I set my glass on the bar next to everyone else’s, standing next to it proudly despite knowing it tastes like spicy toilet water. Marco goes down the line, pausing to compliment everyone’s attempt.
Krystal’s is a mixture of blood orange juice, ginger sugar syrup, with a Maraschino cherry as the garnish. Marco hums his approval. “Very nice, ladies,” he says before moving on. When he gets to Alex and mine’s concoction, I watch the blood drain from his tanned skin. He spits his mouthful back into the old-fashioned glass. “Okay,” he mumbles, not sparing us a second glance before he moves on to the last couple.
My gaze drifts over to her again, and I find her looking at me with a laugh in her eyes before being pulled back into the ongoing one-sided conversation with her partner.
Marco stands behind the bar now, calling our attention so he can announce the winner. “You all didamazing,” he begins. “Well, most of you.” He looks at Alex and me briefly before continuing.
Modest laughter erupts from the rest of the group, and Alex slumps against the counter, working the frustration out of his jaw. I pat him on the shoulder.
“The drink that stood out the most to me…was…” Marco says, drumming on the bartop to build suspense. “Rita and Cher!”
The rest of us clap, but Alex — he jumps about a foot in the air, whooping and pumping his fist. He runs to Cher, who looks down at him with sparkling eyes, cupping his face and kissing him obnoxiously on the lips.
I blink away from their display, shaking my head. I don’t think I need to feel sorry for her after all. Everyone has their person, I guess.
Marco started to talk about their drink, but resigned when Alex’s outburst stole his thunder. He hands her an unopened box of the rum, fitted with a large red bow.
Cher takes it with her free hand, the other wrapped tightly around Alex’s middle. “Actually, I think I’m gonna let Rita have it.” She separates from her husband to hand the gift to her partner with a hug.
The group ‘aww’s’ at the exchange, and even Alex regards his wife with pride, straightening his posture. Rita and her wife exchange a chaste kiss, and I make an effort to hide my irritation when Marco, once again, calls our attention.
The annoyance disappears just as soon as it arrived when I see Gayle standing next to him again. I think she’s about to tell us it’s time to go back home; instead, she lets us know that we’ll be sharing the other bottle of rum we saw earlier and enjoying an open bar for another hour — a gift from Emerson B&B.
I thought the price of the trip was a bit on the expensive side, chalking the heavy price tag up to the business being small. If the rest of the days play out like tonight has, I’ll stand corrected.
“Well, guess we’ll be sharing that bottle after all,” Krystal’s clear voice cuts through my deep thoughts. Her head falls to the side as she regards me, holding two glasses of the rum over ice.
“Thank you,” I say, accepting her offering and bringing it to my lips. It’s not too sweet with a slight tartness and a roasted undertone that makes it go down smooth.
“Well, shit.” Krystal frowns into her glass. “I’m kind of mad I didn’t win now.”
She pulls yet another eager smile from me. Everything that comes out of her mouth is like a quick shock to my system that reminds me I’m alive. “Yeah, it’s pretty good,” I agree, taking another sip.
The servers clear all the used ingredients, utensils, and glasses before returning to dress the bartop with an impressive charcuterie spread of prosciutto, salami, brie, goat cheese, an assortment of fruit, breads, and jams. A line forms, and we both join the end of it.
“You seem to be in better spirits,” I mention as we inch forward.
She sighs, nodding her head from side to side. “I am?”
I chuckle. “You’re unsure?”
Her shoulders rise and fall in a subtle shrug. “I thought Christmas was over for good for me. Being here, though, I can’t help but enjoy myself. I would be going out of my way to hate it, so I might as well give in and enjoy the trip. I can’t change what my ex did, but I can learn to love Christmas again.”
I nod my understanding. “What changed since last night?”
She picks up a small plate and hands it to me before grabbing one for herself. “When I was sitting with Helen,” she pushes her chin in the direction of the older woman she was paired with earlier. “She was going on and on about her kids, how they’re doing so well in college, how she’s expecting her first grandchild, how this was her first real vacation in years, and how grateful she is to her husband for forcing her to come.” Shepauses to pile her plate with a bunch of grapes and some fancy-looking seeded crackers.
“I was over it. It was the exact reason I didn’t want to spend the holiday around a bunch of happy couples. I don’t know why, but something told me to ask her how long she and her husband were married.” She stops again, turning her whole body to face me and propping a hand on her hip. “They just got marriedthree weeks ago.This is their honeymoon. She’s here with her second husband.”
The corner of my mouth turns up in a smirk. Not that I’m particularly entertained by what she’s saying, but because she seems to be. “So what happened to her other husband?” I ask, wanting her to keep talking.
“He left her,” she sighs. “After twenty years and raising three kids together, he asked for a divorce.”
I whistle, low and slow. “Being left is no easy thing to handle.”
She whips around to face me and the scowl twisting her gorgeous face makes my heart skip a beat. “Excuse me?” She inquires.
I realize after a beat that she thinks I’m making fun of her. I usually hate bringing Marie up to other women, but the words come easily as I explain the situation to her. “My ex-wife left me two years ago…a year after our son passed.”
