Poem pats my chest. “Let them have their fun,” she says. “Consider their money compensation for your distress. You can use it to take me on a date outside of your apartment.”
My kit just might be the smartest kit in all the land.
I kiss her temple, then her mouth.
The room falls silent.
“If you’re here for the show, you better be buying a drink,” I declare into the silence, dragging my lips across Poem’s once more before lifting my head to drive home my threat. “No drinks, no show.”
Poem’s laughter shakes against my chest, echoed by several others in the room.
“I cannot emphasize enough how little of a joke that was,” I say.
Poem pats my cheek. “We know. That’s what makes it so cute.”
Yuck.
“I liked it better when you were calling me hot,” I tell her. “Let’s go back to that.”
Her eyes sparkle up at me, thick lashes framing the mischief within them to perfection. “You are hot,” she soothes. “As well as cute. Attractive and adorable. Handsome and beautiful. Endearingly gorgeous.” She rises to place a soft kiss on the rough stubble at my jawline. “And utterly ridiculous, to boot.”
“Utterly ridiculous!” I protest.
“Utterly,” she confirms, pulling out of my embrace. “Only an utterly ridiculous man would find issue with his business booming.”
“Not a big fan of the town making a spectacle of you,” I reply. “No matter how much money they’re giving me.”
Her face softens. “Date night,” she murmurs. “It’ll be worth it.”
“It’s only worth it if it doesn’t hurt you,” I reply. “The minute well-intentioned fun turns into something else, I’m kicking them all out, shutting the bar down for the night, and hiding you away until they learn how to act right. We can have date night in my apartment for an eternity for all I care, so long as I’m with you.”
Another smile, another kiss, and then the scent of lilac as Poem twirls to address the room. “You heard the man!” she yells. “Drinks or bust!”
Chatter returns, and I make myself busy on what I’ve deemed the Safer End of the bar—AKA the end where less people converge. Wolfe sits on a stool next to Sterne Donovan, local firefighter and my twin’s closest friend.
“You’d tell me if I needed to kick people out to meet fire code, right?” I ask. “You wouldn’t let me suffer like this if it were against the law, would you?”
Sterne snorts. “Absolutely I would let you suffer like this,” he says. “And then I’d fine you. Double enjoyment for me.”
I grunt, lifting Wolfe’s beer to wipe down the bar beneath it. “You’d think they’ve never seen two people date before.”
“We’ve never seenyoudate before,” Wolfe replies. “And none of us have seen Poem express even passing interest in anyone. If it weren’t for how often she drooled at your biceps, we would’ve thought she wasn’t interested in men at all.”
I pause, bar rag dangling from my fingertips. “Poem flirts with people all the time.” Or she did, anyway, before agreeing to our current situation.
“Sure,” Wolfe agrees. “But also not really. She flirts for tips and for fun, but never seriously. Never in a way that would lead to anything. She’s always held herself back from everyone, personable but not vulnerable, careful not to let anyone get too close.” He holds my gaze, somber in a room full of merry watchers. “She welcomes our friendship, but she’s not open to anything more. Except now. With you.”
“We’re happy to see you getting a love story,” Sterne adds when I can’t find a response. “And we’re happy to see her letting herself have one, too. Nobody’s trying to make you uncomfortable by being here. It’s a show of support—of community and celebration. Two people we all know and love are dancing around a different sort of love, and that’s a beautiful thing to behold.” Lower, he continues, “We just want to behold your joy, Fox, and hers, too. Some of us watch with hope, because if you two can make it? After being at each other’s throats for years? After closing yourselves off for years? Then that means that maybe the rest of us lonely people could have a chance at love, too.” He nods to Mr. and Mrs. Teague, a middle-aged couple tucked into a booth on the far wall. “And some of us watch with nostalgia, remembering the days when their relationship was fresh and new and full of possibilities. We’re happy for you two, and we’re happy for what you represent. It’s a joyous day in October, Fox, and it’s thanks to you.” He lifts his bourbon glass. “So let us pour our money into your bar in celebration, and rest easy in the knowledge that when the bar closes, you’ll have your peace with Poem while we all go home and pray that the next celebration we have is our own.”
He takes a swig of his drink while I stand very, very still, blinking fast and breathing hard.
Wolfe clears his throat. “Couldn’t have said it better,” he agrees, clinking his beer bottle to Sterne’s glass. “To celebrating the beauty in life.”
They drink again, and I tip my head to the ceiling, nostrils flaring.
“Do you mind if I talk to Fox for a minute?” Wolfe asks after a moment.
Sterne doesn’t reply verbally, but I assume he agrees when Wolfe calls for my attention. I drop my head, giving it to him.
