Chapter 2
It was early evening and the restaurant in the Dulce Playa Hotel’s lobby wasn’t full. Only a few people sat in booths scattered
around the open space. The dim lighting emphasized the tasteful deep blue and gold color scheme, and a classic rock song played
low in the background.
Ava perched her butt on one of the high chairs stationed at the bar. With her long legs, she was practically the same height
as when she’d been standing.
Old Ava would’ve been mortified to drink at a bar by herself, but New Ava had a book in her purse and she would survive this.
Turning over the menu, a lovely piece of textured navy blue cardstock with gold foil lettering, she immediately spotted the
rosé option. She was tempted to order it anyway, regardless of Damaris’s decree, but one glass cost more than an entire bottle
did at Ava’s local liquor store. Besides, she was starting a new chapter, right? Might as well let the Universe decide for
her.
Closing her eyes, Ava swirled her index finger for three seconds before jabbing it down on the signature cocktails menu. When
she opened her eyes, she peered at the drink the Universe had chosen.
A Limón Dulce.
Hmm, maybe that was like lemonade. Could be refreshing. Despite being October, it was a hot, humid day.
Ava made eye contact with the bartender, a fresh-faced young woman with a rosy complexion and dark hair slicked into a low
ponytail. She wore the Dulce’s uniform of a black vest over a dark blue button-up with a nametag that read “Luz.”
“What can I get for you?” Luz asked as she made her way over.
Ava offered a polite smile. “I’ll have a Limón Dulce, please.”
“You got it.” Luz set a square napkin—dark blue, with the Dulce logo stamped in gold—in front of Ava and moved a few feet
away to mix the drink in a cocktail shaker. As Luz poured the liquid into a martini glass, she asked, “You’re here for the
teacher’s conference?”
Ava nodded. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t think it was the other one.” With a grin, Luz set the pale yellow drink on the napkin. “Enjoy.”
Other one? Before Ava could ask, Luz moved away to help another customer. Ava murmured her thanks anyway, then discreetly sniffed the
drink. The color bore an alarming resemblance to urine, but the crisp citrus scent reminded her of baking lemon bars with
her little sister, Willow, in their father’s kitchen. Ava lifted the glass to take a sip.
And nearly spit it back out.
Forget lemonade. This was more like furniture polish, strong and sour and nowhere close to the tangy sweetness she’d been
expecting.
Ava couldn’t control her grimace as she swallowed.
As the stinging in her mouth subsided, she set the glass back on the napkin and tried to school her features, hoping the bartender
hadn’t seen.
So much for new experiences. She’d just go upstairs, order French fries, and watch Pride she had no business thinking about tasting Roman’s scent
or his mouth.
Or any other part of him, for that matter.
She turned her attention back in time to see him roll up the cuffs of his sleeves, revealing thick forearms taut with muscle.
The sight made her swallow a whimper. This man was far too appealing.
Oblivious to her inappropriate thoughts, Roman launched into a flurry of movement, tossing bar supplies from one hand to the
other, flipping them in the air and rolling them down his arm in a remarkable display of coordination and competency. By the
end, there were two glasses sitting between them. Each held a large cube of ice, a couple inches of reddish orange liquid,
and a swirl of orange peel.
Ava clapped. “Okay, now I’m impressed.”
Roman executed a little bow. “Mission accomplished.”
“So what is it?”
Roman spread his hands. “This,” he said, “is my version of a rum Negroni, or, as my mother calls it”—he winced—“a ‘Romy Negroni.’”
Her lips quirked. “Cute.”
“Thanks. So are you.”
She tilted her head and gave him an admonishing stare, but the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at her mouth. “Are you
going to flirt or tell me about this drink?”
His grin was lightning quick and just as exhilarating. “Why not both?” But then he lifted one of the glasses, his agile fingers
turning it as if it were a prism catching the light.
“A Negroni is an apéritif, meant to spark the appetite,” he explained. “It has equal parts sweet, bitter, and spirit, usually
sweet vermouth, Campari, and gin. I make this with a dark rum, dry vermouth, and Chinole—a passion fruit liqueur from the
Dominican Republic.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a Negroni. I’m more of a ‘Rosé All Day’ kind of girl.”
His brows drew together. “Then why not order that?”
She gave a little shrug. “I wanted something different tonight.”
He nodded slowly, and she felt the weight of his simmering gaze like an embrace. He held his glass up in a toast. “To something
different.”
She repeated the words softly, unable to look away from him, but inside, she made another toast.
Here’s to New Ava and trusting the Universe.
She lifted the Negroni to her nose to cover the flush rising in her cheeks. She inhaled first, identifying the citrus notes of passion fruit and orange, the caramel and oak of the rum, and a slight floral aroma. Then she took a small sip.
The cool liquid melted over her tongue, sharp but smooth, and she let out a hum of pleasure. Thanks to the tasting, she could
recognize the flavors, appreciating the balanced blend of fruity and tart.
“Better?” Roman asked.
Ava lowered her glass. “Much. Thank you.”
His grin expanded. “I’m glad.”
He opened his mouth to say something else, but his watch buzzed, startling him.
“Excuse me for one moment.” He squinted at his wrist as he typed something on the screen.
Ava sipped her drink and readied herself to say goodbye. Roman had turned her night around, but the man was a CEO—he definitely
had more important things to do than sit around flirting with her.
But instead of making his excuses, Roman returned to her side of the bar. Moving his jacket, he perched on the stool and angled
his body to face her. From all appearances, he seemed to be settling in, making himself comfortable.
“You said you’re here for the teacher’s conference?” he asked.
She toyed with her name necklace, the one Abuelo Willie had given her as a high school graduation present. “I am.”
