Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
brIAR
“Oh my God, please don’t stress about my brother,” Hannah says as I tuck my phone back into my pocket after texting Liam. “He’ll get over it.”
We’re outside, watching the delivery drivers as they finish unloading the kegs of ginger beer. They’re bringing them around the back, thank God, not through the tasting room. Liam would only get more pissed off if he had to watch them get shuttled past him.
“He’s always been a big baby about his beer,” Hannah continues, zipping her coat up over her sweatshirt. “But you made a wise decision. He’ll realize that as soon as he gets his head out of his ass.”
Nora nods. “Never let a man talk you out of a sound business decision. I say this as someone who let José name one of our ginger beers after his ex.”
“Was it you?” Hannah nudges her arm. “Were you the ex?”
Nora laughs, but Sophie’s watching me closely. “Are you okay, Briar?”
No. I can’t stop thinking about the look of betrayal in Liam’s eyes.
It feels very important for him to forgive me, and I know it has nothing to do with preserving a comfortable work environment.
He’s important to me, and not only because he’s the genius I need to make this place work. I care about him.
“I’m fine,” I say with a forced smile, watching as the delivery guys disappear around the corner and through the back door. “He was right, though. I should have told him.”
“Well, he knows now,” Nora says practically.
Sophie checks her watch. “Are we going to have a drink? I need to get to the airport in a couple of hours.”
“Me too,” Hannah says with a sigh. “I don’t have high hopes for Travis’s mother. She calls everyone dah-ling and tried to book me Botox for Christmas.”
Nora laughs. “At least she’s generous. I’d go for it if I were you. You’d have a built-in excuse for not smiling. Maybe I’ll start pretending I just had Botox.”
I lead them into the back, making sure the kegs were dropped off in the right place, and then into the barrel room.
The soft lighting and beautiful garland-draped barrels remind me of the effort Liam went to the day he and Otis set this up, and guilt sneaks into my veins as my friends get settled—Sophie and Hannah on the chairs, Nora on a barrel.
I sigh as I pour them glasses of the latest beer Liam brought in for me to try—a delicious spring beer with a hint of elderberry and lemon verbena. After handing them out, I take a seat on another of the empty barrels.
“So what are you doing for the holidays, Nora?” Hannah asks. “Let us live vicariously.”
Nora takes a swig from her drink. “I’m sorry to report that my mom and I are having the Peebles men over for Christmas dinner.”
“You’re complaining about dinner with Eugene?” Hannah asks. “How dare you. I love that salty bastard.”
“Well, you’re more than welcome to cancel your trip and join us. Mom’s making meatloaf.”
I sigh. “That sounds nice. I hate spending Christmas with my parents. They always invite some investor or someone they want to impress and dress me up like a doll.”
“Ugh, I’m adding another plate for you.” Nora waves her glass at me.
“I’m not joking. You’ll be saving me, and I’ll be saving you.
You heard what Liam said about Cormac. He’s going to spend all night talking about his high school science project.
I’ll need to get hammered just to get through it alive. ”
“I might actually take you up on that.”
“Good,” she says, smiling, then gestures her glass toward the door. “You can ask Liam to come if you want. I’ll even let him give me a hard time about my ginger beer. Brewers love to gab about how their stuff is better.”
“He probably would too,” Hannah grumbles. “But I’ll tell you right now, he won’t come. He hates Christmas.”
“Yes, damn all those happy people with their presents and smiles,” Sophie says with an easy grin.
But suddenly my heart is beating hard. My intuition tells me this is significant for some reason.
“Why?” I ask, my gaze on Hannah.
She shrugs. “His ex-girlfriend’s birthday was on Christmas. It reminds him of her. He always gets tanked. Even when he’s around family. He was supposed—” She cuts herself off.
“He has an ex-girlfriend?” I ask, dumbfounded. “But you said…”
She waves a hand. “Yeah, I know, but this was a long time ago. It’s been years since he’s dated anyone for longer than a month. He doesn’t like it when I talk about his ex, though, so I’ve probably said too much.”
