Page 177 of Smoke and Glitter

"I'm proud of you."

There are probably twelve different ways I could get around that sentence.

A joke. A shrug. Something about the staff or the contractors or how much work is still left.

I don't use any of them.

I put my hand over hers.

"Thank you."

Her fingers tighten once against my shirt.

Then she smiles. "Go."

I kiss her forehead before heading back to the bar.

By the time I lock the front door, my feet hurt and opening night has left fingerprints everywhere. The last of the staff heads out after finishing close, and when the door shuts behind them, Smoke finally goes quiet.

I turn around.

Autumn is still at the far end of the bar.

She's sitting sideways on the stool with both elbows on the counter and no shoes on her feet.

I find one beneath the stool. The other is halfway across the room near the coat rack. I pick it up on my way toward her.

"Lose something?"

She looks at the shoe in my hand. "I knew where that was."

"You did not."

"I knew the general area."

"Very responsible."

"I was busy supporting a small business."

"You spent most of the night nursing your mezcal."

"Morale is important."

I set both shoes on the floor beside her and lean against the bar. Autumn looks around the empty room.

"You did it."

"Looks that way."

She turns toward me. "No. You really did it."

I follow her gaze toward the plate. Then back to her.

"You said you wanted me here when it opened."

"I remember."

"At the end of the bar."