Fuck.
She gives me a small smile and nods to the empty seat next to her. I take a deep breath, making my way to where she’s sitting.
Fate better be on my side right now.
“Fancy seeing you here,” she muses, taking a small sip of her drink. She winces as the alcohol hits her tongue.
“Yeah. Uh, my van’s at the shop.”
“Again? What happened?”
“The back lights aren’t working. Patrick’s taking a look.”
“Ah, well, it shouldn’t take long. I don’t know why they sent you away.”
“I don’t think Merv wanted to keep me company today.”
Mikey snorts, then jolts and turns to the woman next her. “Sorry, how rude of me. Saint, this is Kelly. Kelly, this is Saint. He’s a customer.”
I offer my hand across the bar, and Kelly takes it, her brown eyes scanning me appreciatively.
“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“You as well, Saint. I’ve heard so much about you.” She smirks as Mikey groans.
So Mikey’s been talking about me?
Hell yes.
The bartender comes to take my order, and I ask for a strawberry lemonade since I’m driving later. Mikey takes another swallow of her drink and shudders, setting the glass on the bar.
“What are you drinking? And why are you drinking it if you don’t like it?” It’s probably none of my business, but curiosity about her overrules my common sense, it seems.
Mikey sighs, tipping her head back between her shoulder blades. “It’s silly, really.” I don’t want to pry, so I wait. She continues after a beat, the words tumbling out of her mouth, “My dad really liked bourbon. River’s Way Distillery’s Trail’s End blend specifically. It’s his birthday today, and since he’s not here to drink it, I have a glass for him. I think it tastes like lighter fluid, but this one,” she motions to Kelly, “insisted it would make us feel closer to him. So I push through it.”
My heart pinches in my chest. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, though I don’t know her full story. Another thread tying us together. Another thing making me even more certain she’s meant to be the great love of my life.
“I think if he were here, he’d tell you that you’re supposed to let the bourbon sit on your tongue a bit, maybe swirl it around your mouth before swallowing. It helps the burn.”
Kelly leans forward so she can see me. “I told her that, too, but she didn’t believe me. Big bourbon fan?”
I chuckle. “No, I don’t drink often. My friend Claire owns the bar in town, and she held a tasting class once.”
Mikey hums, taking another smaller sip of bourbon. I watch as she lets it sit on her tongue for a bit before her throat bobs in a swallow. “Yeah, no, that’s still fucking awful,” she sputters out.
Kelly pats her on the back, “Good on you for trying, though.”
I take a sip of my lemonade to hide my smile. Mikey’s got a dirty mouth. Maybe she’s not censoring herself as much since we’re not at the shop.
“For what it’s worth, I think it's sweet you’re honoring your dad by enjoying his drink of choice.”
“Thank you.” She sighs. “You’d think the loss would get easier, but five years later I still try to call him when I’m having a rough day or need help figuring out a tough problem at work. I just…” she trails off, shaking her head.
“I don’t know exactly how you feel, but I can relate. I still get the urge to call my mom and tell her about my day, share exciting news.”Like the day I met you.
Mikey reaches over and gives my forearm a gentle squeeze. The touch is so casual, it makes my head spin and goosebumps rise underneath my flannel. “I’m sorry you get it.”
A phone ringing breaks the silence passing between us, and Kelly groans before giving us an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Mikes. Duty calls. Call me later, okay? Love you big. Nice to meet you, Saint.”
