Page 146 of Best Kind of Trouble
“It’s almost a shame my dad didn’t come to see it burn,” I tell him, snuggling into his shoulder.
We’re both dressed in the sparkly star sweaters Dottie got for everyone on staff. We all put them on a few hours ago, but Liam’s is one of the only sweaters that’s visible—because he never gets cold and isn’t wearing a coat. Dottie was right about how it wouldfit. The sweater is at least one size too small for him, but Liam is probably the least self-conscious person I’ve ever met. He tugged it on, shrugged when he realized it clung to every single ridge of his chest, and then continued to wear it. He also has a name tag on—almost everyone does. They’re leftovers from the Big Catch party.
Liam’s says,Hi! My name isMR. MIRACLE, and I like toBREW BEER. The first name tag he filled out was immediately balled up (by me), because it said,and I like toFUCK MY BOSS.
He pulls me into his warmth, his arm wrapped around me like he’s never going to let go. “We can take a picture of the fire for him and bring it to dinner next week. Were you thinking he’d appreciate the symbolism? Or did you hope he’d run in there to save hisprecious?”
“Very funny.” I pause, watching the flames consume the wood. “Do you think my father will ever change?”
He peers down at me. “Do you want me to be honest?”
“Always.”
He hugs me closer. “No, Princess, I don’t. But we’ll keep showing up every Friday until he changes that agreement. And, who knows, maybe someday they’ll surprise us and suggest going out for burgers instead of staring uncomfortably at each other across the table. But if not, who cares. These are the people who’ve shown up for us.”
I lean up on my toes and kiss him. “You’ve shown up for me from the beginning, even when you kept trying to act like an asshole.”
“It’s not my fault you’re so good at getting people to see your way of thinking. I’d stopped wanting much of anything before you came along, but you made short work of that.”
I kiss him again, then press my cheek against his intensely shiny sweater. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He checks his phone, then says gently, “It’s time, Briar.”
Seconds before midnight, we begin the countdown side by side. Then cheers ring out as we announce the new year. We weave our way through the throng of partygoers and start passing out the free samples of our Champbier.
Most people are a little drunk already, but everyone seems to love the new ale. At least five people pull me aside and say they’d like to place orders. I’m proud of us, and I want to celebrate, but my heart is also stuck in my throat.
It’s our first beer, and I’m worried it’ll be the last one we produce at Silver Star.
“It was a beautiful party,”I tell Liam, nuzzling into him as we sneak into the deserted tasting room.
He seeks out my gaze. “But it still wasn’t enough.”
The party was about a fourth as big as it should have been, given the unconventional location, and we didn’t just miss out on the people drinking. We missed out on the merch they might have bought. The six-packs.
And even though the guys saved us from a substantial water removal bill, the floors and drywall are noticeably damaged. That won’t be a small expense…
“I don’t think so,” I say softly. “I estimate we’d need at least thirty thousand dollars to fix everything, beyond what I can contribute from my savings. And that’s not even factoring in the amount of time we’ll need to be closed.”
“So what you’re saying is that we still need twenty grand, plus salary for the staff and enough money to cover a few zero-income weeks,” he says. “I guess it’s a good thing we have so fewemployees.”
“You’re going to put your own savings into this?”
“Of course,” he says, cupping my cheek. “I take my ten percent stake very seriously.” He smiles. “And my girlfriend.”
My gaze catches on the photo that’s still propped up behind the bar. My father’s image has no place here.
“There’s something I need to do,” I say, then slide behind the bar to take the photo down.
“More fuel for the fire?”
I smile, but get distracted when I notice the list of rules that was wedged behind it. I’m hit with a swell of nostalgia, but it’s time to destroy our old rules, just like we destroyed my father’s in the fire.
I glance at Liam, and he gives me a knowing nod. “Yep, those have to go too. Into the fire, or you could shred the list in a fit of rage. That’d do too.”
Smiling, I tug the paper toward me, but when I do, a little collection of scratch-off tickets is revealed behind it.
“More of Ann’s scratchers?” Liam asks.
