“He does.” I turn to find Ezra sliding onto a stool. I hadn’t even noticed his mess of paperwork and a laptop on the counter when I first came in. “But don’t make me regret it too.”
There’s no playfulness behind his words. Even when Noah’s glaring at me, I still know he’s never truly being mean or serious.
But with Ezra? I can’t read the guy at all, and believe me, I’ve tried. If I thought Noah was grumpy, boy, was I wrong. His business partner has him beat by a mile.
“Roger that,” I tell him seriously, suddenly feeling nervous that this will not turn out as I hope it will.
Izzy grabs my arm and shakes me hard. “I’m ...gah! I’msoexcited! What are your plans? Tell me everything!”
Her excitement is palpable, washing my nerves away as we slip off our stools and walk around the taproom.
“I think we’ll start here,” I say, pointing to the two cozy couches facing each other. There’s a coffee table between them, the bottom shelf lined with various board and card games. “We’ll need to clear this area to allow room for mingling during the cocktail hour while you and Craig get your photos done.”
“You’re not moving anything,” Noah reminds me.
I ignore him, then gesture to the two high-backed pleather chairs surrounding the fireplace and the small table between them. “Those will need to go too.”
“Did you hear me? You’re not moving a damn thing.”
I wave my hand over the hockey memorabilia lining the walls. “And personally, I think this will need to go, but if you want to keep it, we can work around it with some dark lighting.”
“Odie!” Noah snaps his towel against the bar, then rounds it, practically stomping over to where we are.
“Yes, Noah?” I ask innocently as Izzy barely holds it together beside me.
“I said you aren’t moving anything. We have this place just the way we like it. If you want something different, then go somewhere different. I—”
“We can make those changes,” Ezra says, drawing our collective attention. His back is to the bar now, his bulky arms crossed over his chest as he watches us with emotionless eyes.
“What?!” Noah barks out.
Ezra shrugs. “I can see their points. Besides, if we make this part of our business model going forward, we want to show how accommodating we are, no?”
“Business model ... going forward ...hmph.” Noah grumbles between each word, annoyed that he’s being ganged up on. He looks at his sister. “Is this what you want, Iz?”
She nods. “It’s what I want. Well, minus removing the hockey stuff on the walls. I like that part.”
“You do?” I ask. I wrinkle my nose as I take it in. If this were my wedding, I wouldn’t want that stuff in the photos. But that’s not something I’ll ever need to worry about.
“Yes. Hockey was as much a part of my life growing up as it was his. Remember when my mother used to take us on a girls’ trip to see him play in Anaheim? He would always throw the pucks over the glass for us? Make sure we were spoiled with good seats? Those are some of my favorite memories, and I want to combine those with the best day of my life.”
I remember what she’s talking about, but I remember them for far different reasons.
Back then I was captivated by Noah. I distinctly remember sixteen-year-old me pressing my nose against the glass and practically salivating over twenty-eight-year-old Noah. His broad shoulders and brown eyes that are far too pretty for their own good. The scruff lining his face was not yet thick enough to cover his dimples. I thought for sure he’d be the man I married one day.
But thanks to Izzy, I got over the fantasy of marrying a professional hockey player and stopped crushing on my best friend’s older brother.
I still remember the look of absolute horror on her face when I told her I had a crush on Noah. We were eighteen and just about to graduate from high school, so we snuck wine coolers from her mother’s stash down to the harbor to celebrate. I apparently got a little too tipsy, because I was suddenly spilling my secrets, including my biggest one about her brother.
She wrinkled her nose and said, “Ew. Please. Stop. Never say that to me again.”
So I didn’t. We never uttered another word on the subject, but I heard her loud and clear—Noah was off-limits, and it was never going to happen with him.
She was right. It neverisgoing to happen.
Yes, it’s true that he’s gotten only better looking with age, but I don’t have those feelings toward Noah anymore. I can’t have feelings foranyoneanymore. I refuse to subject myself to the same heartbreak my maternal family has experienced so many times over—the Chambers curse.
I had hoped that I wouldn’t be affected by it, that maybe it would skip a generation, or that my nonna was wrong. But I was wrong, and my heartbreak from my college boyfriend proved it. I just wish I had known that wouldn’t be the only heartbreak I’d endure from the curse, and that my future wasn’t on the line because of it either.
