CHAPTER 25
Miguel
Miguel gripped a damp rag and ran it over the sticky surface of the bar. Picking up small spills of liquid and miscellaneous crumbs, he sighed and tossed the dirty cloth into the sink. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, and the tired ache in his brain slowed every movement of his body. With a groan, he rolled his head around his neck.
“You okay? You look kinda...”
Miguel snorted as Michelle’s words tapered off. Her wide-eyed stare, beyond any doubt, was quite telling.
I couldn’t look worse than how I feel.
“Miguel?” she pressed.
“I’m fine.” He cleared his throat and stepped out from behind the bar. Forcing his feet to move, he staggered to the front door and flipped the sign over to read closed. Relief coursed through him as the evening concluded. His unexpected Friday night shift behind the bar at Pier Ninety-Two was a direct shot to the heart. With every mix of a new cocktail, the reality of his world squeezed his soul with the absence of Rachel. “I’m fine,” he repeated again, unprompted.
Who am I trying to convince here? Me or her?
“You sure?” She wrinkled her nose and pointed in his direction. “I mean, I’ve seen you tired and overworked before, but this...” She zigzagged her finger through the air in his direction. “This seems like something else.”
Miguel shook his head and forced out a weak smile. “All good, Michelle.”
“Liar.” She dipped her head beneath the counter and opened the cash register. “And I mean that with a kind heart because you’re more than just a boss to me.” Michelle scooped out the cash and deposited it into a little blue bank bag. “You’re a friend, too.”
His cheeks flushed. “I’m okay.” I’m not. “Really, I am,” he added before joining her behind the bar to continue cleaning up. “I appreciate the concern. Er, I just haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Why? What’s bothering you?” With a snap of the cash register drawer, she turned and sized him up.
Miguel froze with a hand stuffed inside a dirty glass. Toying with answering her question truthfully, a sad smile cracked his lips at the flood of truth on the tip of his tongue.
Where do I even start?
He turned and met her gaze, taking in her friendly and familiar presence. From the first day he’d opened the restaurant under his own name, Michelle had been by his side. Through every short-staffed shift and late delivery to health inspections and rude customers, she’d been his number one.
Just like I was for Lauren.
“Boss?” She tapped the counter. “You still with me?”
“Er, yeah.” Miguel shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
His lungs deflated as a heavy sigh escaped. “I’ll be okay,” he murmured and continued washing the glass. His vision blurred as his fingers twisted around the rag. “I just don’t know when,” he added.
Why’d you do it, Rach? Why’d you push me so far?
His chest ached. Rachel’s fast and easy claim on his heart was now a consistent, pressing weight. Swallowing the sorrow rising in his throat, Miguel closed his eyes and ran the glass beneath the hot water until his skin burned.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Michelle whispered and tossed a dry towel across the counter in his direction.
With a slow shake of his head, he grunted. No. Talking about it won’t bring her back. Miguel gripped the towel and dried the glass. “There’s not much—”
“Michelle? Are you still here?” Rose’s voice echoed through the kitchen door before she appeared with a large brown stain smeared across her white chef’s jacket.
Miguel’s gaze latched onto hers. Her brilliant brown eyes and long brown ponytail were an exact replica of her sister’s. Suffocating on the air catching in his throat, he sputtered and turned away.
I can’t even look at you.
“What’s up, Rose?” Michelle zippered her blue banker’s bag and dipped back beneath the bar’s countertop.
“Marsha is looking for you. Something about a delivery tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, yeah. Greg Owens with the plastic products.” With a nod, Michelle turned to Miguel. “Er, do you need—”
“Nope, all good,” he muttered. “Thanks for handling it.”
She winked and headed toward the kitchen door. Michelle disappeared, leaving the silent dining room behind... and Rose.
Through the corner of his eye, Miguel eyed her as she tucked a fly-a-way piece of hair behind her ear and gulped.
“Hi,” she said.
Even her voice scraped a layer of his heart away. Uncannily familiar, the echo of Rachel stood before him.
Miguel shivered and turned away, ready to continue washing the pile of glasses.
“How are you?” she whispered. Rose shuffled forward and leaned against the bar, hiding the brown stain beneath the countertop.
He snorted. “Tired. Danielle called in sick, so—”
“Miguel,” she interrupted. “I didn’t really mean...”
I know what you meant.
Lifting his gaze to peer at the liquor bottles above his head, his attention caught hold of the half-empty bottle of Svedka. “How is she?” he whispered as the pain in his heart doubled.
Rachel’s face swam in his mind, her gorgeous smile and sweet laughter filling his essence with happiness before the image shattered with reality.
“You asked for her key back and broke up with her. She’s a mess.” Rose tapped the counter with her knuckles. “She won’t tell me why though.”
He dragged a wet hand through his hair.
“Will you?” she pressed.
Miguel hung his head and leaned into the corner of the bar. His heart pounded, bringing a roar to his ears as his blood coursed through his veins at light speed.
“Miguel?”
But the words wouldn’t come. Caught somewhere in the burn behind his lids and the breath trapped beneath his chest, the truth held firm behind prison doors.
