When I stand, she’s already pulling at my belt. Her hands are shaking. Mine aren’t steady either. I push inside her and her whole body tightens around me, her heels locked behind my back, her nails cutting into my shoulders. I hold still for a second. Just one. Just to feel her. She bites my lower lip and pulls, and that’s the end of holding still.
The table scrapes against the floor. Her hand knocks a fork off the edge. I grip her hip with one hand and brace the table with the other, and she meets every thrust with her own rhythm, the one we’ve built over decades. She pulls me closer by the back of the neck, breathes hard against my ear, and tells me not to stop. She doesn’t realize I never want to stop.
She finishes first. I feel it run through her whole body. The clench, the shudder, her breath catching high in her throat. She holds my face and watches me with half-closed eyes while I follow her, and when I do, she pulls me down against her and wraps both arms around my head and holds me there while my breathing comes apart.
We stay like that. Her heartbeat against my cheek. My weight half on her, half on the table. The grandfather clock in the living room ticking, reminding us that time is never on our side anymore.
She’s leaning back on her palms, still on the table, her blouse open, her hair falling out of the clip. I’m standing between her knees with my forehead against hers, both of us breathing hard.Her cheeks are flushed. Her lips are swollen. She looks wrecked in the best possible way.
“Welcome home,” she says.
I laugh against her mouth. Kiss her once more, soft this time. Brush her hair back behind her ear.
“I’ll clean up the glass.”
“You’d better. I’m not moving.”
I pick the broken stem off the floor and wipe the wine from the tile while she watches me from the table, still half-dressed, legs swinging off the edge. She looks twenty years younger in this light, exactly how I see her.
An hour later,I drive to Ralph’s at Josie’s urging. She had a few things from a PTA meeting to take care of and wanted to do it dressed and without me disturbing her. My feelings were hurt, but I understand.
We bought Ralph’s a few years ago when Ralph’s son, Charlie, wanted to retire. He took my beloved bar—the one that knowingly served me as a minor—and gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse. As a teen, I loved Ralph’s and wanted to make sure Beaumont didn’t lose a once-thriving bar.
The restoration lasted four months. I had a solid crew working to bring Ralph’s back to life. The sign out front is the same one that hung there when I was in high school, only better. The light isn’t dim and it doesn’t blink anymore.
The bartender on shift, Gina, is behind the counter. Three regulars sit at the far end nursing drafts and watching a ballgame on the screen above the top shelf. The jukebox is off. The kitchen closed an hour ago, and the fryer smell is fading.
“Hey, boss.” Gina tosses a bar towel over her shoulder. “Didn’t know you were back.”
“Just today.”
“Want a beer?”
“I’m good.”
I walk the bar giving myself something to do, even though I know Noah would’ve taken care of everything while I was gone. I hired Noah to manage once he moved back here. He retired after the triplets were born, and managing the bar was something easy for him. My staff is competent, which gives Noah a ton of flexibility. He also coaches football and baseball with the frenemy.
Everything is clean, stocked, and where it belongs. I’m mostly here because Josie needed me out of her hair for an hour or so, and where else would I go. Years ago, I’d go to the cemetery and visit Mason. Those trips are few and far these days. I feel like I’ve said everything I could to the man I once called my best friend, and I hope I’ve atoned for the pain and hurt I caused by my actions. Josie, Noah and Katelyn have forgiven me, and that’s all that matters.
There’s satisfaction in owning a place that people love to visit, a place where I can work and the only thing they expect of me is a perfectly poured beer and the best damn chicken tenders they’ve ever had. They don’t look at me and see Liam Page, the musician. They see me as Liam Westbury, a member of their community.
There was a time though, when they saw me as the golden child. The star quarterback who was going to put Beaumont on the map. I failed them then but am always trying to make up for it now.
I tell Gina to have a good night and head to the parking lot. I don’t need to spend time hovering over her and the job she’s doing. She’s more than competent. My whole staff is.
In the parking lot, my phone buzzes.
Paige
Hi, Daddy. Where are you?
My heart warms until my Spidey senses kick in and I wonder what she wants.
I’m on my way home from Ralph’s.
Paige
Okay.
