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His cheeks remained dark. “Are you angry about that?”

“No.” I wasn’t angry. I just couldn’t imagine why he’d bothered. Bwat was very curious about everything, though.

“Then let’s celebrate.” Bwat looked around at the other patrons. “What food do you like? What should we drink?”

I glanced over to see Jordan and Ozar deep in conversation. Willa and Stephanie were chatting over a couple of pints. Eng was pouting at the bar and pressing a frosted mug of lager to his cheek. Honestly, I did want to celebrate. I tried to tamp my obsession with my job down a bit with my friends. It was one thing to be career-focused, but I was aware I took that to a probably unhealthy level. I’d let Bwat see the crazy–the career lady as well as the personal crazy over the last few weeks. Maybe it was because he’d been a virtual stranger before he somehow became a friend. Maybe it was because the physical distance between us and the phone-based conversations had let my normal inhibitions loosen up a bit. Either way, Bwat knew and wasn’t bothered by my weirdness.

And over the last two weeks, we’d become really good friends.

“Blistered peppers, Thai red curry nachos, and the pita and pimento-hummus spread,” I told him. “Oooo, and a cheese plate. I’ve been living on energy drinks and Cool Ranch Doritos for the last two weeks,” I explained as he eyed me in surprise.

“Then perhaps a steak and the roasted vegetables would be a more nutritious meal?” Bwat suggested.

I waved a hand. “It’s ten o’clock at night and I’m buzzed off those cheap, watered-down beers at the arena. Save the steak for when I can enjoy it properly.”

He nodded. “Then appetizers it is. What are you drinking?”

This was a pub and I loved a good craft beer, but something made me blurt out “champagne”. Bwat was gone before I could change my mind, and before I knew it he was back and herding me into a corner booth while the pink-haired waitress was setting up a chrome-plated stand to hold a bucket of ice and a bottle of bubbly. When I saw the label I gasped.

“Bwat! I didn’t mean actual French champagne! Any sparkling wine will do.”

It sounded like he’d replied with something like “only the best for my Abby”, but the loud pop of the cork drowned out the words.

“I’m afraid to clink these glasses,” Bwat admitted as he turned the thin crystal in his large, green hand.

“Me too.” I raised the glass instead and he did the same.

“To Abby,” Bwat intoned. “The smartest being I know. The most beautiful of all females. She deserves success in her job, and in love. I hope she goes viral many, many times.”

Now it was me blushing - pink instead of green.

“To the Tusks. They may win or lose games, but they’ll absolutely win the hearts of hockey fans and Baltimore residents.”

I took a sip of my bubbly, savoring the complex flavors and perfectly chilled temperature. Bwat swallowed a big gulp, then coughed.

I laughed. “It takes a while to get used to fizzy drinks.”

The orc nodded. “Yes. I am now comfortable with the Mountain Dew beverage, but this is different.”

And now I was in near hysterics over Bwat comparing a five hundred dollar bottle of champagne to Mountain Dew.

Who knew that McHenry’s had champagne? Or crystal flutes?

The pink-haired waitress rested a tray on the edge of the table and began off-loading our food. She caught my eye and winked. “We don’t have champagne on the menu, but the owner keeps a couple of bottles in the back for him and his friends. When Bwat told us this was a celebration, I knew we needed to break out the good stuff. Congratulations. You all are an adorable couple.”

Wait.

My eyes widened as I realized she thought this was an engagement celebration. I wanted to correct her but the bottle of expensive champagne was already open, and there was no putting the cork, or the already sipped beverage, back in the bottle. Besides, Bwat seemed oblivious to the underlying assumption, so I smiled and nodded, and stuffed a blistered pepper in my mouth instead of responding.

“How is your mother? Did she have the bicep today? Did they tell her when they will have the result?” Bwat asked as he scooped some nachos onto a plate and put it in front of me.

Bicep. I choked back a laugh, not wanting him to feel bad about his mistake.

“She did have the biopsy today. Although it’s too early to know, the doctor was very optimistic. We’re hoping it’ll come back benign, but either way we should know sometime next week after the lab results are in.”

“Benign?” Bwat dug in his pocket for his phone.

I smiled. “Benign would mean that she does not have cancer and would not face having to battle a life threatening illness,” I explained. “If the lab results show the sample is benign, then they would continue to monitor her with annual mammograms, but everything would be okay.”