I sat down at the bar and ordered the drinks, glancing across the bar as she worked her way into the circle and straight to Val. The bartender placed the two drinks in front of me and I waited five minutes before I pulled the little paper umbrella from the glass and lifted the straw to my lips.
I averted my eyes back to the other end of the bar and noticed Maryann and Val had disappeared from the crowd.
“Those things are lethal,” a voice said from behind me, forcing me to spin around on the bar stool and stare at the most handsome man I ever laid eyes on.
The first thing I noticed was his clothes. He wasn’t dressed like the other men. His charcoal gray suit looked as if it was tailor made for him. He opted to wear a black turtleneck under the suit, no button down, collar popping shirt for the handsome stranger before me. He did however engage in the fad of gold chains. My eyes zeroed in on the crucifix dangling from the thick, gold rope chain hanging around his neck. I lifted my eyes to his face and was greeted by a smile I’d never forget.
His eyes drifted toward the two drinks that sat in front of me to the empty stool beside me.
“May I?”
“Sure,” I said, twirling back around to face the bar as he slipped onto the stool and signaled for the bartender.
He ordered a Martini, dry with extra olives as I toyed with the paper umbrella and brought my drink to my lips for another sip. The song changed, Tavares filtered the nightclub with their hit, ‘More Than a Woman’.
“What’s your name, beautiful?” He asked, casually draping an arm over the back of my stool.
“Grace,” I said, mesmerized by the way he stared so intently at me.
“Grace,” he repeated, testing the name on his tongue, grinning once he decided he liked the way it sounded.
“And who are you?” I stammered, taking another sip, hoping to calm my nerves. This man had the power to undo me with a simple glance.
“Me? I’m the man who’s going to marry you one day,” he said pointedly.
I nearly spat my drink out.
“That’s pretty presumptuous don’t you think?” Or cocky depending on who you ask, I added silently.
He grinned at me as he lifted his hand and ran his index finger down my cheek.
“Watch and see, Gracie,” he promised, dropping his hand but keeping his gaze locked on me. “The name is Victor, Victor Pastore.”
It is so easy to forget those first blissful moments when you meet the person you’re meant to spend the rest of your life with. Instead, we harbor the resentment life has brought upon us and lose touch of the magic that brought two unsuspecting strangers together.
Sitting across from the man I love for the final time I wonder how I ever let myself become so jaded by the trials and tribulations we stumbled upon in our years together. Why did I let the heartache trump the happiness? Why couldn’t I hang on to all the times he made me smile, all the times I looked into his eyes and knew I was his one and only. Why wasn’t the love we created enough to outweigh the torment of the mob?
I foolishly thought we had years to figure it out, to mend the broken parts of our love. I never expected thirty years to go by in a flash. I never expected a judge to slam down the gavel and sentence him to life in prison. I never expected for him to become fatally ill. I never expected to be sitting here wishing for more time.
I glance down at his hands and my heart breaks at the comparison. His hands are twice the size of mine just as they were thirty years ago but instead of his olive skin matching mine, there is a stark contrast. His skin pales compared to mine.
“I dreamt of you last night,” he breathes. I peel my eyes away from our hands and lift them to his. “I always dream of you but last night was one of my favorites,” he struggles, breathing heavily. “Give me a moment,” he requests.
“You don’t have to speak,” I tell him.
“But I do,” he argues. “It’s now or never, Gracie.”
I nod sadly, glancing down at our hands again, watching as his thumb draws circles over my palm.
“It was the grand opening of my first night club,” he starts, smiling nostalgically.
“Eternity,” I recall. I teased him mercilessly over the name he chose for his first venture as a night club owner. Victor knew the scene, appreciated it and at the time figured it was a great way to hide the illegal money coming in.
“You remember,” he says.
I laugh slightly.
“How could I forget? I was eight months pregnant with Adrianna,” I reply. We argued that night, I didn’t want to go, figuring I looked ridiculous sitting in a night club with a glass of seltzer and a big belly, but Victor insisted I be there.
There is no one I want by my side but you. This is our night, Gracie.
“You were the most beautiful woman in the whole place,” he whispers. “I made Jimmy stand by the bar with you all night in case you went into labor.”