SAME PLACE. SAME GIRL. SIX MONTHS APART.
This is where I first saw Thalia and her head full of thick curls entering Tortugo wearing a two-piece black outfit. She crossed the room, eyes on the bar, hands clutching a small bag, the curvy hips swaying from left to right.
I remember Nico talking about the restaurant he and Jared were about to open, but their voices faded into the background when I saw her. The most surreal moment of my fucking life. I felt like I’d been watching TV every day for years, and she was the first real thing I saw.
One decision—to walk up to her—flipped my life upside down. Up until then, I only cared about myself. Sure, I love my family, and I’d give my right hand to help every one of my brothers, but on a day-to-day basis, I only had myself to worry about.
Everything changed that night six months ago in this very bar. In this very spot.
Thalia leans against the counter, her hair draped over one shoulder, eyes sparkling as she waits for the bartender to get our order. She’s beautiful. Not just now, but always. Even when she gets out of bed in the morning, scowling and growling until she drinks the first sip of coffee.
The bartender places Thalia’s caipirinha on a napkin and slides it across the bar while she’s scanning the room over her shoulder, waiting for my brothers and her friends. I told her we’re meeting them here for a few drinks before heading to Q, but no one’s coming. I’ve got a different plan for tonight. One drink and then, hopefully, a road trip. Just the two of us.
Next to the tall glass lays a red velvet box.
The lid is open, revealing a diamond ring I spent a whole day choosing. Maybe it would’ve been easier if I visited the jewelers alone instead of dragging Shawn and Jack with me.
The silver band is embellished with tiny diamonds and a big one in the center. It catches the light from the halogens above the bar, shimmering as rings should.
Thalia smiles at me before her eyes fall to the drink, and she stills, staring at the little red box. I’m glad she’s this dumbstruck. For a moment today, I worried she saw through my ploy and knew what was coming, but the way her cheeks flush pink and eyes widen tells me she had no idea.
“You think I’m handsome, Thalia?” I ask, forcing her attention on me, my elbow still casually resting on the bar. “Funny? Interesting?” I take her hand and pull until she takes a step closer. “I believe Vegas is just five hours away. How drunk do I need to get you before you say I do?”
The confusion and surprise on her pretty face morph into the most beautiful smile. “I see my sense of humor is rubbing off on you, but you should know better than to challenge me.”
“First, you need to say yes, omorfiá.”
She grabs the box and shoves it in my hand. “You haven’t asked the question.”
I smirk. I knew she’d make me work for it. “I wasted almost three months keeping you as a friend when I wanted us to be more. I won’t waste time keeping you as my girlfriend, when I want you to be my wife.” I take the ring out of the box and hold it up to her finger, ready to slide it on. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say if you say no, so don’t do that.”
She smiles wider, wriggling her fingers, waiting for the question. I think the whole bar is waiting with her because no one is talking.
“Will you marry me?”
Thalia shoves her finger into the ring. “Did you really think I’d say no?” she chuckles, wrapping her arms around my neck and leaning in for a kiss. “Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.”
People clap and cheer, but I don’t really hear them. I drown them out, and just like the first night, I don’t exist outside the Thalia and Theo bubble. It’s just us, kissing by the bar, my hands in her hair, lips working in sync.
“You said yes,” I say into her mouth, inching away. “Now, answer my first question.”
“What question?”
“How drunk do I need to get you before you say I do?”
Her eyes widen for a moment, and then another smile twists her lips, telling me she thinks I’m joking.
I sure as shit am not.
There’s a suitcase in the trunk of my car to prove it.
Thalia downs the drink, all the while eyeing the ring. “I think I’m drunk enough, Mr. Hayes. Now what?”
“Now?” I take her hand, and we fall into step, heading toward the door while people shout congratulations. “Now we get married, omorfiá.”
