Celeste looked from Dario to Rocco. “Do you believe her?”
“What, that she got a black eye?” Dario asked.
“No, you idiot, that it was no big deal.”
“Okay, but don’t call me an idiot.”
Celeste reached over and placed her hand on Dario’s cheek. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean it.”
All Rocco could think watching them was that it was probably well past the time they should be going home. He glanced over in the direction of the bar.
“She must be telling the truth, right?” Celeste asked. “About it being nothing, just a silly accident. That kind of thing can happen, right?”
When Dario didn’t respond, Celeste looked over at him.
“Rocco? What do you think?”
He didn’t know what to think. “She sounded convincing. I mean, it didn’t seem to bother her. She didn’t have to drink. And if it was something bad, she wouldn’t have. No one expected her to. So, given she did, that must mean it was no big deal.”
Lowering her shoulders, Celeste drew in a deep breath and let it out as one long sigh. “You’re right.”
He was glad he’d put Celeste at ease. He just wished he’d been able to do the same for himself.
He glanced back at the bar. He also wished he’d stopped Nico from buying another round. They should call it a night. He had an uncomfortable feeling in his gut that as much as he’d enjoyed the evening, it was about to turn sour.
He was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol, and he could see Dario was too. Not to mention Celeste. She’d begun to slur her words and giggle uncontrollably every time she hiccupped. Nico had to be feeling the effects too. She was hardly much bigger than Celeste. But if she was, she did a damn good job of not letting it show.
“I think we should call it a night,” he said when Nico returned with the drinks.
“But I just bought another round,” she said.
She sounded angry.
He looked at her. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
“Me? What about you?”
He shrugged. “I’m fine.”
“Well, then why do you want to leave?” She stared hard at him and spoke before he had a chance to answer. “Oh, I know why.”
He frowned. “What?”
She shrugged. “Never mind.”
“No. Why?”
“You want to stop because you don’t like what you heard—I mean, said.”
What in the hell was she getting at?
“You know,” she said, making another attempt, “maybe you didn’t like some of the things that were revealed—about you.”
“Why would that be the case? If anything might put me off, it would be—”
“What?” she asked. “It would be what?”
Even as black as her eyes were, he could tell by looking at them, she was seeing red.
