One Month Later
My thumb rubs back and forth over the soft skin of Briony’s hand, where she’s squeezing my finger.
“So, it turns out, I have a secret talent for swaddling.” I smile down at my daughter before looking up at August’s name. “Definitely not something I was expecting, but the last year has given me a lot of those moments.”
My eyes prickle for a second, sad that fatherhood wasn’t something I could share with my best friend, but I take a breath, and the disappointment recedes. Like fog lifting, I let the loss cloud my senses briefly until solace takes the forefront again. Grounding me in what I have to hold instead of what’s missing. Isabelle, our families, Tuck, Dylan, and my daughter, all work to pull me into the present, reminding me what good there is to feel. What more is still to come. But it’s up to me to see it, to welcome it and let it in.
“I think that’s all we have to catch you up on this week, buddy.”
Briony kicks her cotton-covered feet against my forearm, where they rest. Isabelle left for Smoke and Barrel a few hours ago. She’s doing the final touches of the opening party with Lex and Beth. She left the outfit for B to wear on the change table before she left. Foolish of me to think my wife would leave something simple to dress our daughter in. It’s a special occasion,after all, and apparently tonight’s little win is celebrated with long socks with frills around the tops, and a pink tulle dress that has buttons, a zip,anda bow. I’ll forgive my wife’s confidence in me to dress our one-month-old in this fancy contraption, simply because the puffy sleeves and the embroidered strawberries on her little outfit are so fucking cute. I squealed in a way that I’m glad no one else witnessed.
“Say goodbye to Uncle August, B.” I use the finger Briony’s still clutching to shake her hand back and forth, waving in the direction of August’s headstone. I hold her tighter to me as I get to my feet, brushing the grass and dirt from my black jeans.
I kiss my fingertips, then press them against the cool stone marker. “See you next week.”
Briony babbles to herself, content in my arms, as we make our way through the cemetery to my ute. I pull open the back door, sliding into the seat before maneuvering B into her car seat. My little angel always sits still when I tuck every limb into the five thousand straps, but she doesn’t make it quite as easy for Isabelle. I’m sure it’s because every time she fights, Isabelle just laughs and nuzzles her with calm patience until she gets her in. Briony eats up every time she hears her mum’s laugh, and I don’t blame her. It’s one of my favourite sounds, too.
We haven’t had any phone calls telling us we’re late, so I’m going to take that to mean we’re running on time to get to the party. I click the last belt fastener in place, then tug on each point, making sure they’re all secure. I step out of the car, glancing at my watch as I close the back door. 7.03 p.m. My eyes are pulled back to August’s resting place, just a few meters away from where we’re parked. The wind picks up around me, gentle and warm. I smile as I step toward my door, pulling on the handle, my brows pinching as I notice something bright yellow flickering against the windscreen. I reach forward, plucking the little flower from where it’s caught amongst the wiper blades. A buttercup. My head turns, trying to spot where there might be a bush plantednearby, but I can’t see any other spots of yellow around. I’m sure I would have noticed them any other time I’d been here recently. I twirl the bud between my fingers. The night of the accident, when I saw August, he said they needed me. I initially thought he meant my family, his mum and sister. But so many moments with Isabelle have felt too good to be true. Orchestrated by the angels, almost. Or one angel in particular. The subtle signs of the number three, guiding me on a path I’m meant to follow.
It all started with seeing that article about the old theatre being knocked down. Two businesses had tried to repurpose it, but nothing took off. The High Rollers were ready to ditch it in favour of more parking until I swooped in with Smoke and Barrel. Maybe it was Caleb’s reputation in the business world. Maybe it was Beth’s creative vision for a bar that looked cool enough to persuade the four casino owners into thinking this was what would finally work with their venue. Or maybe it was life deciding I had lost enough. It was time to find something good. It all started with meeting Isabelle.
Twenty-seven minutes later, I’m pulling into the car park for Smoke and Barrel, driving straight into my reserved spot next to where Isabelle’s yellow Volkswagen is parked. I wish she’d let me buy her something new, but she loves the damn thing.
I sling the baby bag over one shoulder with Briony tucked into my other arm. People are already making their way inside. Influencers, high-profile business associates. I spot James Huxley standing across the car park, with his usual companions—Jackson, Romeo, and Ace. There’s another guy with them that I don’t recognise. He looks frustrated, face stern, only appearing to calm down when Jackson rests a hand on his shoulder. Looks like something I don’t need to get involved with, or care about. Besides, my wife is waiting for me.
I grab the door just before it closes and search the room. Connors Construction managed to get the project done in ten months. Beth overseeing the interior fitout certainly helped, butthe owner, Lee, and his main guy, Westley, worked hard. Looking around the room, they damn near worked a miracle.
The space is dark and moody with a mix of brown leather sofas and deep green velvet armchairs. The original dark wood flooring has been sanded and repolished with a matte sheen, and the area right in front of the service bar is tiled with an intricate pattern of bottle green and rustic gold. Private booths are scattered around the floor on a raised platform, and heavy drapes line two sides in an effort to muffle some of the music and crowd chatter.
I spot Dylan, Lex, and Caleb standing by the bar. Lex is tickling baby Jed’s feet, and he smiles up at his aunt. Caleb looks over Lex’s shoulder, an arm wrapped around her middle. Dylan looks tired, such is the life of a new parent, and a single one at that, I’d imagine, but he still looks happier than ever.
My eyes scour the room, trying to find Isabelle, brows furrowing when I see her standingbehindthe bar. I cross the room, nodding and shaking hands with various people as I pass, accepting their congratulations for the opening.
“Let me help you, brother.” Mason cuts in front of me, hands outstretched for my daughter.
“I don’t need help. I’ve got her,” I say, transferring Briony into my brother’s eager arms anyway.
“No, no! You’re busy. Far too many people here to schmooze. I’ll be on BB duty.” Mason starts cooing and babbling to my daughter.
My days are filled with Isabelle and Briony. Izzy’s enjoying her maternity leave, and I’ve let the staff I pay to manage my bars actually do their jobs. I still work Saturday nights at The Wayside, and I’ll sneak into the office for a few hours of admin after my girls have gone to sleep, but for the most part, I’ve let myself slow down and enjoy my family.
“How are youhealing?” I ask Mason.
He looks up at me, confused, so I look pointedly down, then raise my eyebrows, waiting. Even in the dim lighting, I can see Mason’s cheeks turn pink as he clears his throat.
“It’s been five months, almost time to test out the goods with someone other than myself.” I thought I was doing a good thing by asking, but maybe I’ll regret this conversation after all. “It had better be fucking worth it.” Mason scowls.
“Once again, I never told you to get it.”
“Get what?” Beth asks as she joins us, fussing over Briony much the same as Mason did.
“His new sexcessory.”
Beth looks up at me with downturned lips and a look of pure revulsion.
“I’ll let you off the hook for putting that image in my head purely because you gave me such a wonderful new sister and a niece.”
“Well, thank fuck for that. I don’t know how I’d sleep at night if not for your forgiveness in answering a question you asked,” I say.
