Page 113 of Hard to Lose

“I’m Monique,” the photographer says, stepping forward to shake Chase’s hand. She tells her what her thoughts are for background and pictures.

Their laughter soon fills the space as they talk about staging while I open the garage door-style windows that roll up and open the restaurant area out to the street.

“Should we get started?” Monique asks.

We spend the next forty minutes posing in different locations inside the bar. The laughter flows as freely as I imagined the alcohol once did in this place.

“It’s raining,” Chase whispers as the puddles outside begin to ripple with its drops.

“It is.”

“It’s perfect.” She stares as the cadence of the rain picks up.

“You’re serious,” I say as she tugs on my hand and leads me outside, the little clicks of the camera following closely behind us.

“Dance in the rain with me, Gunner.” Chase twirls out onto the sidewalk, her face held up to the sky, her smile contagious. And when she looks at me again, I see my whole fucking world.

And so we dance.

In the rain.

The beating of our hearts and the drops of the rain the only music we need.

My lips meet hers as my hands come to the sides of her face. Water streams down our cheeks as our tongues touch and express how we feel without words.

“Could you have planned this any better?” she whispers against my lips, as our foreheads rest against each other’s. Busy New Yorkers scurry past us, umbrellas in every color in their hands, but we don’t see a thing.

We only see each other.

But then again, haven’t we always?

“I didn’t plan a thing, but somehow with you, Chase, things always fall into place.”

Another kiss. Another reminder why she’s my whole world.

“Can you look this way?” Monique asks from the chair she’s perched on, taking pictures.

I wonder how long it will take before Chase sees it. Before it all computes.

“Gunner?”

Bingo.

“I’m smiling. I can’t talk,” I tease. But with her hand in mine, she takes a step closer to the front of the building and stares at the sign.

At the first and only thing I’ve bought so far for my new venture.

“Jackpot?” she asks before looking at me.

“Yep. It’s a term our Rangers used to use for a mission that went perfect.”

“So the opposite of FU-Bar?”

“Polar opposite,” I say and grin.

“What am I missing?” She looks around, at the street signs to get her bearings, and at the building before her. “I’ve walked past this place before and that”—she points to the sign—“wasn’t there before.”

“You’re right. It wasn’t. The new owner put it up last week.”