“You won’t talk. She won’t talk...” Rose shrugged.
“I didn’t break up with her.”
With a snort, she rolled her eyes. “Rach says otherwise.”
“We just had a fight!” Tossing his hands in the air, he scoffed.
“About?”
“Ian,” he choked out as the first thought flitted through his brain.
Although he’s not really the sole reason.
Rose frowned. “Ian? Wait, what? Why?”
As he weighed his options, the desire to talk about the fallout grew after a week-long bout of silence and brooding. He groaned but stepped forward and rested his forearms on the bar’s surface across from Rose. Staring into her remarkably familiar eyes, the desire doubled.
“What about Ian?”
“I’m not really sure I—” The words stalled in his mouth again.
“You have to tell me.” Rose leaned forward and gripped the sleeve of his shirt. Pinching the black material between her fingers, she tugged. “Er, I mean, if you want to.”
“Ugh, Rose,” he mumbled and pulled away. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“With Ian.”
The vision swam in his psyche. The man’s lips pressed against Rachel’s in a cold, unfamiliar kitchen. Disgusting and unwanted, the memory grew until his lips parted. “I just... don’t even know how to say this...”
“Try.”
He swallowed and squeezed his eyes closed until the courage appeared. “I walked in on them kissing.”
Rose blinked, but her body froze in place. Her eyes were intent on staring into his soul until the shock subsided. “Kissing?”
With a nod, Miguel gripped the back of his neck. Rubbing the aching muscles beneath his skin, he groaned. “At her open house last weekend. I walked in and just saw them in the kitchen together.”
A gasp escaped her. Ramming her eyes shut tight, Rose shook her head. “Oh, Rachel,” she whispered. “Why?”
“She told me he was trying to win her back.”
Rose sneered. “What a dick.”
“Tell me about it.” He shrugged. “She said she felt nothing though. And that I just had the most inexplicable, perfect timing and got to witness it.”
Her eyes widened. “No shit.”
Miguel shook his head again.
That’s not the full reason we fought though.
“Then why—”
“Because of Lauren.” Like a tidal wave of emotion, the truth fell free, flowing from his soul in an astronomical volcanic eruption. “She can’t stand that I’m...” But the words disappeared, unable to continue with the spew of truth from his tired, sleep-deprived body.
“Lauren?” Rose shifted her butt on the barstool. “Templeton?”
His chest tightened as her full name entered the conversation. With a nod, Miguel groaned.
“I don’t understand.” She gripped her pink cheeks. “I thought this was about Ian.”
He grunted. “Ian is just what started the fight.”
“So, he’s not the reason you broke up with my sister.”
Miguel hung his head. “No.” I didn’t actually break up with her... did I?
“Then what is?”
The silent and empty dining room filled his ears with a soft hum, just the gentle background music piping through the speakers bringing life to the space. The truth settled in his heart before the words formed on his lips.
“Rachel thinks I’m still in love with Lauren,” he confessed.
Rose furrowed her brow. “I’m so confused.”
“Ugh! So am I!”
She leaned back on her barstool, revealing the brown stain on the front of her jacket once more. “Look, I understand that this isn’t any of my business. But Miguel, my sister is absolutely miserable without you.”
His gut clenched.
I’m miserable without her.
“And my boss—and friend—seems equally unhappy.” Rose raised her brow. “What does Lauren have to do with all of this?”
His insides ached. Sucking in a deep breath, he pressed on with the spill of truth. “I was in love with Lauren for a really long time,” he whispered. “For years, I couldn’t get her out of my mind.”
“But she was married.”
He frowned. “Yeah... she was.” Her husband is kind of a douche bag though. With another heavy sigh, he massaged his forehead. “I’ve told Rachel everything. On our first date, even!” He snorted, recalling the memory. “I told her about the connection I had with Lauren, about the relationship we shared, even if it wasn’t romantic.”
“So—”
“So, I went to her,” Miguel interrupted as a sliver of uncertainty shimmied down his spine. “After I saw Rachel kissing Ian, I drove straight over to Lauren’s. I didn’t know what I was even doing. I swear, I just opened my eyes, and I was in her driveway.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Oh,” he repeated and stuffed his hands in his pockets. With a shrug, he lifted his gaze back to Rose. “I get that it wasn’t my smartest move. I didn’t do it on purpose or to piss Rach off. I was just desperate and upset. I needed a friend.”
She nodded. “But Rachel thinks you still have feelings for her.” Returning his stare, Rose tilted her head. “Do you?”
The question sank deep into his heart. Years of his adult life flickered through his brain. Lauren’s face—her dark brown eyes and long, luscious hair—appeared before his slowly tearing eyes. Her essence plagued him, forever a piece of his heart.
Until the echo of Rachel’s embrace warmed his soul. Wrapped in a blanket of comfort, love, and acceptance, her memory blossomed, stealing his whole heart all over again. Where Lauren’s love once gripped him, the edges began to fade. Like an old photo, the corners tore with age.
“Miguel?” Rose whispered.
