Chapter 18 #2
I laugh, end up choking on my food, and have to beat my chest to clear the lump in my throat.
“I’m not often the bartender. I own the bar and my son manages it because he’s retired.
I help out when I’m needed or bored. As for being invited, that’s who Josie and I are.
Bex—” I nod toward her. “She’s also new in town and we figured this would be a nice little get together. ”
“It’s all your family,” she points out.
I pretend to look. “You’re new in town, so I’ll tell you now, in case you don’t know, my family is da bomb.
Legit coolest family in Beaumont. My wife’s amazing.
My kids are the best. My daughter-in-law rivals all daughters-in-law.
My niece is fierce and her husband is one of a kind, and then there’s my nephew.
” I point at Quinn. “He’s married so don’t get any ideas, but he’s the nicest guy you’ll ever meet. ”
Teagan looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
I probably have.
“And Mr. Ashford . . . how does he fit in other than dating your wife at one time?”
“And being my high school rival,” I remind her.
She doesn’t look amused.
I sigh heavily. “He’s family. As much as I hate to admit it, he is.”
“Because he raised Noah?”
Now I’m the one looking at her funny. “How’d you know?”
“My son heard Noah calling Mr. Ashford Dad one day at practice and referred to Mack as his brother. I asked around. It’s not a secret.”
“There aren’t any secrets in Beaumont. Also, call him Nick.”
“Nick,” she says as if she’s trying it out for the first time.
“But yeah, I was an idiot. He raised my boy. That’s that.”
She accepts what I’ve said, and I think we’re done talking until she asks, “And the two of you are all right now.”
“We tolerate each other. And I returned the favor when he got divorced. It works for our family.”
“I thought my life was messy.”
“The joys of a small town. Everyone knows everyone and everything,” I say.
Teagan and I talk a bit more until Noah says he needs me. He wants my ruling on a quarterback he thinks is overrated. Bex and Elle corner me together now, tag-teaming me with ideas, and I tell them both to talk to each other and leave me out of it, which they were already doing.
Around the time the food’s gone, Quinn brings one of the guitars up from the studio in the basement. Justine sits next to him and the two start to harmonize. Elle sets up her phone to record, saying this is prime social media content and fears the wrath of Paige if she doesn’t capture this moment.
Everyone ends up in the living room, listening. Peyton and Noah are swaying together, and Ben has his arm around Elle.
Josie pulls her phone out and calls Katelyn, putting her and Harrison on video chat so they can see their son and daughter-in-law perform.
When they’re done, everyone gives them a massive round of applause. Quinn’s cheeks redden and he ducks his head. He stands and holds the guitar out for me. I shake my head.
“Come on, old man. One.”
Justine starts singing one of 4225 West’s hits—“Painkillers.” It’s another one I wrote about Josie.
Honestly, most of the songs I wrote were about her, and they will continue to be.
Justine leaves me no choice but to sit down next to her.
She begins to hum while I tune the guitar to where I need it.
The room goes quiet when I strum the first note, everybody listening, and I sing it with Justine offering back-up. I don’t mind because she has a beautiful voice and knows exactly how to add to the song.
My voice isn’t what it was, mostly because I didn’t get a chance to warm up, nor have I been practicing.
Mid-verse, I look over at my wife. She’s standing with our son; his arm draped over her shoulder. I keep my eyes on her, on Noah, until I finish the song. It felt good to sing, to play in front of people.
The room goes quiet and then I hear, “We’re not retiring.” It’s Harrison, still on video chat, but now Peyton’s holding the phone.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say.
For a moment, I’m reminded I’m just a man who used to do this for a living, and I still want to do it.
Maybe the band does small venues, places like Ralph’s or the café Quinn used to play until his sister drags him in front of the people that now make up his band.
There’s a sense of freedom there, being able to pick and choose when we want to perform.
Quinn, Justine, and I perform a few more songs, but this time together. When we’re done or on a break, who knows with Quinn, I head over to the drinks and grab a bottle of water. Noah follows.
“I wanted to see if you’re okay,” he says as he refills his cup with ice and soda. “Grandma said . . .” he pauses and sighs. “Well, I guess you know.”
“I do. I don’t think she’s wrong. She knows his voice better than anyone’s.”
“I don’t want to meet him,” he says. “If it comes up and you decide to talk to him. I’m not sure forgiveness lives within me.” Noah hangs his head. I pull my son into my arms and hug him tightly.
“I’d never ask you to do anything you don’t want.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
We mingle and encourage everyone to do the same. A few more people come over. Trudy and her husband, some council members, and our neighbors. I feel better now, especially since Teagan said it was all my family, now that others are here.
I work the room, trying to make my way to Nick or Teagan, whoever I can encounter first. I catch them together on their own and eavesdrop on their conversation. They’re talking shop. It’s all about the school bell schedule, the fundraiser Josie roped Nick into, and a teacher Mack doesn’t like.
I want to put my foot squarely up Nick’s ass, but refrain. He doesn’t know Josie and I are trying to get him to see what’s right in front of him, and it’s not like I can blurt it out. “Hey, man, date her!”
Nope, that would be too easy. This might be one of those moments where I say it on the radio and pray, he’s listening.
I move around, visit with others, and call Harrison and JD to give them shit for missing my party. I do everything I can to put as much time as I can between my last visit with Nick and Teagan.
The next time I find them, they’re standing close together, and my man has his arm on the wall and he’s leaning in. I feel like a proud papa and want to slap him on the back encouragingly, but I don’t.
I pretend I’m looking for something near him. They both stop talking.
Rude.
I give up and head toward the kitchen where Josie’s filling the ice bucket. “It’s working,” I tell her as I kiss her cheek. “They’re finally talking.”
“You’re a good man, Liam Page.”
“Call me Rockstar, and I’ll show you how good later.”
I don’t wait to hear her say it because then it’s game on. We still have a house full of people and it would be incredibly rude if I carried my wife upstairs and let her have her way with me.