“So why are you alone at the bar instead of having dinner with your colleagues?”
She started to give her reasons—because Damaris wasn’t there yet, or because the thought of the group dinner didn’t appeal—but the phrasing of his question, paired with the kindness in his eyes, pulled the truth from her instead.
In a quiet voice, she said, “My divorce was finalized today.”
“Ahh.” Understanding dawned over his features, and she caught the way his eyes flicked to her bare left ring finger. She couldn’t
stop herself from touching the pad of her thumb to where her engagement ring and wedding band used to sit, before she’d sold
them.
“Is this drink in celebration or lamentation?” Roman asked, his tone mild.
She huffed a humorless laugh and fiddled with the condensation gathering on her napkin. “Definitely celebration. I’m well
rid of him.”
“Ava.”
“Hmm?”
His eyebrows creased with real concern. “Are you all right?”
At that simple question, something inside her snapped.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not.”
And then the messy knot of feelings came tumbling out.
“It’s over, and I’m glad it’s over, but I have no idea what to do next with my life—which somehow feels worse than ending
a ten-year relationship. What does that say about me? About my marriage?” Her voice rose as she picked up steam. “Plus my
job sucks, my family is mad at me, and I can’t even order a fucking drink!”
She gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth, as if to stem the avalanche of oversharing, but the damage had been done. “I’m
so sorry. I don’t know where all that came from.”
There was nothing judgmental in his expression. “I don’t mind.”
Embarrassment all but dripped from her pores. “You’re too easy to talk to.”
“So don’t stop,” he suggested. “I’m a good listener.”
“Ay Diós mío,” she muttered, and took another sip of the Negroni. “You must have somewhere you need to be.”
One corner of his mouth turned down in a half-grimace. “The only thing waiting for me is reheated leftovers at my desk while
answering emails that can wait until tomorrow. I’ll go if you want me to. But if you don’t, take pity on me and join me for
dinner.”
Her lungs swelled at the implication that she would be doing him a favor by eating with him. It was laughable. In the end, it was the vulnerability shining in his brown eyes that convinced
her.
“I don’t,” she said, surprised at her own boldness. “Want you to go, that is.”
“Then I won’t.” He said it simply, like it was easy for him to stay, even though she knew it probably wasn’t. “Is that a yes
for dinner?”
“It’s a yes.” Then, in a quiet voice, she added, “Thank you. For coming over. Just before you did, I was thinking...”
“What?” he asked, when she trailed off.
Channeling New Ava, she said, “I was thinking that I didn’t want to be alone tonight.”
He studied her face for a moment, not saying anything. Then he glanced down at her left hand on the bar. He covered it with
his own, moving slowly, as if giving her time to react. He slid his fingers around hers and gave them the gentlest squeeze.
“You don’t have to be.”
At his touch, desire curled in her belly, sending a thrill through her system. How long had it been since she’d felt attraction for someone?
Too fucking long.
For just a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to be impulsive. To do something entirely out of the
norm.
What would it be like to sleep with a stranger?
Hector was the only man she’d ever had sex with, and suddenly, it felt imperative that she change that.
Pulse racing, Ava screwed up every ounce of courage she possessed and stroked her thumb along Roman’s palm. But before she
could do or say anything else, a commotion at the entrance of the restaurant interrupted. A group of about thirty people in
colorful costumes streamed in, filling the booths and taking up the empty seats at the bar.
Whatever tension had been brewing between them broke as the volume inside the lobby ticked up from a three to a ten.
“Did you know there’s also an anime convention this weekend?” Roman asked wryly, and Ava laughed.
“I do now.” The bartender’s “other one” comment suddenly made sense.
He turned to her. “Do you want to go somewhere more... private?”
Her heart pounded. “Like where?”
He ran his thumb over her knuckles in a soft, but somehow companionable, caress. “The penthouse suite has a great view. We
can have a meal brought up.”
She swallowed hard. His eyes on hers were intent as he waited for a response.
Old Ava would’ve been too nervous to act on the clear invitation. She’d ask for an order of French fries to go, then eat them in her room while watching a movie and working on lesson plans.
New Ava is open to new experiences.
She sucked in a breath. “I’d like that.”
The corners of his mouth eased with something like relief before he got to his feet and used their joined hands to help her
up. She let him, even though at five feet nine inches she had no trouble with high bar chairs. Once standing, she noted that
Roman wasn’t much taller than she was, maybe an inch or two, but he had a solid build that made him appear bigger.
Roman turned to leave, but Ava hung back.
“I have to pay for the drink,” she said, and he gave a pained sigh.
“Ava. Please.”
“Oh. Right.” But she didn’t miss him passing the bartender a wad of cash as they left.
Old Ava would have worked up worst case scenarios in her mind. But damn it, she deserved to live a little. After everything she’d been through, she owed it to herself to see where this night led.
Still, she pulled out her phone on the way to the elevators and opened her texts.
She skipped over the Primas of Power group chat. As much as she loved Jasmine and Michelle, she couldn’t risk this getting
back to their grandmother, which meant her cousins could never know.
The thought gave her a pang of guilt, but it was like her mother always said: if you wanted to keep a secret from the family,
you didn’t tell anyone in the family.
Instead, she opened her texts with Damaris and typed quickly.
Ava: I trusted the Universe and now I’m going to the penthouse at the Dulce Playa Hotel in Asbury Park with the owner, Roman Vázquez.
If I turn up dead, tell the police.
After hitting send, Ava shoved the phone back into her purse before her friend could reply. There was a fifty-fifty chance
Damaris would urge her on or try to talk her out of it, and either way, Ava was done overthinking things. At least for tonight.
And at the end of it, she’d have a new item to add to her list.
New Ava does whatever the hell she wants .