Page 8 of Along Came Amor
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’tappeal—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.”
