Michelle sat at a bar on Bourbon Street, thinking that was exactly how she’d brought about the destruction of her relationship with Remi. She’d been drowning her sorrows over him that night, too.

Why didn’t I burn those clothes like Marcel told me to do? Remi might not have ever been affected by that damn Thirst, and we’d still be together. How could I have forgotten about that bag? God! It hurts so bad! And right after he admitted he loved me! I’m being ripped apart!

Paulette sat on the stool next to her, and after waving the bartender over, she ordered them another round, as a tear slipped down Michelle’s cheek. She swiped it away.

It had been almost a week since he dumped her, and no matter what Paulette said about the Thirst being at fault, Michelle felt like she’d been thrown out with yesterday’s garbage. A happy ending had been as hopeless as she’d always known in her heart. And her suffering was exactly as she had expected, as well.

“Do you regret it, Michelle? Being with Remi?”

“No, I don’t. I just wish things had turned out differently.”

“Me, too.”

The bartender brought the drinks over and set them down in front of them.

Paulette raised hers and said, “To new beginnings. May they be filled with wonder and joy.”

“Yeah.”

Silence fell between them, and Michelle resisted the urge to look at her phone for the hundredth time since they sat down.

“The tournament is in a few nights.”

“I won’t be there,” Michelle said, descending into fitful tears.

“Oh, why did I say that? I’m so sorry!”

“It’s o-o-okay.”

“How about I take that night off, and we hang out? Just you and me! We can watch movies and drink wine.”

“Luc needs you there, Paulette. You’re the dealer.”

“He’ll understand, and we can find someone to replace me. Oui. That’s what we’ll do. It’s settled.”

“Hey, Jacque!” yelled a man coming through the door. “Kitchen still open?”

“All night long!” The bartender tossed his dishtowel onto his shoulder and then waved him over. “What can I get ya, man?”

“I’m craving some....” Then Michelle felt heat at her back and swiveled in her seat. A drop-dead gorgeous guy in a black business suit, built like a linebacker, was staring down at her. “Why you cryin’, chér?”

“Please don’t call me that!” she whispered, trying to regain control and not embarrass herself any more than she already had.

“Okay. Well, what’s your name?”

“Michelle.”

He snorted as if that was what he was expecting her to say, and then he muttered under his breath, “It was the Legend.”

“Pardon?”

“Never mind. I’m Ethan.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Now that that’s outta the way, what’s got you so upset?”

“My boyfriend broke up with me.”

“Good.”

“What?”

“You might be crying over him now, but you’ll be happy in the end.”

“Why?”

“’Cause, baby...” Ethan winked and sat down beside her. “...you’re gonna be mine. That’s a promise.” He laughed at her shocked expression and shouted, “Jacque! We’re having tequila shots. Line ‘em up, man! Three!” He rapped the bar with his knuckles. “Right here! Me, my girl, and her friend!”

Ethan reached across her and gave a smiling nod to Paulette, while Michelle absently twirled a swizzle stick on the counter. With her head in her hand, propped up on her elbow, she wondered about the man in the next seat whose eyes had gone yellow for a second, signaling that he was a shifter. He hadn’t been the first guy, human or supe, who’d shown interest in her since she and Paulette had started going out together. And like the others, she planned on letting him buy her a drink and then getting rid of him.

“That was quick,” Paulette said, raising her glass.

“Huh?” she asked, sitting back up.

“Nothing.” She took a sip and set her drink down. “But I’ll tell you this, Michelle. You’re safe with him. I swear it.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Michelle shrugged, as the bartender set the shots in front of them.

Ethan nudged her, yelling, “Bottom’s up! Laissez les bon temps rouler!”

Michelle had been living in abject misery since Remi left her for Sophie. She figured a couple of shots might bring a smile to her face... or make her forget long enough to stop her tears from pouring for a bit.

As the minutes passed, Ethan’s happiness infected her, and she gave herself over to it, if only for one night.

Later, tipsy and laughing at him, Michelle noticed that Paulette had slipped away without saying goodbye. She’d never left Michelle by herself before when they’d gone out together. And though she sensed the absence of the woman she considered her sister, the pain in her heart wasn’t as overwhelming, and she didn’t feel as alone.

Despite the short time since they met, Michelle was growing more strongly attracted to Ethan as if perhaps fate had a plan for her, too.

“Another?” he asked.

He planted a quick kiss on her lips, leaving his hand on her waist when they separated, as he signaled for Jacque to bring another round—two that time.

“Why not?”

The band came back from their break, took the small stage, and started up again. Ethan stood, grabbed Michelle’s hand, and pulled her flush to him. He had removed his jacket, shirt, and tie hours earlier. His skin was damp, and his ribbed undershirt clung to his chest, as the air carried his scent.

“Ooowee! Bébé! You hear dat?” The alcohol had made his accent come out stronger, and he sounded like a true deep woods Cajun. The drums hit a beat, and he dropped his hand from her, to bend low, snapping his fingers, stepping forward and back, and then spinning in a circle. “Dat’s de Zydeco Bounce! You know it?”

She nodded, grinning, as she felt something bubbling up within her close to joy.

“Let’s go!”

The hours passed, and as the sun began to rise in the distance, and the rest of the patrons departed, Michelle stepped closer to Ethan on the parquet. He settled his hands on the flare of her hips and placed a kiss on her forehead, as they swayed to the slower songs, moving as one.