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“I think he’s cleaning in the back, but it’s just me out front, hen.”

I liked that Eilidh called her hen. I wondered how often she’d had a pet name.

Lou jumped in. “I can help if you need it. My new place is within walking distance.”

Eilidh rubbed a hand on my jaw and smacked me lightly.

“Liam already offered to cover my poker night, so we’re good. But I’ll put you on the schedule whenever you want.” She raked her fingers through Louisa’s hair from behind and pulled it into a ponytail before dropping it again. “You did something different with your hair. Wasn’t it blue?”

“Purple,” she said.

Lavender.

Christian looked like his head was going to explode. I knew he’d flip out when he discovered Louisa was Isa the bartender. I’d told him all about Isa after my dad’s funeral, and he’d given me shit for how much I read into a handful of candy.

But he wasn’t there in that hallway: this hot leprechaun giving me a pass when I blurted out the thing I’d still never told anyone else. He’d watched me stare at her all night, but he never felt that thing between us that I felt with only a few sentences exchanged. I’d been drunk and embarrassed and it all just melted away like the candy in my mouth when she smiled at me, trying not to laugh. Letting me off the hook, but hooking me all the same.

Brows drawn and looking like the father he was about to become, Ortiz jumped right into the shit he wanted answers about as soon as Louisa sat down at the table with Marisol and the guys. As kind and loving as he was, Christian was fucking surgical when he called someone out.

“How long have you known, man?” He was trying to get me to meet his eyes when Eilidh passed behind us.

Well, that depends on what yer askin’, lad. Known her name? Known she meant something to ye? Known ye love her?

How long have I known her name? That shouldn’t be complicated. Somehow it is.

Two years in March.

Two and a half months ago.

Four weeks.

I’ve always known she meant something to me. But love her?

I rubbed the back of my neck, and Christian leaned back against the bar, waiting.

Louisa believed we could fall in love in different ways, at different times, with different people. Maybe that was true, and I just kept falling into different versions of the same woman by luck or circumstance.

I met her in pieces.

Isa’s skin on my skin—the kind of electricity that rewires you.

And Lou, slow and laughing, pushing every button from a distance.

Then La Rosa de Bayahibe, all fire and brilliance, lit me up with admiration, respect—with awe.

I pushed around a napkin coaster in front of me, rolling a corner under my fingertips. My eyes flicked to her.

Every expression of Louisa carried the shadows of the others. Every way I knew her, she was a woman worth chasing.

And taken together—Christ. The combination was devastating.

“Hawkins, I’m not playin’. You were going on about ‘The Bartender’ for months.” I visibly grimaced at the volume of his voice. “I didn’t even recognize her with the different hair,” he said.

Eilidh pushed another beer my way, looking between Christian and me. I gave her a wan smile and sipped it gratefully.

“She was also wearing costume glasses, working behind the bar, and it was one drunken night, almost two years ago. I didn’t even introduce you guys, so don’t feel bad.” I tipped my glass to Christian.

He tapped the bar top, emphasizing each word, “When. Did. You. Know?”