DID YOU FALL FROM HEAVEN, OR IS CUPID MESSING WITH ME?
We’re late.
Not disaster-level late, that would be embarrassing. But we're still late enough that Cupid’s, the cocktail bar, is already alive and buzzing when we finally step inside, dressed up and pretending like we didn’t just spend the last thirty minutes arguing about the dress code. I'm glad I stood my ground on thesemi-formalattire because everyone is dressed in their very best for the show later. I won't lie and say I wasn't excited about seeing West and Haze in tailored white dress shirts, and fuck, they look yummy. I mean, I don't mind their usual blue-collar workwear, but they scrub up rather nicely.
They’ll thank me later.
“I’m just saying,” I mutter quietly, tugging at my collar, “we should’ve been here twenty minutes ago before the place was packed.”
West smirks. “You were the one who took way too long on their hair. Not us.”
“That was necessary.”
“That was bullshit,” Haze adds, and I flip him off and turn back toward the bar, signaling a waiter for the second time to capture his attention. Man, it sure is busy here. Everything is over-the-top lavish, and the cruise line really did go all out on the Valentine’s Day theme. I thought this vacation would be a cute way to celebrate with my two loves, considering we almost never get the chance to celebrate anything with life and everything else in the way all the time, and I'm glad we're here.
Glossy marble floors stretch beneath our feet, reflecting the warm glow of chandelier-style lights hanging from the ceiling. Gold accents line the railings that lead out to the deck, and I have literal stars in my eyes because the walls are a combination of floor to ceiling glass and mirrors, overlooking the ocean. Itwouldhave been a lovely view, had we left half an hour ago like I had planned, but no. Now, the sun has completely set and everything out there beyond the deck is dark as fuck.
Soft, string lights are draped overhead, twinkling like constellations, glinting off the mirrored walls. Red and pink ribbons curl around columns, and damn this place looks truly magical. Like something out of a movie. I don’t think the website did it any justice because every little detail is perfect.
I take it all in, and my chest tightens a little because bars mean something to me. I grew up in one, not in the way people usually imagine when I say that, but behind the counter of Carol’s, watching my mom build something out of nothing until she passed away last year. It’s mine now, and I haven’t had the heart to change it. To modernize it. To erase the little pieces of her that still live in every corner… even though it could really use an upgrade.
Blue River changes every year, its population growing higher with every tourist season. Being the most popular snowy town in the mountains means ice, blizzards and large, stranded crowds. The wear and tear on buildings from the weather alone is ridiculous. Something I’ve learned since being with West and taking over the bar from my mom. Carol’s isn’t immune. Especially now that we’re serving more people than we ever had each year. We need to expand. Renovate. I know that I have to… I just can’t. I'm not there yet.
I swallow, trying to collect my emotions before my guys notice. I promised myself I wouldn’t go there while we were on vacation and West has enough on his plate.
Once the waiter takes our order, we weave through dazzling couples, very much in love, and find a seat by the window.
“Why are all these drinks named after emotions and…sex positions?” West complains.
“Because it’s a Valentine’s themed cruise,” I say. He squints at the menu like it just hurled the world’s worst insult at him, confusion washing over his face as he scans the list.
“What the fuck is a ‘Raw Dog’?” he asks, genuinely puzzled. Haze and I exchange a quick, knowing look before immediately pretending to be very interested in our own menus.
“Five bucks says he doesn’t get it,” Haze says under his breath, covering his words up by clearing his throat.
“You’re on,” I mutter, looking up at him, trying desperately to hide my grin but failing spectacularly, then everything around me tips on its axis when I look over Haze’s shoulder. The chatter of the bar dulls to a soft, distant buzzing sound, the clink of glasses fading into nothing more than a heartbeat in the background. Every twinkling light overhead flares brighter, as if all of them are pointing toward her. She moves through the lounge like an angel, impossibly breathtaking and I can’t look away. Blonde. Brighter than I remember, catching the lightlike she’s some sort of celestial goddess. Her dress is fucking dangerous, lethal, clinging to her body like thousands of crushed pink diamonds as she walks into the bar.
Am I breathing? I don’t think I’m breathing.
“What?” Haze asks, bringing me out of my chokehold. I can’t even look at him. I can’t so much as speak, and he turns around to look behind him, because of course he fucking does. I don’t have time to scold him for making it obvious before his jaw literally unhinges. The air around us thickens to suffocating levels as I watch Jovi Stone saunter across the bar like she owns the place, only, she’s alone. I search the space behind her for her date, but nobody is there. My pulse spikes. The same way it always does whenever she’s in the same room as me. My stomach drops as Haze turns around to face me, his eyes wide with amusement.
“Fuck, baby. They say it’s a small world, but I didn’t think it was that small,” he says, which alerts a confused West.
“What? Who is it?” He looks up, and I slap his arm to prevent him from making it even more obvious than Haze did that they’re looking, and when I’m not successful, I lose all my fucking game, and rest my head on the table to die.
Shame. Pure, unrelenting shame.
Let the kraken rise from the depths of the ocean, smash a fucking hole in this godforsaken ship, and drag me under and away from this humiliating moment.
“Dude, get the fuck up. What the hell is wrong with you? Go talk to her.”
Is he fucking serious right now?Go talk to her.
“No,Haze Lawson. I will do no such thing, fuck you very much. Now, can wepleaseorder our fucking meals so we can get out of here? We have tickets to a show that starts at nine!” I whisper-shout, cheeks burning, not daring to look away fromthe spot on the table I’ve officially claimed as the ‘spot of shame’ until further notice.
“No fucking way.” I tilt my head toward West. His jaw is slack, eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them, glaring at Jovi like she’s about to blow the whole place up.
“Why doyoulook horrorfied?”
