Salsa music floats around me, but it’s the sound of glass breaking that sobers me to a halt. Mindy’s back is to me, so she hasn’t seen me yet, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to say. The last we spoke, she was livid with me because I confessed to sleeping with Celia. 

So seeing her makes my stomach twist. 

We must discuss what happened this morning, but she’s chatting with Neal and her friend Nadia. If I go over there now, it’ll be three versus one. I’m not ready for that kind of heat yet. Jackson sits at the next table with his arm around Alma’s shoulders and spots me. We give each other a nod, but I glance around for an escape and see Chloe’s dark bob at the bar. Next to her is Angie, which causes my heart to pitter faster.

The way we bantered this morning surprisingly made me feel like myself again. Maybe that’s what Gwen means about not changing myself for someone and being accepted even when I’m an asshole.

Before I know it, my feet have taken me to the bar, and my hand goes to Angie’s back. “Hi, ladies.”

Chloe flinches. “Oh, God! You scared me. I thought you were Neal, and I don't know how to act around him right now."

“Sorry…” I study her, and despite her hair looking chic, there are heavy bags under her eyes, and her red-painted lips sag. So I place my hand on her elbow. “You alright?”

“Peachy.” She forces a smile. “Gotta act natural, right? That's what that mafia guy said.”

“It’ll be alright, Chloe.”

“Sure.”

“He’s right,” Angie chimes in, and our gazes flash to each other before she focuses on Chloe again. “We’re all going to be ok. You have to trust us.” 

Chloe’s shoulders droop. “Evan isn’t talking to me…” 

“That makes two of us,” I sigh. “But I don’t blame him. These are the consequences. Last night was crazy, and it’s ok if he doesn’t want any part. I understand.”

“Friends.” Angie places her hands on our arms. “Let’s push this aside for tonight, have some drinks, eat chips and guac, and worry about things tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll need another drink,” Chloe says.

I nod at the table. “I’ve got you, so how about you join the others.”

“What about me?” Angie asks. “You got my drink, too, handsome?”

“Fuck no!” I laugh.

“I figured your cheap ass would say that.” She turns to face the bar and rests her elbows on top.

“I’m not cheap, Angie.”

“Well, I guess I wouldn’t know since we’ve never been on a date.”

Furrowing my brows, I lean against the bar. “Did you want me to take you on one?”

“I don’t ask for dates,” she scoffs with a hair toss. “Besides, it’s clear you’re up Mindy’s asshole. She can have you.”

“I’m not so sure she wants me anymore.”

“Oh?” Angie quirks her brow at me. “Did she realize you’re the most fucked-in-the-head guy in the world?”

With a chuckle, I brush my lips against her ear. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black. Don’t you think?”

“No, not really.” Angie pulls away and glances up at me. “I’m not a guy.”

“You and I are a lot alike, you know?”

“Unfortunately, yes, I do know.” Angie faces the bar again, nods at one of the bartenders, and holds up three fingers. He nods back, then continues shaking up drinks. “You like margaritas, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. The cutie over there is going to make us some.”

My gaze shifts from Angie’s mouth to the bartender, who has fake blonde hair with dark roots. “You think he’s cute?” 

“Yeah, I do. Jealous?”

“About as jealous as you are of Mindy. I saw the look on your face this morning.”

“The look of disgust?”

“No, more like you wishing you were Mindy.”

“Don’t flatter yourself!” Angie laughs. “Mindy might be beautiful, but I prefer my fucked up life over hers.”

“Her life isn’t fucked up.”

Angie snorts, “Look at who her ex is. She has to be a basket case if she married that narcissistic, wife-beating asshole.” 

“Then what does that make you?”

Angie shrugs. “I’ve never claimed to be perfect. You’re the one holding Mindy on a pedestal.”

“That’s what Gwen said.” I narrow my eyes. “Wait, why aren’t you chewing my head off? By now, you’d have my ass in your hand.”

“Because.” Angie grins wickedly and leans into me, her head falling back to look me in the eyes. “You admitted being jealous of the bartender. I think you still like me.”

I scoff, my head tossing back with a forced laugh, “As if I ever did.”

Angie smiles. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

I’ve become so lost in our banter that I almost forgot I must face Mindy, but when we grab our drinks and head to the tables, I’m reminded. Mindy is chatting with Nadia and Neal, and the heat lamps glow across her creamy brown skin as she presses her plump lips to her drink. It’s hard not to admire this woman. Her vortex of beauty sucks me in, and I want to drop to my knees—beg for forgiveness, but when our gazes meet, her smile dries up.

“Someone isn’t happy to see you…” Angie tuts. 

