33. Aiden
33
AIDEN
T he murmur of voices and the gentle hum of soft jazz echoed through the Red Lion as glasses thumped against wooden table tops and cutlery scraped against dishware.
“Your Hemingway Daiquiri, sir.”
Leaning up against the polished bar top, I smiled down at Cora as she passed me a glass filled with a pale pink drink. She was playing bartender for the evening. “Thank you, miss.”
“Enjoying the grand opening?”
“I am. Especially because there’s a lady behind the bar I’ve had my eye on for a while.” I winked at her, pleased that I could still make her blush as bright as her hair. “You think I have a shot?”
“Only one way to find out,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“You’ll have to make a move.”
“Right.” I leaned in, close enough that I could make out the glossy shine on her lips. “Should I just go in for the kiss?”
She smirked. “If you’re feeling that confident.”
I lifted my glass. “Liquid courage first.” I tasted the drink, pulling the glass away and frowning down at the contents.
“How is it?”
“Sweet,” I said, confused.
“I added some simple syrup.”
Ah . The corner of my mouth curved. “I thought Hemingway preferred a slightly bitter drink?”
“He did.” She winked at me. “But a little birdie told me you might prefer yours on the sweeter side.”
To think we’d actually argued about that once upon a time. I tasted the drink again. It really was perfect like this.
“Is tonight everything you hoped for?” I asked. She took a deep breath, looking out at the crowded space. Her space—in partnership, that is.
In the end, Dad had gone into business with both Cora and Jennifer. Cora handled the drink menu and the social media for the bar, Jennifer took charge of the kitchen, and Dad dealt with all the boring day-to-day matters. Together, the three of them made an amazing team. And with Maggie’s help, we’d shifted the vibe from the Rat Pack ambiance Dad was originally going for to the Jazz Age speakeasy of Cora’s dreams.
“It’s better,” she said.
“Yeah?”
She nodded, biting her lip, and it took everything inside me not to throw myself over the bar, take her into my arms, and kiss her senseless.
“I was worried about the turnout,” she admitted. “Worried that we hadn’t done enough marketing. But so many people came!”
I’d never worried about that. Almost everyone we’d reached out to for this exclusive, invite-only event had turned up. Frankly, if any more people showed up, we’d have to start turning them away or risk becoming a fire hazard. Dad and Maggie kept up a constant stream of chatter with the customers, encouraging people to try Cora’s literary-themed cocktails. The place had already gotten a lot of buzz, and plenty of people had come to see what all the talk was about—but we’d also gotten the crowd that really mattered, in the form of our nearest and dearest. I’d invited my entire group of friends and the Elixir team. Cora’s mom and Mr. Cranson had turned up, just as I’d hoped, and even Nana Dee had attended, parking herself at a table with Trent, Vincent, and Piper.
She wasn’t getting out as much lately, not since her diagnosis. Congestive heart failure—definitely not the minor issue we’d hoped for, but still treatable if we could convince her to get the surgery she needed. Operation Persuasion was still a work in progress, but none of us were giving up. She meant far too much to us for that.
“Can I get another round for the table?” Dominic asked, joining me at the bar. “Piper and Vincent are taking advantage of the fact they have a babysitter tonight.”
“Another Zelda for you?” I asked.
“You know it,” he said with a grin that, thankfully, didn’t look strained at all. Dominic hadn’t been very happy with us when we’d all sat him down to talk about his drinking. He’d insisted it was just the stress of the divorce that had caused the issues, which meant there wouldn’t be a problem anymore. But when he saw how genuinely worried we were, he agreed that he’d lock up his liquor cabinet for a while and prove—to us and to himself—that alcohol wasn’t a crutch he needed.
Paul and Chloe came up to help him carry the drinks. I clapped him on the shoulder in thanks. I’d never been so proud of Cora, and I was grateful for all the support my friends were showing the Red Lion tonight.
Cora beckoned me with a flick of her head as a surge of customers came up to take advantage of the open bar. “I think I’m gonna need some help back here.”
“On my way!” I slipped behind the bar, rolling up my sleeves and washing my hands at the sink. “How can I help?”
“How are you at cutting up limes?”
“Wedges or rounds?” I asked.
