Chapter 30 Bree
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How had three months passed in the blink of an eye?
I stood behind the bar and examined the entire space.
I’d paid the last invoice this morning after a walkthrough with Ronan last night.
It looked similar to the pub I’d inherited but with a new lease on life just like Nana Maeve had wanted.
Fresh paint still gave off that chemically aroma that burned my nose.
The bar had been refinished into a deep mahogany that made the old photographs behind me stand out against their oak frames.
Forty years of pictures that told the story of O’Sullivan’s and never failed to make me smile while wanting to cry.
I should’ve felt triumphant. I did, in a way. I’d done what Nana asked and met her deadline. I’d seen her vision through to the end, overseeing every last coat of paint and nail and light fixture.
The cream in my coffee congealed on top from sitting too long. I drank it anyway.
My phone lit up, Diane’s name and her tiny picture appearing on the screen where I’d propped my phone in anticipation of her call. “Morning.”
She beamed at me, glasses perched on top of her head and brown curls bouncing around her face.
“Holy shit that haircut is the bomb! You sure know how to shake things up when you go out of town. I have great news. The Harringtons want you on their project.” Her face filled the screen when she leaned forward.
“Tricia has been flooding my inbox with questions, and I’ve fielded her as long as I can.
She wants to know if you’re on board. Oh, the bar looks nice. How are things going?”
Diane in a nutshell was the epitome of a squirrel on crack. Efficient and organized but able to carry on five conversations at the same time without missing a beat.
I took another sip of my cold coffee, grimaced, and topped it off with fresh from the pot.
“Renovations are finished. I have a grand reopening tonight.” I left it there, my chest tightening the way it had been for days now.
My stay in Clover Hill was always temporary.
I’d known that from day one. I’d been telling myself that day after day, but now, seeing the end of it right in front of my face put me on edge.
The pub was back on its feet, doing better than ever–even though Tammy and Nana’s old friends didn’t come anymore–and I had every reason to head back to Boston and pick up where I’d left off.
Except for three things.
Three men.
Ronan. Finn. And Declan.
What they’d done for me after the salon incident threatened to undo every single bad thought about Clover Hill.
“Bree?” Diane’s voice cut through my reverie. “Come on, girl. You still with me? Did you lose connection?”
“I’m here.” I tucked my thoughts away and focused. “Can I work the Harrington project remotely like the others?”
“For a while, yes.” Diane’s lips puckered. “Tricia prefers a hands-on approach, but she wants you bad enough to do things your way.” A beat of hesitation tightened her boss’s forehead. “But I thought you were coming back.”
“I…” What did I say? I couldn’t tell my boss I’d fallen in love with three men and would rather turn my whole life upside down to move here.
That was crazy talk. They made me happy.
Deliriously, satisfyingly happy. Imagining my life without them turned my brain to mush, and I absolutely hated the idea of ending things with them.
But things hadn’t gotten better around town.
Bethany hadn’t done anything else to me, but the whispers intensified.
The weight of the town’s judgment weighed on me, pressing me into the ground.
I struggled to look anyone in the eye when they came into the pub, and it had gotten to the point that I noticed every absence.
It wasn’t just Tammy’s stool or the corner where she used to gather with her friends that remained empty.
Other regulars in the older crowd who’d been Nana’s friends stopped coming two weeks ago.
No one gave an explanation.
When I asked Declan, he shrugged and avoided the subject with nothing more than a quip that Clover Hill could get over its fucking self. Finn agreed wholeheartedly. Ronan…well, Ronan gave me that quiet look of his and promised it would all blow over.
“I have some stuff to wrap up here. I’ll talk to you as soon as I know something.” I focused on the phone.
Diane sat with her arms folded on top of the desk, her glasses reflecting her laptop screen. “I’m sorry, Bree. I hope whatever is bothering you works out. We miss you, and I hope you come back soon.” She tapped the screen, and mine went black.
Damn it. I might not have ruined things at my job, but Diane had to be getting tired of my non-answers. She’d been great this whole time, letting me work remotely so I could keep my income stable. She deserved better from me.
The quiet pub reminded me I didn’t have much time left to squander. Three months ago, I walked in here with a plan to hear the will and get out.
It wasn’t that easy anymore, even though I’d worn out my welcome and the residents of Clover Hill used their absence to make a point that let me know loud and clear they were done with me.