No.
Shaking his head as the emotions sorted and settled in his heart, a smile tugged at his lips. “No.” His skin tingled, prickling with goosebumps. “I’ll always love Lauren because of what we shared. But I’m not in love with her the way I used to be.”
And that’s the truth. The sincere truth.
Rose dropped her chin into the palm of her hands.
“I love Rachel.” A shiver ran through him at the flood of memories. “I love her laugh. I love her smile. I love how she spits out whatever question she has on her mind.” Miguel snickered as warmth flooded his cheeks with past embarrassment. “I love her tenacity and drive to succeed. I love her charm and quick wit.”
“Oh, Miguel—”
He shook his head again. “But most of all, Rose. I love that she loves me.” The truth pummeled him. Each word was a direct hit to his heart. “With Rachel, I finally found love. We found love together.”
From a distance, the back door slammed and echoed down the hall. Miguel eyed Rose as she jumped and dragged a hand through her ponytail.
She smiled. “You’re different, Miguel.”
Huh?
He frowned before stepping closer. Resting his forearms on the bar’s surface again, he leaned forward. “What?”
“I know it’s not my place to drag out the skeletons in my sister’s closet, but you have to know.”
“Know what?”
“That you’re different!” she shouted and slammed her fists against the bar. “My God! Just listening to you talk right now! Please tell me that you know she returns every single one of these feelings!”
Miguel pressed his lips together. Chewing on his tongue, he groaned. “I don’t know.”
“Ugh!” she roared and tossed her hands in the air. “I know Rachel better than anyone.” With a roll of her eyes, she reached forward and gripped his hands. “Except maybe Ryan.”
He shrugged and squeezed her hands in return.
“Rachel has always believed that the deck has been stacked against her when it comes to love.”
Miguel nodded. “She’s told me, too.”
“Good. Because it’s true.”
He snorted.
“I’m not kidding. She’s dated every idiot under the sun. Shady accountants. Frat boy dirtbags. Adrenaline junkies with a drug problem.” Rose widened her eyes. “Even a commercial airline pilot who collected vintage Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”
Miguel scrunched his nose.
“Yeah, right?” She giggled. “You have to trust me when I tell you, when it comes to love... it just has never worked out for her. Until now.”
The breath caught in his throat. He released Rose’s fingers and gripped the back of his neck. Running his hands through his short crop of hair, he sighed as her sweet words stung.
“We’ve always poked fun at the men she’s brought home. Just one loser after the next. But that all changed when she met you.”
“I’m not a loser then?”
Rose laughed and shook her head. “The exact opposite. You won her heart.”
His soul sang. For a fleeting second, Rose’s words sealed the pit in his stomach, but reality battled on.
“If what you say is all true and I’m different from everyone else she’s been with, why did this happen?” He groaned. “Rachel pushed me away.”
“Miguel, I’m a chef, not a psychiatrist.”
He snorted.
“But if I had to guess, maybe it’s a defense mechanism. Like I said, Rachel has never had any luck finding love. And if she felt you—the man she clearly loves—slipping away...” Rose shrugged and pressed her lips together. “I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers. The heart makes us do stupid shit sometimes.”
“Like kiss ex-boyfriends?”
“No, like fall in love with married women.”
Ouch.
Miguel released the air in his lungs slowly through his nose as Rose’s words bit into his core. Wallowing in the stupidity of his past choices, he cringed. “Touché,” he whispered.
“I’m just saying,” she continued. “Maybe you’re both a little at fault.”
“I didn’t run to Lauren because I still love her.”
“But Rachel doesn’t know that. At least, not fully.” She rolled her head around her neck. “I’m not giving Rachel an excuse. Kissing Ian was stupid. No matter the reason, she is in the wrong for doing it. But maybe instead of running to Lauren, you should have just confronted Rachel and talked to her first.”
That’s what Lauren said, too.
“If you love my sister the way you say you do, think about how much it must have hurt for Rach to hear who you sought out instead.”
Her words stung. Truthful. Harsh. But needed.
“She made the stab wound, but you twisted the knife,” Rose added.
Bile rose in his throat and threatened a bout of vomit. Swallowing the truth of Rose’s words, he closed his eyes.
A singsong ringtone echoed in the quiet space until Rose gripped her phone and answered the call. Her voice muffled as Miguel sorted through the last thirty minutes behind the bar. His conversation with Rose swirled in his mind, triggering every emotion to roller coaster through his system on an endless loop.
“I’ve got to head out.” Rose stood but reached forward and gripped his hand once more. “I’m sorry. I told Cole I’d be home forty-five minutes ago,” she murmured.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he choked out and pulled away. “Go. Head home.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
He nodded and rested his hands on his hips. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
“Call Rachel. Miguel, please call my sister. I know you can work through this.” She winked and reached for the kitchen door. Grasping the handle, she tugged before turning back. “She loves you. And I know you love her, too.”
As her footsteps faded, her words did too. But her advice hung in the silence.
I love you, Rachel. I want you back. But there’s something I need to do first...
Something I should have done a long time ago.