Vows Before Love

Aria’s POV “You’re exactly two minutes late, Aria.” Jake didn't even look up from the cocktail shaker he was vigorously rattling as I burst through the employee entrance of the Luna Azul Lounge. He was a blur of practiced motion, his forearms flexing as he mixed a drink for a customer waiting out front. The heavy blue neon light from the Lisbon streets bled through the massive glass windows, competing with the thumping bass of the early evening crowd. It was only 6:00 PM, but the lounge was already humming with energy, smelling of expensive cologne, citrus twists, and high-end alcohol. “Two minutes, Jake? Seriously? Give a girl a break,” I gasped, tossing my worn canvas bag onto the breakroom counter. My chest was still heaving from the sprint. I quickly grabbed my black apron from my locker and tied it tightly around my waist, double-knotting it out of habit. “I had to literally run six blocks from the subway station because the train was delayed on the tracks for twenty minutes. Cut a financially struggling twenty-three-year-old some slack.” “Two minutes today, five tomorrow. Before you know it, you’ll be arriving after closing time,” Jake said, finally stopping his shaking to place a dramatic, ring-clad hand over his chest. He sighed like a disappointed drama teacher, but his sharp eyes instantly softened when he looked at my flushed face. Without another word, he slid a small, steaming porcelain mug toward me. “Drink this. You look like you’ve been chased by a horde of ghosts.” I grabbed the espresso, letting the intense heat bleed into my fingers, which were still freezing from the chilly evening air outside. The rich, bitter scent filled my senses, grounding me instantly. “Worse than ghosts. I had to stop by my father’s house to see Pearl.” Jake’s expression soured instantly. The playful smirk vanished from his face, replaced by a tight, protective frown. He knew my family history all too well; he had been the one holding my hand through the worst of it. Ever since my mother passed away and my father remarried, I had basically become an unwanted ghost in my own childhood home—a painful, living reminder of a past life my father desperately wanted to forget and erase. “Did Mary give you hell again?” Jake asked gently, picking up a clean white cloth and beginning to wipe down the already spotless, polished mahogany bar counter. “The usual passive-aggressive treatment,” I sighed, staring down into the dark liquid of my coffee. The familiar, dull ache tightened in my chest just thinking about it. “She hung up on me this morning when I called just to hear Pearl’s voice, claiming she was asleep when I could literally hear her playing in the background. Then, when I actually dropped by this afternoon, she gave me the absolute ice-queen treatment on the porch. I barely got to see my little sister for an hour before Mary dragged her away, claiming it was bath time. I didn’t even see my father. He didn't bother coming downstairs. Not that he cared to anyway.” “Mary is a venomous, insecure troll, and your father is completely blind for missing out on the best thing he ever co-created,” Jake said fiercely, leaning across the bar counter to squeeze my hand tightly. His grip was warm and reassuring. “But hey, look at the bright side of this miserable day. You have me. And more importantly... did you remember to bring my shirt?” I rolled my eyes, a genuine laugh bubbling past my lips as the heavy weight in my chest lifted just a fraction. Leave it to Jake to break my tragic family mood with fashion. I reached into my bag and pulled out the neatly folded, dark fabric. “The black one with the little white stripes. Yes, I brought it. I kept my promise.” “My absolute hero!” He snatched the shirt and hugged it dramatically to his chest as if it were made of pure gold. “I would have gone back to my apartment to change, but bills don’t pay themselves. If I don’t pull this grueling double shift tonight, my landlord is going to legally evict me and throw my entire wardrobe into the Atlantic Ocean.” “Tell me about it,” I muttered, pulling my long hair back into a tight, high ponytail to keep it out of my face for the rest of the night. “My grocery run this afternoon was pathetic. It consisted of a carton of milk, a loaf of bread, and a massive supply of instant noodles. The universal survival kit for the broke and desperate. If I don't make some serious, heavy tips from the VIP section tonight, I’m going to be eating flavored cardboard by Tuesday.” “Well, put on your best, most blinding smile, love, because table four in the VIP lounge just ordered a bottle of our most ridiculously expensive vintage champagne,” Jake whispered, leaning in closer and winking at me as he gestured with his chin toward the velvet-curtained section of the club. “Go get that rent money, Aria.” I took a deep, steadying breath, smoothing down the front of my black apron. I consciously forced the exhaustion and worry from my face, plastering on the bubbly, polite, and completely fake mask of a perfect waitress—the mask I wore every single night to survive. Another night. Another grueling shift. Another endless cycle of trying to keep my head above water in a city that felt entirely too expensive for a girl who had absolutely nothing left to her name. I checked my reflection quickly in the polished glass behind the bar, making sure my eyes didn't look as tired as I felt. I grabbed the heavy silver serving tray, carefully loading the crystal flutes and the sweating silver ice bucket containing the champagne. The bottles in the VIP lounge cost more than my monthly rent, a harsh reality that always tasted a bit bitter. As I lifted the tray and balanced it on my shoulder, I truly thought it was just going to be another ordinary, exhausting night of serving wealthy tourists, cleaning up spilled drinks, and dodging the occasional cheesy, unwanted pickup line from businessmen with too much money. I had my entire life meticulously planned out in terms of mere survival—balancing shifts, counting tips, and scraping by for rent. Neither Jake nor I had any idea that before this very shift was over, a single moment with a single customer was going to shatter my quiet, struggling world entirely. And my life would never, ever be the same again.