Tonight has three purposes:
To give this town a taste of our draft beers, sold exclusively here.
Drive home the date we’re opening.
Kiss Magnolia and make damn sure she knows how much I want her.
If driving up to Pennsylvania and back taught me anything, it’s that I missed her. “We should’ve gone to the art thing,” Griffin comments as another car door opens and a chick with a wide-brimmed sun hat climbs out, although the sun has long since set.
My side-eye is strong at that remark. The bar is packed. Inside and out.
“Renee will be here,” I reply and then stare at the empty cup in his hand. There’s no doubt in my mind this place will be littered with them tomorrow when everyone leaves. Not that I give a shit about anything at this very moment other than Magnolia getting here. I’ll worry about cleaning up when the time comes tomorrow.
“They’re right down the street, we should have swung by.”
I remind him, “We did.”
“Peeking in the window so you could check in on her does not count.” He adds, “Chicken,” complete with a deadpan look.
Clearing my throat, I remind him that she told me it was fine not to come and that she’d be busy. I got back into town early this morning and slept most of the day away, so everything here was behind schedule. Still … he’s right, we could have dropped in for at least a look around, but the damn place was crowded.
“She’ll be here,” I repeat.
“The gala ended close to an hour ago,” is Griffin’s rebuttal.
“They said they’d be here,” I tell him to soothe his nerves, but I might as well be talking to a mirror. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m nervous to see them too. I thought for a half second earlier Magnolia would walk in while my mother was here, checking out the place. My own nerves were shot to hell at the thought of them bumping into each other. Obviously I knew that wasn’t possible, since I was stuck here setting up and she was handling her business down the way.
There’s a popular alternative station booming from the newly installed speakers, the ever-thickening crowd is chatting while drinking and we’ve got a bonfire in the back that most of the town seems to be drawn to. I’m surprised it all got approved so easily. Even the bonfire, which Griffin was worried about because of some law down here about open burning and recreational fires. With every mention of a paper that needed to be filled out, all I could hear was Robert’s threat about how he’s taking Magnolia away from me. Even if she says otherwise. The more I think about those two, the more Magnolia’s resistance to me makes sense.
She loves him.
The unsettling feeling at that thought forces me to adopt Griffin’s bad habit.
Tap, tap, tap. Our fingers don’t quit fidgeting. Even as an older gentleman tips his hat to us before starting a conversation about the menu of the bar and how we should use local vendors, my thumb carries on in time with the beat of the music.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Griffin says, maintaining the conversation well enough without me doing much of anything but nodding along.
My gaze is focused past the man’s jean jacket to the sidewalk where crowds come and go. The weather’s perfect, the atmosphere is just right, the beer’s damn good, and the town’s filtering in, making itself right at home for a night out in our bar.
But one thing, one woman, is missing.
As if on cue, her sweet voice comes from behind me and breaks up the conversation. “There you are.” Turning on my heel, I catch sight of Magnolia.
She must’ve come in through the back.
The cream silk top flows loosely down her front until it meets a high-waisted, pleated navy skirt. Her smile is shy as she tucks a strand of her hair, loose from the updo she’s got it in, behind her ear. The perfect accessory isn’t those fuck me heels she’s wearing, it’s the blush that creeps up her cheeks when she sees me. It does something to me, something soothing, yet enthralling at the same time.
She may have loved Robert once but, at the very least, she wants me right now.
“There you are,” I say, giving her those words right back to her and she brightens, her simper blooming into a full-blown grin.
She’s like sunshine. I remember thinking that years ago, when I was waiting at the bar but she never came. It was like I had a taste of sunshine for a single night. Since then it’s been only gray skies until recently.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she says and her statement is tinged with a shy nervousness. Even her smile that I love so much wavers. I don’t like the feeling it gives me.