Page 87 of Something’s Brewing

He met her eyes one last time. “You’re strong. You’re smart. You could run that company better than he ever did. And you don’t need his approval to prove it.”

The words were meant to lift her up. But all she felt was the distance growing between them.

He stepped back, already shutting down, already pulling away. “I’ve got an early morning,” he added, like that explained everything.

Like this—whatever this was—was over for tonight.

“Garrett—”

But he shook his head once. “You’ll figure it out.” And then he turned and walked inside. The screen door shut behind him with a soft click.

Madison stood there, frozen, the lake breeze suddenly cold against her skin. Her phone buzzed in her hand and she glanced down. Mason. Her heart jumped as she answered. “Hey⁠—”

“Madison,” Mason said, his voice tight . . . different. Not tense. Not upset. Excited. “You need to get to Minneapolis,” he said. “We’re at the hospital.”

Her breath caught. “What—what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, and then she heard the smile in his voice. “Eve had the baby. He’s here.”

Madison’s world shifted in an instant. “He!”

“A boy,” Mason added. “You’re an aunt.”

Emotion rushed in, fast and overwhelming. “I—I’m coming. I’ll leave now.”

She hung up, already moving, throwing clothes in her bag and grabbing the keys to the rental car.

She hesitated for just a second at the door, glancing back toward where Garrett had disappeared. He hadn’t come back out. She swallowed hard, then stepped into the night and pulled the door shut behind her, wondering if chasing the thing she’d wanted her entire life would cost her the life she’d only just begun to want instead.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Garrett had spent the entire day pretending he wasn’t avoiding the brewery. He’d been up before sunrise out of habit, dressed by six, keys in hand. But instead of driving into town, he headed for the lake. That hadn’t helped.

The quiet out on the water had only given him too much time to think. About the argument on the patio and about the way Madison looked at him right before he walked away.

So, he’d come back, showered, changed, and gone for a drive north along the shoreline with no destination in mind. He’d stopped in Duluth and watched the ships: an outbound iron ore ship, a cruise ship crowded with passengers leaning against the deck rails. He grabbed a coffee from a roadside shop, then drove aimlessly for another two hours.

His phone buzzed again in the cupholder, so he pulled over to the side of the road.

It was a text from Mason:

He’s here. Mom and baby are good. You’re officially Uncle Garrett. Hope you can survive a few days without Madison.

Garrett tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Yeah. She hadn’t said goodbye. Not a knock on his door. Not a text. Not even a hey, I’m heading out.

Just gone before he woke up.

Mason deserved a response. He typed:

Congratulations, Dad. Give my love to Eve and that new baby of yours. I can’t wait to meet him. What’s his name?

The three dots appeared.

Andrew Garrett Mitchell

Wow. A tear escaped and he brushed it away.

I’m honored