Reckless Kiss

“Why not?”

I glance to where he’s standing at the bar waiting, tall and slim in his tuxedo. He rises above the other men standing around, handsome as a model, glancing in our direction every so often. So protective. Our eyes catch, and he smiles, warming my stomach. I love him so much.

“It’s really early… I wanted to wait for a special moment.” Returning to her, I do a little shrug. “I thought tonight might be a good time. After the ball.”

“You’ve been living with him?”

“I’ve spent a few nights at his apartment.”

Her hands go up, and she does a little wave. “I’ve had enough of this. Tell Deacon we’ll talk about this later. I’m going home.”

With that she turns and walks away, leaving me standing in front of the cluster of tables all alone. Deacon is settling up with the bartender, and I recognize a familiar voice.

“Carmen?” Looking around, I see a guy I recognize from Valeria’s old neighborhood.

“Chris?”

He’s wearing a white coat, and I realize he’s one of the waiters. “What are you doing here?”

“I—”

“Hey, sorry that took so long.” Deacon appears at my side.

I smile up at him, taking my soft drink out of his full hands. “Your aunt had to go.”

“She did?” He looks at the vodka he’s holding and then towards the door. “You want this?”

“No thanks. This is an old friend Chris…” Turning back to the guy, I’m confused when I see he’s scowling. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re here with him?” Chris nods, motioning with his tray at Deacon.

My mouth drops, and I’m about to answer when Deacon steps forward to shake his hand.

“Hey, how’s it going? Chris you said?” He’s friendly, open. “I’m Deacon.”

“I know who you are.” Chris’s black eyes flash at mine. “He shot your brother.”

“No, that’s not what happened—” I step forward to stop him, but he backs away, moving farther into the crowd.

Deacon watches him go before turning to me. “Not sure what to do with that.”

Anger tightens my throat. If my brother is spreading lies, putting Deacon in jeopardy… “I know what to do about it,” I say under my breath. I’m going to visit him tomorrow.

“Where did my aunt go?” Deacon’s scanning the crowded room.

“She left. Said she’d talk to you later.”

Our eyes meet, and we both seem a bit deflated.

“Hey.” He puts his drink on the high table and his hands on my waist, pulling me closer. “We’re supposed to be having fun tonight. Let’s dance.”

Nodding, I follow him back to the floor, where we get cozy and sway to the instrumental version of “Beyond the Sea,” and my mind drifts to Sofia. It feels like a year has passed since Beto destroyed everything, and Lourdes called Deacon my prince. He is my prince, but unlike that fictional princess, I’m not giving up anything to be with him. My brother is not a king, he’s not my father, and he’s not going to threaten our love.

We dance. We sample the barbecue skewers on platters. I sip ginger ale, while Deacon sticks to scotch. The only members of the old guard who approach us are the men. They shake Deacon’s hand, ask how his business is going, welcome him back to town.

I feel the eyes of all the old women in the room on us the entire night, and I’m su

re we’re the subject of much gossip, the same gossip that sent Winnie running for the hills. I can’t decide if I think she’s a coward or if she did it to avoid engaging.