Jonah turned around and laughed. “That reminds me. I do actually have a six-pack for you. I got really lucky the other day. Beer and Spirits had it stashed in the wrong place, totally underpriced. But those superstore minimum-wage cashiers don’t know anything about anything, so I grabbed it. I’ll bring it by this weekend.”
“He’s off beer,” Ada announced from across the bar. “So he doesn’t want it.”
I held back a smile while Charlie floundered for something to say as Jonah began asking questions. It was one of many, many tests Charlie would face given his occupation—if he was serious about his sugar detox. And if this was any indication of his self-control, it wouldn’t be long before this was a well-intentioned but quickly forgotten whim. Like so many other things Charlie had attempted.
Not that I wanted Charlie to fail. I just couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to give up sugar completely. Least of all Charlie, the brother who literally indulged in every single temptation and desire. And if we were being honest—a sugar cleanse might help his focus, but it wouldn’t suddenly turn him into a rocket scientist. Or even a competent bartender.
Will walked onto the main floor before Jonah could get a serious answer out of Charlie. “I didn’t know you were stopping by today,” my eldest brother said by way of greeting his best friend.
Jonah shrugged. “I knew you were doing inventory today, so I thought I’d swing over and see if you needed anything before I put my orders in for the week.”
I gave him a funny look. That was usually done via an email between the two of us. Sure, sometimes he happened to stop by the bar, and we’d talk things through. And sometimes, he’d stop by with a list of new stuff he wanted us to try. But if it was just a simple refill, I texted or emailed.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Will said with a smile. “I was just about to text you.”
Jonah slid a sideways glance in my direction. “Lola must be back in Chicago. I never get texts anymore.”
Will’s smile wobbled. “That’s not true.”
There was a pregnant pause. I took the opportunity to fill it. “She is in Chicago. She stayed after Christmas to help her dad with another one of their franchises.”
Jonah snapped his fingers. “I knew it. I only see this guy when Lola is out of town now.” His voice took on the tone of a whiny toddler, but I didn’t think he’d noticed.
Poor Jonah. He and Will had been nearly inseparable since kindergarten. I could count the weekends on one hand that they hadn’t hung out at least once since then—well... before Lola. Growing up, Jonah was a staple at our house. Back then, it had felt like I had three brothers instead of two.
I shivered involuntarily. I tried not to ever think about Jonah like a brother. But for Will, their friendship was closer than even that. Some weird foundation of similar childhood trauma, personalities, and interests. They were each other’s longest and most trusted confidants. They were constant fixtures in each other’s lives. And until Lola, I was pretty sure they both intended to keep it that way forever.
Not that it would have been a healthy brotherhood as they rode out their single lives miserable and crotchety. They were just a decade or two from long afternoons of drinking cheap beers on the porch and yelling at the paperboys and dog-walking neighbors to get off their lawn. Lola saved Will from himself. She rescued him from an unhealthy relationship with the bar and willful isolation. They were both still workaholics... but somehow, they were workaholics together. So that made it okay. And also sweet.
“She travels a lot,” Will muttered, a pathetic explanation of his terrible loyalty to his best friend. “When she’s here... we just... get a little lost.”
I was so happy for my brother. And my new friend, Lola. I had never seen anyone make Will this happy, and I had a suspicion the same was true for Lola. He deserved this honeymoon happiness. This... wholeness in his soul he’d never had before. But the way he talked about her, the way his cheeks flushed red with simultaneous embarrassment and joy, the way he surreptitiously checked his phone as if he couldn’t help but make sure she hadn’t texted him in the last two minutes... stole my breath.
It whooshed out of me in a sharp sensation of loss and ache. Gosh, I wanted what he had. More than I’d realized until this moment.
A girl could only take so much of dating apps and casual drinks that led to nothing. Where were the men who took control? Who swept women off their feet like in the movies? Who were willing to make things last long enough to meet each other’s families and get involved in each other’s lives?
It wasn’t just that I seemed to have a type. Or that I was apparently bored of that type to the point of wanting to swear off men altogether. It was that nobody excited me. Nobody I’d met recently gave me butterflies. Or made me want to check my phone obsessively for missed text messages like Will did with Lola. Nobody even gave me lukewarm fuzzies.
And at this point, I was willing to settle for lukewarm fuzzies.
Or even ice-cold fuzzies. Any kind of fuzzies.
Fuzzies were my favorite part of getting to know someone.
“I get it, man. I mean, I don’t,” Jonah told Will. “But I’m happy for you.”
My lips curved into a smile, and I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of me. “You are such a liar, Jonah Mason.”
He hit me with the full force of his brooding smolder—the one that got him out of detention all junior year because the science teacher both hated and loved him. The same smolder that used to star in my high school fantasies. The same smolder that could still convince me to do anything he wanted. The dreamy bastard. “Are you trying to get me into trouble, Liza?” he demanded.
“Listen,” I said with a sigh, “we’re all happy for the lovebirds. But we can also be annoyed that their stupid happiness highlights how lonely the rest of us are.”
Something flashed across his face, sobering the lost puppy look and making him seem too alert, too focused. “Are you really lonely?”
It was the second time I had forgotten how to breathe in five minutes. Didn’t he know I was joking? And even if I wasn’t, why would he call me out like that in front of my brothers? I forced an overly bright laugh and tipped my head back as if he’d said something truly hilarious. “I’m just kidding, Mason. When did you get so serious?”
“Anyway,” Will cut in, “back to why I was going to text you. I heard about this estate sale that’s supposed to have some crazy-old and rare whiskey bottles. Like pre-World War I. The guy on that Facebook whiskey group claims there’s maybe one from before the Great Depression. I don’t know. I thought it would be cool to check out.”
