Chapter Six

The next happened as I had hoped. Once Lola had been released from the medical center, a bit shaken but in good health, we all went out for dinner in the Old Town of Segovia. In truth, I had hoped for Robin and me to be alone at a romantic table, but we couldn't exactly exclude our two women friends from the party.

It's evening, the setting sun filling the narrow streets with languorous heat. This is tourist season, and all the restaurant tables are taken. Luckily, Mira-Me made a call to a manager earlier, offering top promotion on her Insta and Snap profiles and thus obtaining a nice table for four on a terrace overlooking the majestic Gothic cathedral. I've got to hand it to her, the girl has proven to be useful more than once.

My decision to stay off the booze meets some serious challenge when Robin, who sits across the table from me, orders a bottle of rosé . "We're going to celebrate that Lola is fine," he states, looking appeased and confident. It took him a while to get back to his normal self after the accident. "You have no idea how relieved I am."

A waiter brings a pink bottle and fills our glasses. I put a hand over mine. "Um, thanks, but I'm not having any."

"Why not?" my friends ask in unison, brows raised.

"I've decided to do something about my drinking problem." There, it's out, and those who didn't know I had a problem now know.

Mira-Me doesn't care. She stares openly at the waiter, a Spaniard with the looks and charisma of a young Antonio Banderas. I can understand her attraction, but I already have one right ahead of me, and it takes all my strength not to lean over the table, grab his shirt collar, and kiss him the way we kissed in the restroom. That steaming hot scene will stay very live in my mind and keep me lusting for a long time. Unless we do something even crazier.

The object of my desire studies me, hands folded on the table, his emeralds holding a strange radiance. "You know, it's possible to ‘quit drinking' and still enjoy a glass once in a while."

I shrug. "I don't know. I'm afraid I can't stop at one."

"Why would you want to stop at one?" Mira-Me asks at my side, adding a small laugh.

"Because it has become a problem. I'm in such bad shape, I had trouble carrying Lola earlier. I wasn't breathing , I was making sounds you'd only hear in your worst nightmares." I grin to show I'm half-joking. "It's pathetic, and it's due to my daily alcohol consumption."

Lola, who without the facial paint reveals Latin features of great beauty, sends me a warm smile. "Don't underestimate yourself. You saved my life."

"Nope. Your extreme physical fitness is what saved you. You're all muscles, lady."

"Whatevs." She waves a dismissive hand. "You're my hero. You beat all of them trapezists and tightrope walkers and musclemen breaking chains etcetera at the circus. You even beat Robin, who's almost as strong as me." She elbows him in the ribs.

He chuckles, enjoying the gentle banter. It's nice to see them behave like loving siblings—I recall what he said at the medical center, how she's a sister to him.

A hollow settles in my stomach. I'm an only child and don't know what it's like to have a sibling. I don't even know what it's like to have parents anymore. Mine are cold and distant, back-talking me and fretting over petty issues.

Robin slides his wineglass across the table and sets it in front of me. "Have some and tell yourself that's all for now. Take control of your urge. I know, I've been through this."

"You have?" Mira-Me asks, voice high-pitched and gaze big as her loop earrings.

I nod my head to her and tell him, "Careful what you say, this bimbo will broadcast anything that can increase her numbers of likes and comments. "

He laughs again and winks at her. "Oh, but she knows I have enough followers to crush her numbers."

"That's actually true," I agree, teasing her. "If you add up your followers on YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, Vimeo, your blog, and—"

She sticks her tongue out at both of us, then finishes her glass and raises it to the waiter, who serves other guests nearby. " Uno más, por favor ." One more, please.

He replies with a charming wink. " Sí, un momento. " Yes, just a moment.

Lola leans over the table and pushes Robin's wineglass closer to me. "Come on, have a taste. For me. And for you, because you were there for me." She sits back in her chair with fingers crossed over her stomach and her yellow-brown gaze full of humor and expectation. "Cheers, buddy."

That draws a smile from me. I appreciate her friendship. Yesterday, she practically jumped on me with her claws out because I'd been rude to her friend-brother.

The waiter returns with the bottle of rosé. All smiles, Mira-Me lifts her glass for him.

He thins his gorgeous black eyes and asks her, "Have I seen you somewhere?"

The girl beams as if the sun itself has taken residence in her. "Of course you have, Sweetheart. I'm an influencer. " She puts emphasis on the last word, giving it more importance. "I'm all over the world."

He refills her glass with a mysterious smile.

" Gracias ," she coos, fluttering her eyelashes. Thank you.

When he's gone, she gapes her mouth wide-open, staring at us around the table. "Oh my Gawd," she exclaims, ecstatic. "Did you see how hot he is?"

Lola laughs.

"He's even hotter than Robin," Mira-Me continues. "And he is hot."

Robin shakes his head, as if to say she's being silly.

"Right, Zane?" she asks, turning to me and flashing her teeth.

"With those mimics," Robin throws at her, "you could pass for a clown."

"Seriously, Zane is single. In case you're wondering."

"Oh, shut up," I groan and rub my face.

"Hey, everyone saw what was going on over the fence earlier."

"It was just a prank." I'm not ready to talk about the kiss with such a superficial person.

"Right," she scoffs. "Cheers, Zane."

"Cheers." I consider the glass of rosé in front of me. It's tempting. Light from the setting sun traverses it, giving the wine a rich, red-pink glow. The scent of sweet grapes and the woodsy sting of alcohol sneak into my nostrils, and my body knows a few swallows of this beverage can make me feel more joyous. Can I have this one glass and stop at that? Do I absolutely need more, or has the drinking just become an annoying habit I can control if I set my mind to it?