The conversation moves on, but I don’t…
Liam has an ex-girlfriend.
He cared about her enough that he hates Christmas because it reminds him of her.
He hasn’t dated anyone seriously since they broke up, which means he hasn’t moved on.
Nausea twists my stomach, putting me in danger of a Code V.
Stupid girl.
I thought something special was building between us, but maybe that’s just the way it feels when you spend every day with someone, working toward the same goal. For all I know, I’m no more important to him than any other part of Silver Star. The paint. The mortar. The—
The twinkling lights arranged over the barrels catch my eye. He didn’t need to help Otis put this room together for me. It was nowhere in his job description. He also didn’t need to watch Rocky with me or sing to the beer.
Working on this room was like giving me a big bear hug. Maybe I don’t mean as much to him as this Christmas girl, but I mean something. We’re friends, at least.
But the way he kissed me…
That wasn’t the way you kiss a friend.
I wrap my arms around my chest, which doesn’t ease the confused ache in my chest.
Hannah and Sophie leave—Hannah with an oh shit, because she’s running late—but Nora hasn’t finished her beer yet, so she agrees to stay for another five minutes.
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. I do believe 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.
My inner critic whispers, This is the problem with you, Briar. You walk around falling in love with coats and men who don’t want you…
“Go home,” Liam says, his voice gravelly.
“You’re mad at me.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
I reach for his arm. He’s only in a long-sleeved shirt now, but he’s warm beneath it, and my fingers curl around him. “It matters to me.”
Emotion flickers through his eyes, but then his jaw hardens. “Of course. Because you want everyone to like you.”
“I want you to like me.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment, my hand still wrapped around his forearm, as if he might slip away if I let him go. I have the urge to pull him closer. To wrap us both up in the coat as if it has the power to hide us from the world.
“I wouldn’t say liking you is the problem, Princess,” he finally says. “I like you just fine.”
“I have faith in you,” I say. “Please believe me. Please.”
He takes a step toward me, and my whole body reorients itself, tipping toward him. My breath freezes in my lungs. It’s the way he’s looking at me…
“I like hearing you say please,” he finally says, his voice thick with meaning.
“Please.”
His hand lifts to my face, his rough fingers tracing my jawline. For a moment, I’m sure he’s going to do it—he’s going to kiss me right here, out on the street where anyone can see us—but he lowers his hand. I see it ball at his side, and then he steps back.
My gaze tracks his Adam’s apple as it bobs in his throat. “You were making the best decision for the brewery. I get that. I shouldn’t have taken it personally.” He pauses. “Your father issued me my very own invitation to your family dinner tomorrow night.”
“He did?” I ask, feeling raw. Not surprised, though. My father has always preferred dealing with men.
“He did. I assume he got my information from your godfather. You know, I thought lawyers were supposed to keep things confidential, but not good old Uncle John.”
“I’ll talk to my dad about the organic certification. You don’t have to come,” I say, full of nervous energy at the thought. I don’t like that Liam’s upset with me, but pity is so much worse than anger. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”
He gives me a slow perusal, ending on my eyes. His voice hoarse, he says, “There are a lot of things I want but can’t have too.”
“I’m not going with you,” I insist. “I don’t want them to think—”
“Oh, it wouldn’t cross their minds that you’d slum it with someone like me,” he says with a harsh laugh.
“You know that’s not what I meant.” I’m proud of how detached I sound, particularly since my heart is practically beating its way out of my chest. “They won’t take me seriously if…I won’t go over there with you.”
“That’s okay,” he says with a bemused smile. “I can make my own way. Maybe I’ll take my bicycle.”
I clench my jaw. “You do that.”
He turns to walk away, and I remember with a start that I’m still wearing his coat. He must be freezing in that shirt.
“Liam, your coat!”
He peers back at me, his lips quirked up. “Keep it. It looks better on you.” His lips inch up further. “In fact, wear it tomorrow night if you’d like. We’ll give them something to talk about.”