“Oh!” Cora said, impressed. “Look at you go.”
“I can even get fancy and go for half moons.”
She smiled sweetly at me. “Wedges will do.”
I set to work at a cutting board while Cora served up drinks to a steady stream of patrons. Jennifer appeared from the door to the kitchen, carrying a tray of appetizers destined for a boisterous party that had settled in the back corner of the bar.
“What are those?” Cora demanded. “And how do I get some?”
“Pretzel bite sliders with truffle aioli,” she answered. My stomach grumbled in response. “And I am susceptible to both bribes and begging.”
Cora grinned. “Snap a pic of those for me for Insta.”
“Will do,” Jennifer said, carrying the plate away.
She’d been ecstatic about the opportunity to curate her own menu and be her own boss. She’d told me her favorite part was that it gave her the ability to change up the dishes as often as she pleased, so she could always stay excited about what she was making.
I nudged Cora with my hip. “So, I’ve heard a rumor.”
She looked up mid-pour. “What rumor?”
“That the Masked Mixer might make an appearance later.”
“You never know,” Cora said, trying not to smile. “I am on pretty good terms with her.”
“Rubbing elbows with mixology royalty, huh?”
“I do tend to attract royalty.”
I frowned.
“ Cocktail King ,” she clarified.
I smirked, leaning over to kiss her. “Well, put in a good word for us then?”
“I could be convinced.” She gave me a sly smile. “Your Majesty.”
I kissed her again. “Name your price.”
She waggled her eyebrows. “Expect my invoice promptly.”
She reached down and squeezed my ass. I chuckled, shaking my head as we worked side by side. As the rush died down, I got a little creative behind the bar, mixing up a drink of my own.
“What are you doing over there?” Cora asked suspiciously.
“Prepping my own signature cocktail.”
She laughed, putting a bottle of Zelda back on the shelf. “It’s looking a little cloudy. Should I be concerned?”
“Just wait until you taste it,” I said, putting the finishing touch on the drink—a sugared grapefruit wheel. “Here. Take in the level of perfection.”
“Is this your audition? Looking to pick up a few shifts here to make ends meet?” she teased, regarding the drink with a raised brow.
I grinned. “Think I could make the cut? Get an ‘Aiden’s Special’ on the board right under the Hemingway Daiquiri?”
“It’ll have to pass a rigorous taste test,” Cora stated, all professionalism. “I can only accept the best.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to settle for anything less,” I said, talking about so much more than the drink. I held her gaze as I passed her the glass. She raised it to her lips and took a tentative sip, rolling the taste over her tongue.
She touched her fingers to her lips, looking at me in surprise. “Wow…I didn’t realize mixing drinks fell under your job description as CEO. This is actually really good.”
I beamed. “That’s high praise coming from you. Sure you’re not just saying that?”
She took another sip. “I am not just saying that.”
“Hmm…” I kissed her lips. “Are you really sure?”
She took another gulp to prove her point, pulling the glass away from her mouth when she heard something rattle at the bottom. She stared down into the drink, then looked at me, her eyes widening even more. I smiled softly at her, hardly able to contain my affection.
Cora reached her fingers into the glass and fished out the ring I’d hidden in it. She stared down at the diamond glittering under the bar lights.
“Is this?—”
I grinned at her shocked face.
But then a radiant smile overtook her confusion, and she shouted “Yes!” before putting the drink down and launching herself into my arms.
I laughed. “You didn’t even let me ask the question!”
“I don’t care. My answer is still yes!”
I clutched her to my chest, raising my arm above my head in triumph as people looked over to see what all the commotion was about. “We’re getting married!” I announced, hearing the cheers and applause as friends and family launched to their feet to congratulate us.
I pressed a kiss to Cora’s temple. She pulled back with a knowing grin. “Did you just hijack the grand opening for an engagement celebration?”
I shrugged. “Figured it was a convenient way to have everyone gathered without you knowing. Is that okay, future Mrs. Callihan?”
“It’s perfect,” she said, giggling. “Does this make you Mr. Masked Mixer?”
I pulled a small, masquerade-style half mask from my pocket, holding it up to my eyes. “I’m ready for my Instagram debut.”