I started drinking because seeing my kid endure cancer treatment and all its ugly facets tore at my heartstrings worse than anything I'd experienced before. The pain of witnessing his hurts and fears, and the inability to help him—save him—destroyed me bit by bit, day after day. Long after his death, I continued escaping the horrors. Downing liquor until I was senseless wasn't an addiction but a means of survival. I was a broken soul who had been too close to Hell's furnace too long, and the edges of my wings had begun to burn.

I take a deep breath. I can't tell any of this to my friends, because it would chill their good mood and I don't want to ruin the evening.

Something strokes my leg underneath the table. I freeze but refrain from looking down. Was it a cat? Robin's voice brings me back to him. Warm and soothing. "We've got you, partner. It will only be this one glass."

"Yeah," Mira-Me quips, "and if you don't want it, I'll have it. Ha-ha. No problemo. "

I guess I can do it. I can decide not to give in to the thirst. It's like saying no to cigarettes, it's a matter of controlling the brain. Then with time, the body will adjust and accept, too. The urges will become a distant memory.

But do I want to say no? Or am I afraid of losing the assurance of knowing I can always seek refuge in a bottle, should my blues get too bad?

A new stroke of my leg, gentle but lasting longer, has me think it's not a cat but Robin, because over the table he is eyeing me with an inscrutable look telling me something intense. What? It's not only about the drink, is it? I need to ask him—my heart is screaming for understanding—but not here in the company of the two women.

"Okay, I trust you guys." I clear my throat, grab the glass of rosé, and raise it in a toast. "To Lola, and to us. May this day be a new beginning in our lives." And I don't only mean the control of my addiction.

"Cheers," the two women say, toasting.

I put my lips to the glass and taste the rosé on my tongue. It's sweet, it tastes fruity, and the sharp fumes tease my nose, mouth, everything that is used to consuming without restraint. I'm walking danger, I can drink anything so long as it contains a certain percentage of alcohol and a promise of carefree bliss.

Oh, but I'm not doing this to get high tonight, I want to enjoy a nice evening out with my friends. I taste some more rosy wine in my mouth before returning the glass to its owner. "Thanks, it's delicious, but I'm good."

Robin gives me an approving smile, but Mira-Me gets up with a huff, her chair screeching on the floor. "Oh, you party pooper. I'm gonna go see if that waiter is as fun as he looks." With that, she leaves, long platinum hair waving behind her.

Lola yawns and stretches her arms. "You know what, guys? I'm gonna call it a day, too. It was nice to go out and all, but I'm beat, literally. And the wine makes my head spin."

Robin's brows furrow. "You didn't eat."

"I'm not hungry. I'm feeling a bit nauseous after what happened earlier. But I'll be better tomorrow." She gets up, leans down to peck him on the cheek, and waves a few fingers at me across the table with a smile. "Good night."

"Good night, hope you sleep well."

"You, too." She slips away between the tables, leaving Robin and me alone. This time, she didn't add, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do…"

We sit in odd silence for long minutes, looking around at anything and anyone but each other. Latino music fills the quiet between us. Laughter arises from a neighboring table. The dark of night settles in the narrow streets, along with a creeping chill.

I don't know how to make the first move. I don't even know what I want—a lover? How is that going to work if I'm employed by a rabid influencer bent on conquering the world of social media, while the man who now owns my heart is touring city after city doing street performances for a living? I grind my teeth, this situation is so difficult. What are the options? Not to engage in a relationship with him? Ugh, that would undermine my resolution to stay off the booze, I know it. To resume my life with a self-absorbed Mira-Me and not have anyone else to keep me up, will send me down the drain. I shoot him a tortured glance.

He meets my look and reaches across the table. "We're going to be okay." His dark-green gaze shines in the low light of the terrace.

I accept his warm hands and twine my fingers with his. "I'd like to believe it, but how?" My voice sounds plaintive, and I hate it.

"How long are you going to stay in Spain?"

"I don't know. For now, I have a one-year contract with Miss Celebrity, which ends in a month or so."

"Are you going back to the US after?"

I shrug. "Don't think so. Got nothing there holding me back."

"No family?"

"I have no siblings and pretty much no relationship with my parents."

"Why?"

"Oh, it's complicated." I let out a deep sigh. "We were an ordinary family until I went out with Kathryn, and my parents didn't like her for some reason. Maybe ‘cause she was outgoing and liked to have fun, while they'd hoped for a more serious daughter-in-law. I had to protect my marriage, so our relationship with them turned sour. My kiddo practically didn't know them."

Robin frowns. "That's sad."

"Then when he got sick, suddenly my mother sorta woke up and became my liaison to the rest of the world ‘cause I was too exhausted to do it myself. Except she spammed me with texts every day, pushing for information about his scan results and such when my angst level was already sky-high, so I ended up telling her to give me space. Which of course she didn't like, so she started back-talking me and my wife. Then when the kid died, she stopped talking to me altogether. It's like there was nothing left between us."

"I'm so sorry." Gaze blurry, he rises from his chair, leans over the table, and pecks my lips.

I close my eyes and savor the intimate gesture. He knows exactly what to do when I need it most. I return the sweet kiss and ask him, "What about you?"

He sits back on his chair and runs a hand over his face. "Me? I was adopted at birth. Went in and out of institutions ‘cause I was a ‘difficult child'. Was saved by the circus people, who became the family I'd never had. There's the story of my life in three sentences." He pauses, drawing a deep breath. "But my brothers and sisters are spread across the world now, so to answer your question, I have no one. Except Lola, who lives here, and I don't see myself leaving her anytime soon."

"You two have a strong bond."

"We're ‘twinsies,' like Mira-Me would say. But we're not lovers."

At that, we hold each other's looks. We are two orphaned, grown men who know what we have in our lives, what we risk losing, and how much we can gain from taking a chance.

His face breaks into a goofy clown smile. "C'mon, let's do something about it."