I liked to think Ada loved the bar as much as she loved Charlie, and that was why she never left us. But lately... it wasn’t that I thought her feelings for the bar or Charlie had changed, however a girl could only take so much. I guess I worried that she would leave usbecauseshe loved both the bar and Charlie too much.
Besides her non-relationship drama, our sibling in-fighting was the hardest on her out of everyone. Will, Charlie, and I had grown up this way and honestly didn’t know a different style of communication. Ada had a much younger sister whom she adored, so she didn’t quite get the whole process of shouting every hateful word in the English language at a sibling, only to be over it entirely a few minutes later. Over the tumultuous years, she’d staged boycotts and walkouts regularly. And then eventually cooled off, calmed down, and came back.
I was praying this was just another one of her enraged—and justified--statements. Charlie had put her through hell, and she needed a minute to get over it. Only time would tell.
In all fairness, I’d spent the whole of Friday night ignoring her calls and texts too, so I probably deserved this. But it was much harder to be the one being ignored than it was to be the one doing the ignoring.
Especially when the ignoring had been unintentional. Then there was Jonah. Thankfully, the day had been so busy I hadn’t been able to hyper-obsess too much. I tried to pretend I wasn’t looking for him every time the door opened, but that was a lie. I was equal parts disappointed and relieved every time someone walked into the bar, and it wasn’t him.
He’d texted shortly after I abandoned Will’s apartment, asking where I’d gone. And then he’d offered to bring my things by the bar so I had them. But I’d been too much of a coward to deal with the exchange in front of Will and Lola, so I’d told him not to worry about it and then fibbed about a massive stress headache being the reason I needed to escape Will’s.
But then there I was, my head bobbing around like a turkey, hoping he’d read through my fear-induced bullshit and show up anyway. Ugh, why was I like this? I didn’t have any right to tell him one thing and then hope he’d do the exact opposite.
Now I was in a weird funk of my own making, desperately needing my favorite pillow, and too afraid to text Jonah and tell him what I wanted.
So I texted Claire instead. I poured out my heart to her and tried to believe her when she promised I hadn’t messed things up irrevocably.
Our text session was just wrapping up as I lay wallowing in self-pity and exhaustion, stretched out on my couch watching my favorite show. Or at least what I defaulted to the most: scrolling every streaming service I paid for in hopes that the perfect show to fit my mood would pop up and I’d finally find the one thing I couldn’t wait to binge until I passed out. I decided that I should probably squeeze some work in.
My laptop was in the other room, though, so I opted for the easiest possible solution—the kind I could do without moving. I picked up my nearly dead phone and posted a stunning pic of our most recent seasonal cocktail—our Orange Flower Honey Hot Toddy. It was my favorite thing this winter, and I made it for myself whenever I had the chance. Plus, Will and Miles had taken my bourbon brand suggestion, so I felt a little extra ownership of it. Then I replied to a few job applications for the kitchen—I’d posted it yesterday while at work and already had several replies—and set up interview times. I’d talked to our accountant, and he said we had room for another full-time employee for the kitchen and a couple more part-time employees as well.
This was excellent news since Case wasn’t the only one who needed help. If I didn’t find more servers for Ada, she might decide to ignore me for the rest of forever and ever amen. And with the recent boom in our kitchen fame, we needed a busser and a dishwasher.
The sheer amount of potential payroll needs made me sweaty, but I was determined to view these problems as good things. And I would deal with them one at a time. First, another cook for Case. Then we’d tackle the rest of the roster.
I spent time replying to some comments on posts and in our messages, posted a video to stories that I’d been saving for a couple weeks, and finally tackled the bad reviews that had Will so up in arms.
First of all, there were only two bad reviews. This was obviously not great, but I had assumed that there were at least five to ten based on Will’s overreaction. So facing two pissed-off customers ended up being a relief.
I could handle two bad reviews.
Craft could handle two bad reviews.
Still, I thought about how happy it would make Will if I could turn these two bad experiences around.
He’d be ecstatic.
Which, despite everything, was what I wanted.
So I offered them gift cards and a renewed experience. Afterward, I set my phone down and let out a deep breath. A nap might be in order. The past twenty-four hours had been absolutely crazy. Taking charge of staff interviews, suggesting Charlie bartend, cockblocking Logan,the kissing—oh the kissing—the wake-up call about Charlie... Our accountant had been the easiest part of the weekend, even though I’d been dreading speaking to him the most. He’d gone over the numbers we’d discussed on the phone and had then written a lengthy email reply. Thankfully, he never abandoned his email. Not even on weekends. I felt like I’d gone from rock star to badass bitch to sexy siren to deranged sister barely holding it together in a very short amount of time.And survived.So yeah, I deserved a nap.
Just as I’d closed my eyes and found the perfect position, a knock on my door jolted me awake. I was asleep enough that, for a second, I thought I’d dreamed it. But there it was again... pounding away.
Argh.
Now I faced the dilemma of pretending I never heard it, lying as still as a corpse until I was certain they’d walked away, or answering it.
They knocked again. I prayed it wasn’t my neighbors. Other than a friendly smile in the hallway or at the mailbox, I tried not to talk to them. I didn’t have anything against them personally... I just wasn’t ready to make friends in the same place I lived. I preferred to maintain my emotional distance so I wasn’t afraid to call the super on them if they behaved badly.
But it wasn’t my neighbors.
Through the door, a muffled voice called out, “Eliza, it’s me.”
Only a certain number of people could get away with the whole “it’s me” bit. And one of them had just had surgery to remove his appendix. Which meant Will was out since he had to tend to the patient.
That left one single, remaining person... Jonah. Was I excited to see him? I didn’t know. Was I dreading talking to him again face-to-face? Also unsure.
“Eliza’s not home,” I heard myself holler, still undecided what to do. Also still unmoving from the couch.
