Page 77 of Best Kind of Trouble
My mind dips back to what she told us about dating her business partner.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” I ask hesitantly.
A smile drifts across her face. “Aren’t we past all that? We all slept with the same loser.”
“The reason it didn’t work with you and José…was it because you worked together?”
A speculative look enters her eyes. She knows I’m talking about Liam but doesn’t call it out. “No, Briar, but I’m not going to sugarcoat it. It sure made shit awkward afterward.”
I feel like I just tried to swallow a tennis ball, but I manage a stiff nod.
She finishes her beer, then says, “I hope you come on Monday. I’m not the kind of person who makes invitations without meaning it. I’d like it if you were there.”
“Thank you.”
When she gets up, I lean in to hug her, and she smiles. “I’m not much of a hugger.”
“I respect that.”
“Now, I suspect there’s a huge man sulking somewhere out there. Good luck.”
She leaves, and I check my phone.
Nothing from Liam.
I take a deep breath and head over to the vats, feeling like a mother hen checking on her egg.
I turn the corner at the edge of the half wall, hoping I won’t see him. Also wanting desperately for him to be there.
Instead, I see Dottie’s butt lifted up in the air next to the vat containing the pale ale. She’s doubled over in the corner.
“Dottie!” I shout. Oh God, she’s in her eighties, and I’ve let her do too much, and now?—
She flinches and then stands up straight, turning toward me. “Briar,” she chides, clucking her tongue. “You shouldn’t sneak up on elderly people like that. Why, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
I place a hand over my racing heart. “What on earth are you doing?”
“I created a network of crystals to speed up the fermentation. I only wish I’d thought to do it sooner.”
“It can’t hurt,” I say. “Thank you.”
I head into the tasting room, which has cleared out a lot, and find Otis and Ann behind the bar. Both of them smell like pot, but I don’t want to point it out in front of customers.
“Do you know where Liam is?”
“Uh…he just left for home,” Otis says, watching me closely.
“Oh.” I reach reflexively for my rose quartz necklace and start fidgeting with it, my mind spinning. I’m not going to see him until morning. I won’t be able to tell him I’m sorry. I?—
I bolt out of the front door of the brewery, searching the salted sidewalks for him. It’s not hard to spot him. He’s heads taller than most of the people around him, his hair looking like burnished copper under the streetlights.
“Liam!” I run to him, nearly slipping on an icy patch of sidewalk. Someone yells at me to be careful, but my ears are filled with static buzz. The only thing I can concentrate on is reaching him.
He turns to me with a look of shock. I’m almost proud of myself, because he’s not a man who’s startled often.
“I should have told you about the ginger beer,” I say, panting as I reach him. “But I didn’t want you to think it’s because I don’t believe in you. Idobelieve in you.”
He studies me for a moment before sighing and taking off his coat, which he drapes over my shoulders. This is becoming a habit. The coat is warm and smells like him. I barely took notice of it the last time he made me borrow it, but this time I instantly fall in love with it.
