Epilogue
Tiff
Ididn’t sign the papers in the end.Not when I knew how much it meant to Sam to have something of his own.We were currently discussing opening a second bar, something we both had a stake in, and I was excited about that.Excited for all the possibilities of our future together.
We made a great team, something I delighted in reminding Sam at every given opportunity.He usually responded by sending me another five links discussing algorithms and analytics.I typically sent them back explaining in explicit detail what he would get if he read them and gave me the cliff notes instead.It worked about fifty percent of the time.The other half, he would bring me food (a proper meal, Tiffany) or a coffee with a promise of his own if and when I read them.I’d never had so much fun learning about statistics and growth ratios.
Outside of the channel, which was growing slowly, I’d started guest bartending at various bars around town, working with Audrey and Quinn to stage themed events which gave me the opportunity to craft unique one-off recipes.It had started small, but we were now consistently selling out, and I’d found my subscriber count rising as a result.
As for the channel, it probably helped that Wes, Liv, and Jackson had all volunteered to be taste testers on an episode series I had started, where I trialed new recipes on unsuspecting guests.Between sponsors, Patreon, and my bartending side gig, I was comfortable.
Above all else, I loved all the time I got with Sam.After a few weeks of commuting back and forth (and some persuasive arguments on my side), I moved into his apartment.Of course, he’d been very gracious about it, saying, “If that’s not something you want, if you don’t want to give up the freedom of your own space, I’ll respect that.”He then offered to move into my place instead.
Of course, I’d told him, “And make you trek across town every day for work?Sam, you’re the smartest person I know, but sometimes you’re a real dumbass.I want to be with you.Now, shut up and help me pack.”
Moving my things in hadn’t taken longer than a weekend (with some help), and I’d since turned the spare room in his apartment into a recording studio, and he would migrate downstairs to his office while I filmed or edited.
As for the bar, it was doing better than ever.Sam had expanded on my original idea and actually improved it (because, of course, he did).Using one of the recipes we’d created, he went to work with Audrey and one of her local suppliers to collaborate on “at-home cocktails,” which let people purchase online a pre-mix of cocktail ingredients and the steps to make it at home.He’d even gone as far as sending free packs to a handful of online creators, some of whom loved the idea so much, he barely had to do a thing to promote it—it was spreading like wildfire.
But the best part was that the profits finally paid the way for his renovations, and now Your Bar was the sexiest damn drinking spot in town.I was not biased in the least about this.
We co-existed very well with my work and his work, living in parallel, and always choosing each other.
Sam, for his part, was getting better at taking my suggestions (though I still hadn’t convinced him about the saffron).
Of course, some things didn’t change at all.
“Would you like a coffee?”
Sam’s voice carried through from the living room, and I paused the video I was editing to answer him.“Do you mean now or in five minutes when you remember you haven’t made them?”
I heard him chuckle from the other room.“Now.”
“Then, yes.”Stretching, I ignored the mewl of protest from Luna, who had staked her claim on my lap.My back ached from at least two hours of editing, and while I hated to evict Luna from her cozy perch, I needed a break.Besides, I could picture Sam out there, hair rumpled from running his hand through it, probably wearing those glasses that made me want to jump him.
Fuck, had it already been a few hours since I’d kissed him?That absolutely needed to be remedied ASAP.
But first, coffee.
Six minutes later, Sam was so engrossed in his reading that I was certain he hadn’t noticed the fact that I’d been standing in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew but mostly watching him.The late afternoon light streaked through the window, adding a warm honey glow to his skin, catching on the soft whiskers of his beard and the unkempt ends of his hair.
Everything about him, from his gray sweater to his bare feet, looked relaxed and inviting.Sometimes, like now, I would catch myself lost in the wonder of him, of how much I loved him, completely in awe of how fucking happy we were.
It wasn’t always easy, but it was always worth it.
Cup in hand, I finally made my way over to the couch, leaning over his shoulder to get a look at what had kept his attention all this time.“Actually, that study was disproven already.It’s only twenty-five percent.”
Sam startled at my presence.Fuck, he was adorable.“Huh?”He turned back to his screen, then did a double-take at the cup in my hands.“Shit, I’m sorry.I completely forgot.”
I smirked, “It’s ok.”After another sip, I reached forward, tapping the screen of his laptop.“And this is just flat out wrong.What are you even reading this for?”
“Research,” he replied, not taking his eyes off of me.I kept my eyes on the screen.“Did you make me a coffee?”
“Of course,” I said, offhand, enjoying a long, drawn-out pull.“I’m drinking it.”
When he reached for it, I considered moving it out of reach, but even I wasn’t that cruel.However, he surprised me, taking it and his laptop and placing both on the coffee table before him, then laying his glasses on top before turning back to me and pulling me down into a kiss, the momentum carrying me over the side and on top of him.One of my favorite places to be.
“That coffee is going to go cold.”
