As we approach the entrance of Blissful Brews, Hazel pulls to an abrupt stop. She stares at the windows on either side of the door, the shiny new glass decorated with hand painted beer steins and hops floating amid a sky of clouds. “They look nice,” she adds in a surprised tone. “Better than the old ones.”
“They do look nice,” I agree. My hand slides to her hip as I snug her closer to me. “Who did the painting?”
Hazel tears her gaze from the windows to look up at me. “Angel. She’s the one who did all the work inside, too. The mural, the decorations on the mirror…” She pauses. Her brows draw together. “Do you think Frank replaced the mirror behind the bar, too? I remember him saying it was really expensive, and that’s why he kept the old one for so long.”
I kiss her forehead. “We’ll have to go inside to see.”
Hazel takes a few halting steps before she stops again. Her voice is small and uncertain as she asks, “Are you sure about this, Alec? That it’s a good idea?”
“Sweetheart.” I turn her in my arms so we’re facing each other. “I do think it’s a good idea. And I know I’m pushing you a little on this. But if you’re really feeling bad about it, we’ll turn around and go home.” Stroking my thumb across her soft cheek, I add, “The last thing I want to do is upset you.”
Silence drags as I wait for her answer, second guessing myself more and more with each passing second.
Maybe I’m pushing too much.
Maybe I’m hurting more than helping.
Maybe—
“No.” Hazel lifts her chin and squares her shoulders. “We’re here. It would be silly to turn around and go home now.” A weak smile curves her lips. “Anyway. I’ve been wanting to try Frank’s new Thanksgiving porter. I missed the Halloween stout…”
“I’m sure he still has some of the stout if you want to try it.”
“He won’t,” Hazel replies. “Frank only serves hisSpooky Stout the week leading up to Halloween. He says it’s more special that way. And since Halloween was this past weekend—” She sighs. “Last year he closed the bar the day after Halloween, and we had a staff party that night. We polished off the stout and Frank made hundreds of wings and… it was really fun.”
Her wistful tone hurts my heart.
Hugging her close, I say, “There’s always next Halloween. And there’s still the Thanksgiving Taps and Turkeys party, plus all the Christmas celebrations. So there’s lots to look forward to.”
Hazel stares at me for a moment before nodding. “I know. I guess… I feel bad for letting Frank down. Halloween is one of his busiest times, and I wasn’t there to help.”
“You had other things going on.” Like being the target of three sick, murderous pieces of shit and trying her best to come to terms with it. “Frank understands. Trust me.”
Looping my arm around her waist, I start heading towards the entrance again, gently nudging Hazel along with me. As we get closer, a burst of laughter filters through the door, followed by the distinctive clack of pool balls hitting each other.
“How do you know?” Hazel asks. “That Frank understands?”
“Well.” My stomach knots. “I may have talked to him. That’s how I know.”
“You talked to him?” Confusion creases her brow before smoothing out. “Oh. About the man who broke in.”
Hand on the door handle, I pause before pushing it open. “Not about that.”
“Oh?”
“Actually…” I take a steadying breath. “I talked to him about tonight. About coming here.”
Before Hazel can respond, I open the door.
As we step through the doorway, all the heads in the bar swivel towards us.
The cheerful chatter comes to a stop.
Hazel scans the room, her eyes widening in surprise as she takes the scene in. Then she turns to me. “Alec? What is this?”
My gaze sweeps across all the people waiting inside.
All the people here to see Hazel.