By the time the grand opening kicked off, I’d almost convinced myself it was all in my head. People packed into the pub until it was standing room only. Laughter and cheers rang out, along with the bell Declan banged behind the bar when someone bought a round.
“This is either inspired or completely insane.” I shouted at Declan in passing.
He shrugged and filled five orders from the taps. “Why can’t it be both?” He smiled and passed out the drinks.
I eyed the flyers in the front window. Finn had taped up a bunch around town and promised everyone from the fire house would come by.
Declan reached past me. “Jamesons getting low. You mind asking Ronan to grab an extra from the stock room?” He normally handled that himself, but I’d asked to do more of the running back and forth tonight.
“Sure.” I dropped my empty tray on the bar and washed the sticky residue from my hands before heading toward the back hallway.
Ronan stood at the edge of the bar, his arms crossed and a tight look pinching the space between his eyes. He caught sight of me and smiled. “Hey.”
“Hi.” I stopped a few feet away, using the space to remind myself I couldn’t kiss him, not here. I gave him Declan’s request and waited for his nod.
“Finn’s here.” He jerked his head toward the front.
Finn’s voice rose above the crowd, and a cheer nearly burst my eardrums.
I turned to look for him, catching sight of his station jacket first and following it up to his broad shoulders and blonde hair. A table full of women noticed him too, all but fanning their faces as hearts jumped from their eyes like the old cartoons.
Finn hung his coat by the door and rolled up his sleeves. Turning, his grin widened. “Looks like you need backup.”
“Because you’re late.” I tossed a towel at him.
He laughed and chucked it right back at me, walking across the pub like no one else in the world existed. His head didn’t so much as twitch or his eyes slide away from mine. He walked right up into my space, reached over my head, and pulled down his favorite mug from the top shelf. “I’m here now.”
Oh boy, was he ever.
I took a step back, my spine catching on the wall and digging into my skin.
Finn’s hand went to my side, and he leaned in closer. “Just getting the whiskey.”
“I see that.” I slid sideways, ducking beneath his arm and trying to ignore the hammering pulse throbbing behind my eyes.
I scanned the bar, the tension in my shoulders drawing them up.
No Tammy or any of her friends. Other people sat there, because I couldn’t tell them to leave the table open when we were at capacity.
There was not a single gray or silver head in the entire pub.
Hours later, still with no Tammy, the crowd thinned down to a more manageable level. The bell rang less often, but we’d served more tonight than we had since St. Patrick’s Day.
By ten-thirty, even the people enjoying the patio came in and said their farewells.
“Hell of a night.” Finn stopped beside me, his shoulder pressing into mine.
I nodded, arms crossed and gaze locked on the booth, the absences haunting me. “Hell of a night.”
Ronan moved past us, slapped Finn on the back hard enough to knock him forward a step, and grinned. “Let’s close up.”
“Yeah, Finn. Help Ronan close up.” I popped him in the ass with a twisted up towel.
He jumped and yelped. “I’ll pay you back for that.”
“I hope you do.” We were alone in the pub, so I let down all my barriers, and popped him again. We had plans to celebrate once we finished up the night. Even if the whole thing had been a disaster, we were going upstairs to celebrate the conclusion of Nana Maeve’s will.
My throat tightened.
Finn snapped a towel at me. “You’re messing with the wrong man, love. I’m a master at the wet towel snap.”
“Oh, yeah? Is that because you run around the fire house spending all your time perfecting it?” Declan rolled his eyes and started putting chairs away.
Benny had closed the kitchen hours ago, so we finished the cleanup in record time.
Ronan hit the patio light, turning off the string lights outside and leaving us in darkness with nothing but the light from the stairwell to guide us.
I took it all in one last time.
“You okay?” Finn leaned on the bar, one hand stretched toward me.
I took it and let him guide me toward the stairs. “Yeah. I’m good. A little sad. Overwhelmed. All the things, but kind of in a good way.”
There was no way he understood all the things I felt, and he didn’t try to placate me with empty words. Instead, he dropped his arm over my shoulders and squeezed.
Declan did the same from the other side. “Maeve would’ve loved it.”
“Yep.” I laughed, and for the first time tonight, it came out genuine. The ache in my chest remained, but the two married together, coexisting in a way I hadn’t expected. “She would have said it was all her idea. Claimed all the credit.”
“Absolutely.” Ronan took the key from my pocket and slid it into the knob he’d reinstalled after taking it off.