The whole way to Moreno’s, Romero kept sniffing himself to see if he smelled of Cici. Even sick, Isabel had smelled the perfume on him and it wasn’t even as bad that day as today. But the smell had penetrated so badly into his nose he couldn’t tell anymore if he smelled or not.

When he got to the restaurant, he placed the bag with the ring in the trunk of his car. He wanted to give it her later when they were alone. He stopped at the bar before going up. Sal was there micro-managing some of the newer bartenders. “Will you stop and have a drink with me, ass?”

Sal frowned but walked over to where Romero sat. “I don’t usually drink while on duty but you’ve always been such a bad influence.” He grabbed two beers and handed one to Romero then popped one open for himself.

“Good,” Romero said, dropping a twenty in front of him. “And I’m gonna need something stronger than a beer before heading up there.”

“Your money’s no good here, Romero.” Sal shoved the twenty back at him and pulled out a bottle of tequila. Romero frowned. Ever since he started his security business and now that the restaurant was so busy, they’d asked for his services quite a few times. Romero always complied but when it came time to pay him he took but a fraction of what he normally charged his clients. These guys were like family to him—no way were they paying him his regular rate. So now, he was never allowed to pay for his damn drinks.

“I heard you played doctor all last week?” Sal placed the shot of tequila in front of Romero.

Romero downed the shot, remembering the sheer terror he’d felt when he realized how bad Isabel was. “Yeah, Izzy got pretty damn sick there for a minute—scared the shit outta me.”

“So what was it?”

“Bronchitis, bordering on pneumonia.” Romero tapped the bar with the empty tequila glass and took a swig of his beer.

Sal stared at him for a second. “Don’t you think you should take it easy? Isn’t her whole family up there?”

“I ain’t looking to get a buzz, I just wanna relax the muscles a little before I have to be around her f**king sister. I can’t stand the bitch.”

Sal frowned and glanced at the lady sitting next to Romero. “Will you tone it down? I thought you said you were working on that?”

He had a few more shots and a couple of beers when his phone buzzed in his pocket—a text—from Alex.

Where are you? This is boring as shit.

Alex had texted him earlier asking if he was going to be there. Seems he wasn’t exactly a willing participant either but since Valerie wanted to go to this thing, he said he was taking one for the team.

Romero laughed, feeling a lot more relaxed than when he got there. “Get me one more for the road.” He tapped the shot glass on the bar.

“I really don’t think you should,” Sal warned.

Romero tapped it again ignoring the warning and texted Alex back.

Already here. Be up there in a minute.

When he got off the barstool, he realized that maybe he had had a little too much. He smiled—he’d be fine.

As he walked through the restaurant, he began to regret that last shot but he was no lightweight. He’d been hammered plenty of times in the past. This was nothing. He noticed the couple at the bottom of the stairs from the other side of the room. They appeared to be arguing—always so much f**king drama.

That’s why he loved his Izzy. Only reason she’d given him a hard time about Cici that one time, was because she wasn’t feeling well. But the last time she’d brought it up, she was cool about the whole thing. And why? Because she was perfect—that’s f**king why. The man tried to kiss the girl but she jerked away from him and walked off. He followed after her as she stormed out the restaurant. Romero chuckled.

By the time he reached the stairs, he’d acknowledged that maybe he was a little drunk. It dawned on him just then, that since he’d met Isabel he hadn’t been drinking like he used to. It’d been a while since he’d been this juiced.

He walked upstairs taking in deep breaths, then made a beeline to the restroom before going into the banquet room. He splashed some water on his face. “You’re fine,” he whispered at himself in the mirror. A few more minutes passed, then he splashed his face again and dried off, fixing his hair a little.

Feeling well enough, he walked back out to the hallway. The same guy who’d been arguing with his girlfriend was out there on his phone. Romero recognized the suspenders and the rust orange shirt. As he turned in Romero’s direction, he saw it was Charles. Romero did a double take. Okay, maybe there was more than one guy here with suspenders and that same shirt.

Charles hung up and smiled at him, reaching out his hand. “How’s it going, Romero?”

“It’s going good. How’s the party?”

“Good, good. She really got me. I had no idea.”

As they walked in together, Romero glanced around casually, curious to see how many other guys in suspenders and an ugly-ass orange shirt were in there. But the first thing that caught his eye was Isabel’s table. Valerie and a very bored-looking Alex sat with her. The band played some sleeper jazz music. Romero almost chuckled. That is, until he saw Pat walk up to her table with a guy in a Navy uniform. Isabel seemed to know him. Romero started toward them. What the hell was her sister up to now?

Isabel smiled at him when she saw him coming and then turned to Pat and said something. Pat’s eyes were immediately on him, her expression hardened the second their eyes met. “Yeah, I see you, bitch,” Romero said under his breath. “Did you think I wasn’t gonna be here again tonight?”