Chapter 36 Brynn
36
Brynn
There’s music coming from downstairs.
It has a thumping bass that reverberates up through the floorboards, tickling my socked feet. I abandon my project, an Instagram reel featuring the updated decor of the bar downstairs spliced with photos of the original Buddy’s when it opened for the first time over forty years ago.
Although the new, updated Buddy’s has been open for a few weeks, the official grand reopening isn’t until this Friday, and I have been using every marketing tactic in my skill set to ensure that every single beer-loving human living in a fifty-kilometer radius knows about it.
After Josh and I reunited (and consummated our reunion on the wooden bar), we made the decision to move in together. It was mostly a symbolic gesture, seeing as we already shared an address, but the big, scary change came when we also decided to move up north so that Josh could be close to Buddy’s.
Being a Northern Ontario bar wench was definitely not the plan I’d had for my life. But I have been living here for almost four months, and if this place is not my happily-ever-after, it’s most definitely my happily-for-now. I’m drawing an income from renting out my Toronto townhouse to a lovely lawyer and her labradoodles. Josh and I live very frugally above the bar, which means I’m able to work at my fully remote marketing job for only three days a week, leaving ample time for entertaining bar patrons with my bottle-flipping skills on the weekends. Josh and I joined a curling league and are enjoying the laid-back routine of living in this low-drama small town. I can’t remember ever being this happy.
I shut down my computer and head downstairs.
Josh is behind the bar when I walk in. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he’s staring at the stage, where a band is playing their audition set. One of the first things Josh did when he took over was pull out some booths and build a small stage in the corner of the bar. When Buddy’s officially reopens, it will have live music every Thursday through Saturday, along with karaoke every Sunday and Wednesday night. Josh has promised to give me fair warning if he ever feels the urge to sing a love ballad.
“Hey,” I call to Josh, who turns at the sound of my voice and watches me as I attempt to crawl under the counter with the grace of a newborn baby antelope. He holds out his arm when I make it through, and I tuck myself underneath. My favorite place on earth.
My former favorite place on earth, Carson’s Cove, is still shrouded in mystery. I haven’t been able to bring myself to watch an episode since we got home. The only glimpse of Sheldon I’ve gotten since I stole his car happened by accident as I was watching an episode of Law & Order: SVU. He played an obsessed cyber-stalker. I had to change the channel—that wound was still a little too fresh—but in the brief few moments before I recognized him without his bleached-blond hair, I did hear him deliver a few lines. Enough that I’m confident he’ll get the credit he desperately wanted.
The band rolls into a new song. It’s a cover of the Weeknd’s “Blinding Lights.”
I press up on my toes to get closer to Josh’s ear. “They’re no Seth and the Hungry Dingos, but they sound pretty good.”
He plants a kiss on the top of my head and squeezes my ass. “You smell really good,” he tells me. “What is that?”
“Cedar Lumberjack. I bought my own stick. I was tired of smelling like a field of flowers, and I feel like I can pull it off now that we live up here.”
He buries his nose in my neck and kisses me softly behind my ear. A promise of what is to come later when we finally get upstairs.
The front door to the bar opens and a woman walks through. Her back is to us, and it takes a moment to place her until she turns around and I recognize Josh’s mom. She walks toward us, and in her hands is a white sheet cake, decorated with green icing that spells out May all of your dreams come true. In the center is a single white candle. Its wick dances with a tiny orange flame. She sets it down on the bar in front of us. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” she says to Josh as she reaches out to squeeze my hand. “I thought you both deserve a celebration for all of the work you’ve put into the place, and the sweetest little bakery popped up just around the corner. Everything in the window looked delicious and I couldn’t resist.” She nudges the cake toward us. “I know it’s not tradition, but why don’t you make a wish?”
Josh turns and looks at me.
I inhale, my mind swimming with a million ideas for our next adventure.
“On three?” Josh asks, smiling as if he knows exactly what’s going on in my head.
“One…two…”
We close our eyes, hold on to that feeling, and blow.