They Mocked My Curves, So I Married the Billionaire Bartender novel · Chapter 19 of 24

Chapter 19: The Usual

The paper bag held my gold ring.

Under it was a card in his square handwriting.

I'm not asking you to wear it. I'm asking you to keep it where you can see it.

I went to the Copper Door at nine.

It was a long narrow bar with brick walls and low lamps and a handful of regulars on the stools.

He stood behind the bar in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow, shaking a drink for a woman in a blue dress.

He saw me in the mirror before he turned around.

His hands stopped.

The shaker hung in the air.

I walked the length of the room.

I sat on the last stool, the one at the end, where the bar met the wall.

He set the drink down in front of the woman in blue without looking at it.

Then he came to stand across from me.

"Roz."

"I'll have my usual."

He did not ask what it was.

He took down a tall glass, filled it with ice, poured sparkling water, and cut two limes.

He set it in front of me.

I picked it up.

"That's what you poured at the gala before I said a word."

"Yes."

"I never ordered at your bar."

"No."

"How did you know?"

He looked at his hands.

"Two years ago, at a fundraiser, you sent back a champagne and asked the waiter for sparkling water with two limes. You said it twice. Then you tipped him a hundred dollars for the trouble."

"You remembered that."

"I remember everything about you."

The woman in blue slid off her stool and moved down the bar to give us room.

"Here's what I need," I said.

He nodded.

"I need to be asked. Not told, not delivered. Asked. Every time. About everything."

"Yes."

"I need no more facts in installments. If there's something I don't know, you tell me now, in order, with the worst one first."

A muscle moved in his cheek.

"Not tonight," he said. "There's one more. It's bad. I'll tell you tomorrow, and I'd like you to hear it sober, and with your shoes off, and with a way out of the room."

"That's a strange request."

"It's an honest one."

I thought about it.

"Tomorrow," I said. "First thing."

"First thing."

"And the last thing."

"Yes."

"Why? Not the notes. Not the party. Why me?"

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