“No. I guess not.”

“Cheer up. I’m sure our little kitten will be fine.” Angie drags her gaze away from me as she leaves my side.

And it’s amazing how my emotions can swing like a pendulum from wanting to grovel in front of Mindy to not being able to take my eyes off Angie’s round ass in her leather mini skirt. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I look away. Perhaps this is another thing I need to discuss with Gwen—figure out how my heart can be this split between people.

I doubt it’s normal.

Thankfully, Mindy still has her back to me. The downside is it doesn’t seem like she wants to interact because when Neal waves, Nadia smacks his arm and points her eyes at Mindy. I can take a hint, so I squeeze onto the bench beside Jackson.

"What's the deal there?" Jackson nods at Neal and Chloe. His arm is draped around her shoulders, and while he beams like the happiest guy on earth, she looks lost.

"They hooked up a few nights ago," I explain. "Chloe seemed excited about the possibility of them dating, but with recent events, I don't think that's happening."

"No, I would imagine not," Jackson sighs. "Things are derailing."

I shake my head. "Don't say that. We can get things back on track."

“I need a smoke.” Chloe chugs her drink and pulls away from Neal. “Angie, will you come with me?”

“Yeah, sure. I could use some nicotine.”

Alma grabs her purse. “I’ll come too, but let’s stop by the bathroom first.”

“Let’s roll, ladies.” Angie stands from the table, and the three of them leave. 

Jackson drums the table, then leans in to whisper, “So, what’s the deal with Mindy? She was chatting with Alma and me earlier, but the moment you got here, she turned ice cold.”

“I… uh… kind of messed up.”

“What do you mean?’

“Mindy came over this morning, and one thing led to the other, but my conscience was bothering me because of what happened with Celia. So, I did what you said and came clean, but it didn’t go over well. Mindy was rightfully livid and stormed out. Since then, we haven’t talked. She’s icing me out.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah.” I take a big gulp of margarita. 

“You should try talking to her again. She’s had a few cocktails, so now might be a good time while she’s feeling good.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, man. At least try to make things right. If she still wants nothing to do with your ass, you can at least move on.”

“Alright.” I slug back the rest of my drink. “Here goes nothing.”

Standing, I adjust my shirt and scoot over to her table. Neal glances up at me and nudges Nadia. This prompts Mindy to look over her shoulder, but she’s still not pleased to see me.

“Hey…” I wave awkwardly. “Mindy, can we talk.”

Her perfectly manicured brow arches. “Sure. Have a seat.”

“I meant alone.”

“You can say what you have to say in front of them.” 

“No.” Neal stands. “Nadia and I will grab another round at the bar. Maybe two.”

But Mindy tugs on his sleeve. “Neal. No.” 

“Mindy Maira Arora. Don’t be rude! Talk to your boyfriend, and work out your shit.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Well, whatever he is…” Nadia appraises me with a lingering glance. “Figure it out.”

The two of them scurry off, leaving Mindy and me to ourselves, so I take a seat across from her. The martini glass stem is pinched between her fingers as she glares, and my balls crawl back inside me. In fact, I’m choking on the hairs with how far up they are.

“I’m sorry about this morning. I should have told you about what happened with Celia before we had sex.”

“Or maybe you shouldn’t have had sex with her at all. We promised to be exclusive.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, having sex with her snapped me out of the vicious cycle I’ve been stuck in with her. It won’t happen again. I am absolutely done with her.”

“And how do I know it won’t? Richie used to tell me the same thing, but then he would cheat again and again.”

I suck in a breath because I can’t believe she’s comparing me to this no-nipple-having asshole. “Well, first off, I’m not Richie. Second, I own up to my mistakes, and if I say it won’t happen again, I mean it. I am many things, but when I give my word, I give my fucking word.”

“I don’t know.” Mindy shakes her head, the martini glass teetering between her fingers. “Maybe we were too quick to rush into this.”

“No, we weren’t.” I reach across the table and place my hand over hers. “Things are messy, but so is life, and we push through. So we can make this work too.”

“I don’t know, Miguel…” She pulls her hands away, leaving mine cold. “I have a lot going on right now between planning this big party for the Abramovitz, Richie disappearing off the planet, and then you sleeping with your ex.”

“Wait.” I sit up straight, my heart beating faster. What does Mindy know? “What do you mean Richie disappeared?”

“I haven’t heard from him in days. The last time we spoke was about finalizing the divorce, and we got into a fight, and since then, he won’t return my messages.”

