Twenty minutes later, the four of us are bellied up to the bar ofThe Pub, Willow’s boyfriend’s Irish bar, and I have a giant jalapeno and cream cheese stuffed soft pretzel and a tequila sunrise in front of me.
Reeve Luck is the kind of grumpy that even Zach couldn’t match, but somehow Willow softens him. He still calls us trouble when we walk in, but now it’s laced with affection instead of disdain.
A vast improvement.
Luck pushes a water in front of me when I get to the bottom of the tequila sunrise quicker than I should have, the straw slurping against the ice cubes. I wrinkle my face at him, but he taps the glass with his finger before heading down the long bar to another group that had just sat down.
“He’s bossy without even saying a single word,” I grumble at Liv, who snickers behind a bite of her nachos.
Grandma Jude has a vodka tonic and a heaping bowl of white chicken chili. I steal a tortilla chip off her plate and she slaps the back of my hand. “Get your own.”
Willow slides her basket of deep-fried cheese curds over to me. “I won’t be able to eat them all.”
Two hours later, we’re rolling with laughter, probably one too many drinks in, and for a little while, I feel better. The ache doesn’t seem to be suffocating, at least for a little while. Luck stands in front of us, drying a glass with a microfiber towel.
With golden brown eyes the color of whisky, dark auburn hair, and freckles fordays, he genuinely looks the part of an Irish pub owner. I’m pleasantly buzzed, and I eye him up and down, using the straw from my third tequila sunrise like a baton, I wave it at him. Sucking down my fourth drink, I mutter across thebar at him, “You know, you’re too tall to be a lep–” hiccup, “–leprechan.”
Willow chokes on her drink, and Luck just rolls his lips in between his teeth. “Thank you for letting me know, Lou.”
Liv cackles from beside me, then drapes her arm over my shoulder. “Maybe we’re ready to be done, yeah?”
“We haven’t even done shots yet.”
“Oh no,” Willow laughs, shaking her head. “Absolutely not. We had lunch and drinks. No shots. Do you want to wait outside while we pay the bill?”
“You guys are babying me,” I mutter, but nod. Liv is driving, having agreed to be our DD for the afternoon after my second drink. Probably a good idea. “I’ll go sit on the bench outside.”
“I’m going to use the little girls’ room,” Grandma says, then slides off her barstool. Liv goes with her while Willow pays and says bye to Luck, and I head outside.
I lean against one of the brick pillars outside, letting my head rest against it so that I can stare up at the evening sky. The sun is setting behind another gloomy, cloud filled horizon.
I hear footsteps on the pavement and turn my head, a jogger is coming down the sidewalk, sneakers slapping against the cold concrete. A pair of dark glasses sit on his face, and a set of headphones are on his head as he runs.
I’m just buzzed enough to hope and pray that it’s my consumption tricking my eyeballs, but no such luck.
Joel spots me and I stand a little straighter, my eyes tracking around him like Zach might pop up at any moment. Oh fuck.
He slows, pulling the headphones off his head and draping them around his neck as he nears. His breathing is labored from the pace, and when he stops next to me, he grins while catching his breath.
“Hey, Peach,” he says, then those dark, kind eyes meet mine, and I hate the pity I see in them. He rubs at the back of his neckawkwardly, and I realize he and Zach do the same thing. “I’m sorry. For how Zach’s handling this. He’s uh… he’s struggling.”
I shrug my shoulders, swallowing hard. Good. I hope he is. I hope he’s hurting just as bad as I am.
Guilt swamps me then, and I take it all back. That’s not the kind of person I am, and I don’t want to wish ill on him…
“It’s not my story to tell, and I don’t agree with how he’s going about this,” he mutters, looking at me again. “It was worse than we thought, Lou. And that’s not an excuse… Anyway. He’s an idiot, and he’s gonna figure that out. I just hope it’s not too late. Don’t… don’t give up on him, okay?”
I nod, tears stinging my nose. Digging into the purse strung across my body, I pull out a small manilla envelope and hold it out to him. “Umm, I don’t know if he’ll still use them, but I promised I’d give him tickets for the girls to come to the Princess Dinner in a few weeks. They just gave us the tickets a few days ago, but I didn’t know how to get them to him and honestly even if he does bring them it might just kill me to see them and not be able to… to…”
Joel takes the narrow envelope and taps the corner of it into his other palm, his gaze steady on me. I blink back tears, then swipe at them angrily when they track down my cheeks. Goddammit.
“Grandma Jude is going to yell at me,” I mutter brokenly, forcing a laugh. “I’m not supposed to be crying anymore.”
I can sense Joel wants to say something more, but the door behind us opens and my three compadres exit the bar.
He pulls me into his chest—sweaty from his run—and then chuffs me under the chin. Such a brotherly act and it makes me laugh again, and then he’s off.
Fifty-Seven
