Chapter Twenty-Six
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I think he loves his bar. Maybe.
Fox
I love my bar. I love my bar. I love my bar.
I love my bar.
The people in it, however?
I glare at the crowded room, scowling extra at the knowing smiles and exchanged glances of my patrons.
“You’re going to scare away the customers,” Poem notes, sliding a glass of amber liquid across the bartop. “Again. And I’m not sure you can afford two nights of lost income in a single month.”
“I can afford it,” I assure her, narrowing my eyes at the door as more people squeeze into a space that is surely out of fire code. “We’re not a zoo exhibit.”
She shrugs. “I don’t think they think we are.”
Disbelieving, I gape at her. “They’re quite literally here for us to entertain them. You and I both know it. I haven’t seen this many people in the bar since my parent’s retirement party.”
Her eyes roll as she reaches around me for the soda water nozzle. “They love you,” she says. “And they love me, and they love a bit of gossip, too, yeah. But mostly they love us and want to see us happy.”
My arm goes around her waist, unbalancing her.
“Let’s let them see us happy, then,” I suggest as she falls into me. “So that they can have their show and leave.”
She grins. “You think they’re going to leave if we feed them?” she asks, brows rising.
“You don’t?”
She shakes her head. “No way.”
I huff, scanning the faces above her head to find that she is, perhaps, correct. Rather than satisfy their nosiness, I’ve only made the town of October more ravenous.
Poem pats my chest. “Let them have their fun,” she says. “Consider their money compensation for your distress. You can use it to take me on a date outside of your apartment.”
My kit just might be the smartest kit in all the land.
I kiss her temple, then her mouth.
The room falls silent.
“If you’re here for the show, you better be buying a drink,” I declare into the silence, dragging my lips across Poem’s once more before lifting my head to drive home my threat. “No drinks, no show.”
Poem’s laughter shakes against my chest, echoed by several others in the room.
“I cannot emphasize enough how little of a joke that was,” I say.
Poem pats my cheek. “We know. That’s what makes it so cute.”
Yuck.
“I liked it better when you were calling me hot,” I tell her. “Let’s go back to that.”
Her eyes sparkle up at me, thick lashes framing the mischief within them to perfection.
“You are hot,” she soothes. “As well as cute. Attractive and adorable. Handsome and beautiful. Endearingly gorgeous.” She rises to place a soft kiss on the rough stubble at my jawline. “And utterly ridiculous, to boot.”
“Utterly ridiculous!” I protest.
“Utterly,” she confirms, pulling out of my embrace. “Only an utterly ridiculous man would find issue with his business booming.”
“Not a big fan of the town making a spectacle of you,” I reply. “No matter how much money they’re giving me.”
Her face softens. “Date night,” she murmurs. “It’ll be worth it.”
“It’s only worth it if it doesn’t hurt you,” I reply.
“The minute well-intentioned fun turns into something else, I’m kicking them all out, shutting the bar down for the night, and hiding you away until they learn how to act right.
We can have date night in my apartment for an eternity for all I care, so long as I’m with you. ”
Another smile, another kiss, and then the scent of lilac as Poem twirls to address the room. “You heard the man!” she yells. “Drinks or bust!”
Chatter returns, and I make myself busy on what I’ve deemed the Safer End of the bar—AKA the end where less people converge. Wolfe sits on a stool next to Sterne Donovan, local firefighter and my twin’s closest friend.
“You’d tell me if I needed to kick people out to meet fire code, right?” I ask. “You wouldn’t let me suffer like this if it were against the law, would you?”
Sterne snorts. “Absolutely I would let you suffer like this,” he says. “And then I’d fine you. Double enjoyment for me.”
I grunt, lifting Wolfe’s beer to wipe down the bar beneath it. “You’d think they’ve never seen two people date before.”
“We’ve never seen you date before,” Wolfe replies. “And none of us have seen Poem express even passing interest in anyone. If it weren’t for how often she drooled at your biceps, we would’ve thought she wasn’t interested in men at all.”
I pause, bar rag dangling from my fingertips. “Poem flirts with people all the time.” Or she did, anyway, before agreeing to our current situation.
“Sure,” Wolfe agrees. “But also not really. She flirts for tips and for fun, but never seriously. Never in a way that would lead to anything. She’s always held herself back from everyone, personable but not vulnerable, careful not to let anyone get too close.
” He holds my gaze, somber in a room full of merry watchers.
