“Hey, Nick,” I said, trying not to let too much emotion one way or the other into my voice. “What brings you in?”
“I just needed a drink,” Nick said.
“There are a lot of bars you could pick in Astoria,” I said. “Yet you picked this one.”
“It’s the best one around,” he said, taking a sip.
“You’re not wrong,” I said. “But if you’re only here for the alcohol, I’m sure there are other bartenders who could make you a decent whiskey and soda. Why me?”
“Who said I thought you’d be working tonight?”
“If anyone else other than me knows my schedule, it’s you,” I said. “That’s why.”
“Fair,” he said. “Very fair.”
“So, what is it?”
Nick turned the glass around in his hand a few times while he pursed his lips to one side. I waited for him to say something, filling a drink or two while I waited. Finally, he sighed.
“Look, I know I was a bit unfair when I acted out toward you,” he said.
“A bit unfair?” I said sarcastically. “You basically accused me of being a predator.”
“I did not,” he argued. “I insinuated you were a traitor, though. And that was wrong. As much as I don’t like that you started dating my sister, you’re both adults. I think the thing that bugs me most about it is you didn’t tell me.”
“You know why she didn’t want to tell you is because of how you reacted anyway,” I said. “She knew that reaction was coming whether she told you or you just found out. But she wanted more time, to see if it was something real before bringing you into it. Because she knew it would be a hassle for you to find out, and if it wasn’t necessary, why do it?”
“But it was necessary,” Nick said.
“Was it?”
“You two are together, aren’t you?”
I hung my head and smiled for a moment.
“Not any thanks to you,” I said. “When you left, she did, too, and I didn’t hear from her for two weeks. She and I just reconnected, but I can’t tell you how close it was to never happening.”
“That was because of me?” Nick asked.
“Yes,” I said. “She felt so guilty, so upset at how you treated her, and how our relationship soured, that she ghosted me for weeks.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Nick said, his voice suddenly lower. There was still a swagger there, something I didn’t like, but it was nice to hear him apologize, even if I wasn’t sure he meant it.
I went back to helping other guests, and Nick had another drink. Then another. He was getting low on his third when I decided I wasn’t going to serve him anymore and had just told Ava the same thing. I was about to ask her to grab Mason to be the one to cut him off, since I figured me doing it would just cause extra grief, and I wasn’t going to ask Ava to do it for me. But coming from Mason, it would be smooth and charming and make it seem like it was Nick’s idea all along. Mason had a gift for that.
“Look,” Nick said, cutting me off in mid-whisper to Ava and waving to get my attention. “Look, Tyler, I am sorry. I am. Really. And if you want to be with my sister… if you really, really want to be with her… I’ll allow it.”
I rolled my eyes so hard I thought for a second that I could see my brain. As if Nick ever really had control over who Becca or I decided to date. Especially in dating each other. She might not feel comfortable, but that was her choice. Not his.
“Thanks,” I said, more or less sarcastically.
“I think I just got overprotective, you know?” he continued, slurring slightly. “After my divorce, I just… I just never wanted her to go through something like that. And then that bastard left her at the altar, and I was so worried about her.”
He swirled what was left in his glass around contemplatively. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand his point of view. Hell, I almost agreed with it. He was trying to be a good big brother, and I couldn’t fault him on that. In a lot of ways, it was what I would have done if I had a little sister.
“I understand being worried about her,” I said. “But you do have to know how you acted wasn’t okay.”
“I know, I know,” he said, waving me off. “She’s happy. That’s what matters. If Becca is happy, I should be happy. If she’s happy with you, I should be happy with you, and stay out of the way.”
“Not totally out of the way,” I said. “She still needs her big brother, and I miss my best friend.”
He shrugged and looked pained as he downed the last of his drink. I felt for him in that moment. Here was my best friend, dealing still with the divorce that had wrecked him so completely that he was a shell of himself for so long. A man who’d leaned on me during that time and was starting to round the corner into happiness, even if it meant risking getting hurt again. A man who loved his sister fiercely and was protective of her and felt like he failed her because he was battling his own depression and didn’t see the signs. Even if there had been no signs to see.