“Why didn’t he tell you? What did he say?”
I stared at him, then looked down at the bar.
“You didn’t hear him out, did you?”
Alejandro put his hand on my arm. “Preston, I know Victoria did a number on you, but did you ever consider how hard it would be to tell someone you loved you were leaving for three years?”
I knew he was right.
“And why did you end it? Just go the fuck with him.”
I scoffed. “I have a restaurant to run. I can’t just walk away from it.”
“You can do any damn thing you want to do. You just gotta take a chance for once.”
Was he serious? “You’re one to talk about taking chances,” I replied with as much snark as I could muster.
Alejandro looked around nervously, then leaned forward. “I took a big chance and now I’m in a heap of shit and stuck between a rock and a hard place. I’m up the creek without a paddle, and all the other idioms that apply.”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “Did you fuck him?”
“Shhhh,” he said, waving his arms. “Don’t talk so loud.”
My eyes widened. “Oh wow! You don’t usually fuck up like that. What did you do?”
“We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. And one of my best bartenders.”
His tale of woe distracted me for about three seconds before my heart sank again, thinking about Nick.
“Yeah, well…” I didn’t know what to say. The pain that had taken up residence in my chest wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
I took out my wallet and threw a twenty on the bar. “I’m going home.”
Alejandro grabbed my arm. “Preston, he’s not Victoria. I know him very well. Maybe try looking at this from another perspective other than your own. Don’t be an idiot and just write him off. You two were good for each other. He brought you out of that funk you’ve been in for the last couple of years. Don’t give up so easily.”
I sighed and headed toward the door before I stopped in my tracks. I’d had three shots and not the hint of a buzz left.
I turned and looked at him. “What’s wrong with that whiskey? I don’t even have a buzz.”
Alejandro got up from his stool and walked behind the bar. He pulled out the bottle I’d been drinking from.
“This one? With the special label on it?”
I nodded and walked closer. “What special label?”
“This one.” He pointed to the yellow tape around the neck of the bottle. It was labeled ‘Preston James ONLY’.
I furrowed my brows. “What did you do?”
He laughed so hard it made me laugh and the fucker hadn’t even said anything. “You know how you make vodka sauce and cook it for a long time so most of the alcohol evaporates, but leaves the flavor behind? It’s kinda like that, with a shitload of liquid cinnamon flavoring.”
That was fucking genius. “You asshole,” I laughed. “You’ve been fucking me over on my alcohol.”
“But am I really? I choose to look at it as if I’m making sure you can drive home.”
I flipped him the bird. “Love you, asshole.”
“Back at ya, brother.”