“She welcomes our friendship, but she’s not open to anything more. Except now. With you.”
“We’re happy to see you getting a love story,” Sterne adds when I can’t find a response.
“And we’re happy to see her letting herself have one, too.
Nobody’s trying to make you uncomfortable by being here.
It’s a show of support—of community and celebration.
Two people we all know and love are dancing around a different sort of love, and that’s a beautiful thing to behold.
” Lower, he continues, “We just want to behold your joy, Fox, and hers, too. Some of us watch with hope, because if you two can make it? After being at each other’s throats for years?
After closing yourselves off for years? Then that means that maybe the rest of us lonely people could have a chance at love, too.
” He nods to Mr. and Mrs. Teague, a middle-aged couple tucked into a booth on the far wall.
“And some of us watch with nostalgia, remembering the days when their relationship was fresh and new and full of possibilities. We’re happy for you two, and we’re happy for what you represent.
It’s a joyous day in October, Fox, and it’s thanks to you.
” He lifts his bourbon glass. “So let us pour our money into your bar in celebration, and rest easy in the knowledge that when the bar closes, you’ll have your peace with Poem while we all go home and pray that the next celebration we have is our own. ”
He takes a swig of his drink while I stand very, very still, blinking fast and breathing hard.
Wolfe clears his throat. “Couldn’t have said it better,” he agrees, clinking his beer bottle to Sterne’s glass. “To celebrating the beauty in life.”
They drink again, and I tip my head to the ceiling, nostrils flaring.
“Do you mind if I talk to Fox for a minute?” Wolfe asks after a moment.
Sterne doesn’t reply verbally, but I assume he agrees when Wolfe calls for my attention. I drop my head, giving it to him.
“Since you’re already crying,” he starts, eliciting a scowl. I’m not crying. I’m blinking. “I figure now’s as good a time as any to apologize to you.”
I add glaring to my scowling. “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” I assert.
“I do,” he disagrees. “I’ve spent the last couple of weeks thinking about it and, truthfully, beating myself up about it.
Poem was right. I knew you were struggling and instead of helping you myself, I hoisted you onto her knowing full well that she was a big part of what you were struggling with.
Even before I caught you lobotomizing yourself, Almond and I knew that you weren’t doing well, and I didn’t do anything to help.
” He frowns, nose scrunching. “I thought I needed to let you work it out yourself. Give you enough time, and you’d realize how much you meant to us, you know?
That you’d just wake up one day and figure out that we think the world of you without me ever having to say the words out loud.
” He scoffs. “As if a person ever just woke up and knew they were loved, no outside affirmations needed. As if a person who felt unworthy of love was going to have an epiphany out of nowhere that, actually, they do deserve the affection they’re working so hard to earn.
” His hand fists around the neck of his beer bottle at the same time that mine fist at my side.
I blink, blink, blink, blink, blink.
“I know that you love me,” I say. “I’ve always known that you love me. You weren’t doing anything wrong by expecting me to accept it.”
“I was doing something wrong by expecting you to figure everything out on your own. I was taking the easy way out—the passive way out. I’m sorry for not doing the hard thing. I’m sorry for not helping you confront your fears and worries. I’m sorry for not being the brother that I should have been.”
There is only so much a man can blink, you know.
“Forgiven,” I declare. “You were doing what you thought was best, Wolfe. I don’t blame you.
Truthfully, I don’t know if I would have been receptive to whatever help you might have tried to give me.
In the end, though, it worked out exactly how it was supposed to work out.
I believe that wholeheartedly. I’m… not mended, exactly, but I’m on my way to believing that I’m not quite so bad as I thought.
I don’t know that I’ll ever fully believe that I’m worth all the effort and trouble I cause, but…
” I trail off, head tilting toward Poem where she serves the customers I’m ignoring.
“I’m learning that it’s not up to me to decide what I’m worth.
I have to let the people around me make their own choices.
All I can do is accept those choices or not—and when those choices are love? I’d be a fool to turn them away.”
He smiles, though not pleasantly. “I’m beginning to think we’re all fools one way or another.”
“Maybe,” I concede. “But we’re learning and growing. Wisening up.” I squeeze his shoulder, then muss his white hair. “We’ll get there, Wolfy. Together. Like we’re meant to.”
“Together,” he agrees, swatting my hand away. “From now on. Always.”
“Always,” I agree. “From now on.”
Together.