes you feel sexy. Choose material that is soft and sensual—silks, high-end lace—and cuts that flatter your body, whatever your shape may be. Remember to choose garments that can be removed without too much difficulty. Sexy is having him unwrap you like a present. Unsexy is needing a degree in physics to get you out of your gear.

Whatever lingerie you choose, make sure it’s sex-appropriate. This is not the time for those granny panties, ladies, no matter how much they suck your stomach in! In fact, throw those out right now, because if your man needs you to wear them, he’s not the man for you.

Love,

Romy

When you’re a wedding blogger at the top of your game, timing is everything.

It’s not just about getting exclusives on the best weddings, showcasing the most dream-worthy dresses and knowing how to make a couple’s life seem like a love story—although it is those things, and more.

It’s also about being on the scene when it matters most.

Getting the scoop before the rest of the world.

That’s why I lace my Alexander McQueen trainers, even if the fit is a little snug, ready for an afternoon hiking at Pikes Peak. According to her Twitter feed, Kenna McPherson is about to reveal the details of her engagement, and I plan on being the first to post about it.

I head downstairs, tugging my jacket around my body. Is this tighter than it was last season?

Nice work, Romy. You’ve put on weight.

Again.

As I pass the internal door connecting my apartment’s stairwell to the bakery, I glance inside. Is it really any wonder I have trouble staying away from this man’s baked goods when they taste so good?

Elio wipes down the countertops, the muscles in his arms flexing with the movement. I press one hand against the glass, almost like a visitor watching an animal at the zoo.

He cooks.

He cleans.

Ladies, get in line.

He takes the cloth he was using and heads into the kitchen. That butt . . .

Before I can get caught in yet another compromising position, I turn and head to the front door, pushing it open and exiting onto the street. I have to admit, these last few days it’s felt like Elio and I are . . . we’re something. Making progress. Taking a step in a new direction.

I just hope it’s the direction of a blossoming new relationship, and not into the path of an oncoming train.

“Romy!”

Elio?

He walks out the front of Bittersweet, pulling the door closed. “Hey.”

“Hi,” I reply, waving to him and then to B, who stands behind the coffee machine inside the café.

“Where are you off to?” he asks.

“Hiking.” I make a face.

“Hiking?”

“It’s for work. Kenna McPherson just got engaged, and she’s announcing the details tonight at Pikes Peak, on one of the trails.” Hopefully, not a long trail.

Ideally in the trail parking lot.

“Do you hike much?” Elio asks, and it’s all I can do not to laugh.

“Seriously? Look at me.” I gesture to my body and my khaki trench coat, the skinny jeans poking out underneath. “Does this look like the body of a woman who spends a lot of time engaging in physical activity?”

Elio’s gaze darkens. He steps closer. Tension sparks the air between us. “Depends on the kind of physical activity.”

My heart free falls through my chest. There’s no mistaking that. He is flirting. With me.

How is this even possible?

It must be the nonna effect, I decide. I charmed her, and now she’s worked some kind of Italian voodoo on him, and he’s going to be mine.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to come if you want,” I say, trying to inject a seductive tone in my voice.

“I . . .” Elio glances behind him at the café. Indecision wages war on his features, and maybe I’ve read this all wrong?

No. That line about the physical activity—how wrong could I get that?

“Just let me duck inside real quick,” he says, and he pulls his cell from his pocket and walks back to the café.

I turn toward the shop window to the left of my building. Photos of houses with varied looks and even more varied price tags stare back at me. I move until I can also see my reflection, checking my hair is still neatly pulled back, my makeup still on point. My soft cream shirt is just visible through the gap at the top of my trench, and I’m thankful I decided to dress to impress today.

Checking Elio’s still otherwise occupied, I pull out my phone and shoot a quick text off to Emma.

Romy: Want an Elio update?

Emma: TELL ME ALL.

Romy: I just asked him to come hiking. With me. Together.

Emma: Hot date alert!

I smile as another text flies in.

Emma: Remember, tie your laces tight. Wear weather-appropriate outerwear and sex-appropriate underwear. Stay hydrated, and have fun xx

Shoot. What lingerie am I wearing?

I bite my lip, thinking of the white sports bra I strapped on an hour earlier, the granny panties that suck my stomach in. Not even close to sex-appropriate.

You’re going hiking, I remind myself. Just stay calm and think of lingerie later.

Seconds later, Elio’s at my side again, an easy smile on his face and two bottles of water in his hand. “You ready to go?”

I hold up my keys. “All set.”