"I said it first," she managed, gulping a little.
"Yeah, you did." He pushed the hair off her face. "Let's get out of here."
"They haven't announced the winner yet."
He looked out at the audience, then to the other men. Then he looked at her face and his eyes locked on hers. "Trust me," he said. "I just won the only thing I want."
Epilogue
Tyree Johnson leaned against the oak bar and watched as Nolan and Shelby headed for the door. He wondered if he should tell them to stay a bit, since in about three minutes, Beverly would announce that Nolan had won the title of Mr. April.
But he decided not to. There'd be plenty of celebrating without the boy around, and from the look on Nolan's face, wild horses couldn't keep him inside the bar.
And about damn time, Tyree thought. There wasn't much around The Fix he didn't notice, and he'd seen the two of them flirting back in April. He'd known then and there that they'd end up together. He just hadn't expected it would take months for the two of them to figure it out for themselves.
With a sigh, he started to make the circle, shaking hands and chatting up the customers. It would be a damn shame if he couldn't manage to keep The Fix open, because from the looks of it, his little bar was turning into one hell of a matchmaker's paradise.
He paused for a moment when Brent called his name, and he turned back to see his friend and partner signal for Tyree to reboot the security cameras. He flashed a thumbs-up and was about to head to the office to deal with that errand when he saw a familiar young woman.
She was tall, probably five foot eight, with skin as dark as Tyree's and a wide, easy smile that reminded him of Eva's. He'd seen her at least once before in the bar--two, maybe three days ago--and it had been that resemblance that had caught his eye. He'd s
een that smile from across the bar, and it had felt like he'd taken shrapnel in the gut.
Tonight, he was more prepared, and he took a closer look at her face, realizing as he did that it wasn't just the smile that reminded him of his first love, but her huge wide-eyes and sculpted cheekbones as well.
Christ, he was a glutton for punishment. He should have just turned away the minute he saw her walk through that door. He had no idea who she was, but a storm of bittersweet memories had swept in through the door with her, twisting up his insides and making him ache with the pain of long ago losses.
Once in his office, he rebooted the security system, then sat at his desk. He knew he should either be out on the floor or taking care of the shit-ton of paperwork that came with running a bar. Instead, he reached down and opened the bottom drawer of his desk, then pulled out the battered cigar box.
He opened it, pulled out a stack of photographs, then reverently thumbed through it. Him and Teiko, his late wife. His son, Elijah, at birth. Then himself at nine years old, standing tall and trying to hold it together at his mother's funeral.
Tyree drew a shaky breath, then ran his thumb under his eyes before continuing down memory lane. There was a photo of him and Charlie Walker, Reece's dad. And one of him with Reece's uncle, Vincent, just days before he'd been mortally wounded by enemy fire in Afghanistan, then died in Tyree's arms.
Another deep breath, and Tyree continued, finally finding the photograph he'd been looking for. Over twenty years old now, the colors had faded, so that Eva's dress looked pink rather than red, and the sky more gray than blue. But the love in her eyes was still there, and the face was still hers.
His heart twisted as he recalled their weekend together in San Diego before he'd been shipped out. They'd known each other only two short weeks, but he'd been madly in love with her.
He'd thought she'd wait, but by the time he returned, she was gone, and though he'd tried to track her down, he'd had no luck. Then he met Teiko, had fallen so damn hard, and, well, life went on. A wonderful, perfect life.
Or, at least, it had been until tragedy hit.
God, he missed his wife.
He put the picture back in the cigar box, wishing he hadn't opened those doors. Eva. Teiko. Both women he'd loved.
Both women he'd lost.
There was a sharp knock on his doorframe, and he looked up to see a ghost.
He blinked.
No, not a ghost. That wasn't Eva. Of course it wasn't. But once again he was struck stupid by the resemblance.
"Mr. Johnson?" Her voice was lyrical yet strong, and achingly familiar. "They said I could come back. I--you are Tyree Johnson, right?"
"That's me."
She drew in a breath, as if his words were a relief.