Sarah’s laugh spread through her. “I know, you started snoring a minute ago.”
“Sorry.” Beth yawned. “Some hot girl in London made me come so hard I forgot where I was in time and space.”
“Hey Beth,” Sarah said softly, as Beth melted to the sound of her name rolling off Sarah’s tongue. “Don’t forget to go to the bathroom. You know, UTIs and whatnot.”
Beth grinned. There was Sarah, always trying to take care of her. She loved her for it.
“Thanks for the reminder,” she whispered. “Good night, Sar.”
“Happy birthday, beautiful. Sleep tight,” Sarah said before hanging up.
Forty-six was already feeling like it was shaping up to be a fantastic year.
The familiar jingle rang above her head as Beth pushed her way through the door of the Grumpy Goat several days later. She breathed deeply, the familiar scent of roasted coffee beans and fresh pastries filling her as she approached the counter where Sean stood wearing an apron.
“You behind the bar is never a good sign,” she joked.
Sean was incredibly talented at business, not so much at making coffee. At that moment, Pat appeared from the stock room, arms full. “Don’t worry. He’s only allowed to work the register. We all remember how he almost blew the place up.” He shot a wink at Beth as she grinned, remembering how Sean had nearly destroyed the espresso machine and all of them in the process.
“I’m only working because we’re short-staffed.” Sean’s grin unfurled, eyes sparkling behind thick black-framed glasses. “Myusual stand-in decided she wanted to jump back into her art again.”
It was true. At the beginning of the year, Beth let Sean and Pat know she wouldn’t be able to work her shifts anymore because she was focusing on her art again.
“Are you complaining?” she asked, raising a challenging brow.
“Not at all. You make me a hell of a lot more money with your paintings than with lattes.” He grinned again, Pat tossing a sleeve of compostable cups at him.
“And by that, he means we’re so happy you’re back in your studio.”
Beth grinned, taking a small moment to watch Pat and Sean and how they were with each other as they bickered playfully. They were opposites, but in a way that made so much sense. Sean, with his biting sarcasm, quick sass, and endless charm paired with anyone else would easily be a different version of himself, but with Pat? Pat’s tenderness drew out the best in Sean.
“Earth to Beth.” Pat waved a hand, catching her attention.
“Sorry, what?” she asked dumbly.
“No worries, just asking if you wanted your usual iced lavender oatmilk latte?”
“Yes, please. Make it two. Lily should be here any minute.”
“Oh, right.” Sean moved towards the glass pastry display case, grabbing a pair of tongs and placing two sticky buns in to-go containers. “Happy sticky bun day!” he said excitedly.
National sticky bun day—aka February twenty-first—was a favorite holiday in the Gallagher house. Co-opted by Lily after she had done a school report on obscure holidays, it had become a family tradition to celebrate. Slowly, over the years, all of their friends had been looped into the tradition as well.
The door opened once more, accompanied again by the small jingle and a rush of cool winter air as Lily breezed in, joining Beth at the end of the bar as Sean placed their sticky buns and drinks in front of them.
“Hi, Mama,” Lily said. “Hey, Sean! Happy sticky bun day!” She slid her arm around Beth’s waist, leaning into her for a half-hug and a kiss to the temple. “Ready to walk?” she asked excitedly.
Beth had been surprised that morning when Lily had come into the kitchen asking if Beth would want to go for a walk with her to celebrate sticky bun day. Beth, of course, had answered with an emphatic yes.
The jingle saw them out as she and Lily pushed through the door, turning down the street. They chatted animatedly, catching each other up on their days—Lily asking about how her most recent painting was going—as they headed for the waterfront path bordering the marina.
Grey weathered boards creaked beneath their feet, competing with the rhythmic push and pull of water against the rock-strewn beach.
“Come on,” Lily urged. “Let’s sit so we can eat.” She pointed out a bench ahead on the path, picking up her pace.
They slid onto the bench, each sitting cross-legged in mirrored positions.
“I like that we still celebrate sticky bun day,” Lily said, using her fork to take a large bite of the golden brown pastry. “I know you and mom were doing it to humor me… Kinda thought we’d stop doing it eventually.”