Nodding, I remember the night I took Richie and how he feasted between Mindy’s legs before they fought. At least now I know she was there discussing their divorce. She also doesn’t seem too worried about him ghosting her. So this is good—no missing person’s report yet, which buys me time. Jocelyn taking Richie changes things.

“I’m sure everything is fine.” I place my hand over hers again, but she caresses my thumb with hers before pulling away again.

“I want to believe things can return to normal with us.” She looks down and takes a deep breath. “But for now, I need some space. I have too much on my plate.”

A sharp pop, like gunfire, causes both of us to flinch, and some of the people at the other tables glance around, then go back to normal. Maybe life is telling us to kill this relationship—put a bullet in it? However, it’s not unusual to hear something like that in a city, so I keep going.

“Are we at least still friends?” 

“I don’t know, ” she sighs.

“Mindy, I made a mistake.” 

“I know, but…” She shakes her head and is about to continue when Chloe comes barreling up to our table. Her eyes are filled with tears, her entire body shakes, and she can barely stutter a sentence.

“Miguel. Jackson!”

“What is it?” We spring to our feet.

“Alma is gone.”

Jackson furrows his brows, studying her. “What do you mean, gone?” 

“Someone took her!”

“Who!?” I bark.

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head crying. “I don’t know.”

Jackson is already charging for the entrance, and heads turn his way, but I can’t help but notice that someone is missing. So I grab Chloe’s shoulders and look her in the eyes.

“Where’s Angie?”

“Outside,” she cries, and I don’t waste another second as I march towards the exit after Jackson, with Chloe running alongside me. “She tried to stop them.”

“Stop who?”

“These guys.” She holds onto my arm as we hurry down the stairs, so I take her hand so she doesn’t trip. “They pulled up to the curb, and a guy jumped out and held a gun to Alma’s head. Angie tried to stop him, but he dragged Alma into the van and drove away.”

“What did the guy look like?” 

We burst through the front door, and Chloe can’t find her words as she fights through tears. “I don’t know.”

“Chloe!” I grab her shoulders again and give her a slight shake. “Think hard.”

“Alma!” Jackson yells, standing in the middle of the street as if that will bring her back. “Alma!”

Chloe sucks back a sob and says, “He had a black t-shirt and a buzz cut…” She rubs her forehead with trembling fingers. “And tattoos on his arms!”

“No…” I breathe, remembering the asshole who bumped into me earlier. 

He wore a black shirt and had shitty tattoos on his arms. Then it hits me. Those were prison tats! It was Gino. Alma’s ex. It had to be. 

“Where’s Angie?”

“She was here when I ran to get you,” Chloe says.

So I rush to where Jackson stands but don’t see her. Spinning around, my heartbeat is erratic, and my eyes are wild as I search for her.

“Angie!” I shout, just as hopeless as Jackson was moments ago. “Angie!”

“Here…” her voice groans.

Turning, I spot Angie leaning against a car, clutching her arm, blood oozing through her fingers in crimson rivulets.

“Fuck!” I slide to my knees, and her hands reach for me, relief in her eyes.

“They took Alma.”

“I know.” I take her face into my hands but then start examining her arm. “What happened? Fuck. You got shot!”

“I tried to grab her.” Angie’s lips tremble as she looks at Jackson. “I swear. I tried to fight that asshole. I tried to get her out of the van, but the fucker shot me. I had Alma’s ankles, and I tried to hold on, but they dragged me while driving away. I’m so sorry, Jackson.”

“I know.” He crouches and presses his hand to her wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “There was nothing you could have done. This was Gino. It had to be.”

Chloe gasps, “Gino, as in Alma’s ex-husband, who is in prison?”

“Yes.” Jackson looks up at her, his eyes red with tears. "We have to get her back. Alma is..." He wipes his eyes. "Alma might be pregnant."

“Shit. What do we do?” she whispers.

“First, we’re getting Angie to the hospital,” I say, and somewhere in the distance is the wail of sirens. “Then we’re going to find Alma and make her ex wish he never stepped out of prison!”

“I’m going to murder that fucker…” Jackson growls. 

When the police arrive, bystanders give their testimony, and the ambulance tucks Angie inside. I’m about to climb in with her when I spot Mindy in my peripheral vision. She’s standing on the curb when I look her way, and her brows are furrowed. It’s hard to read what her expression says, but with all the commotion, I had forgotten about her, and I don’t care what she thinks right now.

Angie lost a lot of blood, and Alma was abducted. She might even be pregnant. Rekindling a romance is the least of my worries.

“I’m going with Angie to the hospital,” I say anyway.

Mindy nods. “I understand.”

And as the EMTs close the doors on the ambulance, I think they might be closing the opening for Mindy and me to reconcile too.