The last thing that Savannah needed was another bar. But, after a wild, drunken trip in and out of small pubs in tiny, Irish towns, we knew what it did need.?
“So, pub actually stands for Public House? That sounds… weird. I guess I don’t understand what you mean,” my brother said, staring at me from across his studio with bloodshot eyes.?
“What’s your issue? I’m the one with jet lag,” I laughed, opening the pizza I’d grabbed from Vinnie’s on my way over.?
“Tally’s like, really, really pregnant. And a little bit needy.” He smiled, looking down at his feet quietly.?
My head snapped back, letting out a howl. “So, is this, like, a thing now?”?
“It’s something. I don’t know if it’s athing, thing. Shut up.” He glanced away for a second, running a hand through his hair before looking back at me, a wide grin still playing on his lips. “Tell me more about what you mean by this Public House scene. Or what did you call it? A ‘third place?’”?
I told Charlie that our best moments were spent in the tiny pubs that felt more like a common room, or a living room, than an actual bar. There wasn’t any pretense or loud music, it was just a place for the community to gather and talk and share some pints.?
“A third place is like that cozy, tucked-away spot you can’t help but be drawn to, even when you’ve got a million things to do. It’s not work, it’s not home, but something in between—the kind of place that wraps you in its warmth the second you step inside,” I said, pausing to take a sip of my drink and glance at him.
He was scrolling through the four-million photos I had taken on my phone, barely looking up as I continued, my voice gaining a slight edge of excitement.
“Picture the low hum of conversations, the familiar clink of glasses, the easy smiles exchanged with strangers who somehow feel like old friends. It’s where life slows down just enough for you to catch your breath, to savor the small moments—like sharing a cup of coffee or a laugh across the table. There’s no pressure here, just a sense of belonging, like you’ve found a little corner of the world that’s just for you.”
I wanted it to feel like the heartbeat of the neighborhood, the backdrop to quiet moments that turned into memories, where love stories bloomed and friendships deepened. Some place where you met someone’s eyes from across the room and realized that maybe, just maybe, something magical was about to happen.
In the city where our family had emigrated from, Galway, there was a pub that had a warm fireplace, books for trading that lined a wall, and more importantly, friends gathering every night. We’d spent most of our time at Butler’s Pub meeting distant relatives and taking a thousand pictures of the place, writing down what was most important to us.?
I couldn’t wait to bring something so comforting and unique to Savannah.?
The most important revelation on the trip, however, was the clarity I’d found. I felt the grip of O’Malley’s, of Dane, of the things I thought I wanted gradually slipping away.?
And more importantly, I felt like my last night with Lee, though necessary and beautiful, was our last night for a reason.?
It had been time to move on, even though part of me still missed what Lee and I had, even if it had been brief. The comfort of the familiar, the warmth of our shared memories—it had been hard to let that go. But deep down, I had known that clinging to the past would only hold me back. I wanted to shine on my own, to discover who I was without being tied to anyone else. The desire to step into my own light, to build a life that was entirely mine, had grown stronger with each passing day. It hadn’t been about forgetting Lee or erasing the moments we had shared—I would always carry that with me. It had been about finding out who I could become, and I needed to do that on my own terms.
And of course, Sutton had sweet talked her way into snagging ButlerPub’s famous cottage pie recipe, so that was a major win.?
“Well, you look great. Happier, almost,” Charlie said, as if he could hear my thoughts.?
“I am happy, Charlie. My whole world, our history, might have burned to the ground. But look at what we still have. Look at what we’llalwayshave.”?
He nodded and passed me back my phone, finally sitting down next to me to pull a gooey, cheesy slice of pizza from the box.?
“So, what’s next for Magnolia Pruitt?”?
“Moving on. Rebuilding. And finally—for the first time in my life—figuring out who I am on my own.”?
Chapter forty-five
MAGNOLIA
St. Patrick’s Day in Savannah had come and gone, and the city was sweltering on the brink of another summer. It had been almost a year since Lee had come back, and life as we knew it was shook to the core, finally having unraveled at the seams.?
Though a part of me felt sorry for the loss of income during one of Savannah’s biggest party months, I’d remained hopeful for better days ahead.?
In the dead of night, Sutton and I had just left a long evening at Eunice Wilder’s house. Sutton had catered the affair with her new catering company, Savannah’s Sweethearts, and I was her bartender on call.?
“That was a weird party,” Sutton mused, ripping off her chef’s coat as we walked down Jones Street. “Who throws a party to celebrate National Coconut Cream Pie Day?”?
I laughed, peering in the darkened windows of some of Savannah’s booming businesses, now sleeping after a hard day of tourist placating.?I paused in front of an old building, looking it up and down. “I think she was trying to give us business, Sutton,” I laughed, shoving my face against the window, pointing to the for sale sign.?
“This is the third one you’ve stopped at this week, Mags. It was an antique shop. It won’t have a kitchen.”?
