We’d celebrated that good thing last night with a farewell party here at the shop. Nothing big, nothing fancy. Just the staff, the Coopers sans Caleb, though he’d FaceTimed for a while, a few of our regulars, and close friends. Keva had shown up with Grady and trays of potato chip–crusted cheese and broccoli casserole in tow, which they’d insisted was the perfect pairing for the occasion. They’d been absolutely right.
A little part of me had wondered if Sebastian would show up unexpectedly, the way he had for all of our other events.
He had stayed away, and I’d told myself I was glad.
The party had been a blast—the perfect sendoff for thirty-nine years of serving champagne to Midtown. I’m glad we had it when we did, on the eve of the store closure, rather than after the doors had shuttered for good. It allowed me to show up for work today—for the last time—with the laughter and company of last night fresh in my mind. To somehow get through this day with a smile.
To get to this point. This moment.
Lily reaches out and squeezes my hand as we stand shoulder to shoulder staring at Bubbles’s front door. Robyn and Josh are already gone for the day—no, for good. Behind me, I hear May chattering under her breath, trying to find her lipstick in her purse. Alec’s around too, a calm, reassuring presence.
“You want me to do it?” Lily asks gently when I don’t move.
I shake my head. “No, no. I just…” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Would it be okay… would you mind if I did this part alone? I think I need some time, just me and the store.”
She squeezes my hand again. “Of course.”
“Are you sure? This is your place too—”
“No,” she says softly. “It hasn’t been my place for a long time. And it never was, not like it was yours. Nobody should have to end a long-term relationship with an audience.” Lily turns around to May and Alec. “Pack up, guys. We’re headed out.”
May pulls her lipstick out of her purse with triumph. “Just as soon as I’m dressed…”
She adds a thick layer of bright magenta and makes a kissing noise in my direction, then drops the lipstick back into her purse to get lost again—why she doesn’t keep it in a side pocket, I have no idea. She picks up her bright purple trench coat and bag and comes toward me.
“You enjoy your alone time, love, but you need someone to cry on, you come by my place, okay?”
I smile and nod, not really trusting my voice at the moment. She puts both hands on my cheeks, her usual warrior expression unusually soft. “He’s proud of you,” she whispers. “Your mama too. They’d want you to choose you.”
I manage another nod, my eyes watering this time, and she pulls me forward, pressing a kiss against my forehead. “Remember. My place if you need it. We’ll get drunk, order cheese fries, and watch Katharine Hepburn movies.”
She turns to leave, and as I’ve been doing all day, I try not to think about the fact that I’ll never see her walk through that door again.
Lily and Alec approach me next. Together, but not, and I don’t have the emotional energy to deal with that right now. So I let them hug me. I see Lily’s eyes water and lift a finger. “Don’t. We can’t do that.”
“Right, I know.” She sniffles.
Alec pulls me in for a last hug, then kisses my cheek. He doesn’t tell me he’s there if I need him, but I know. I know they both are.
He holds the door for Lily, who starts to exit, then pauses in the doorway and turns, her eyes taking in the empty shelves. The last remaining boxes I need to pack. Alec and I don’t move or speak, letting her say her farewells, not just to the shop, but to a stage of her life—our lives—now closed.
She nods once, mostly to herself, and steps out into the fall evening air. Alec gives me one last smile, then follows his wife out. Through the window I see him reach hesitantly for her hand. See her head snap up in surprise. See her fingers intertwine with his.
The simple, sweet gesture, one I’ve seen thousands of times over the years but not often enough lately, hits me right in the feels. And the emotions that have been teetering on a tightrope all day fall.
It’s not a sob fest. Just a constant stream of quiet tears that I don’t even fully register until the teardrops dangling off my jawline start to tickle. I wipe at them, but they keep coming.
With a quiet sob, I step forward and reach for the We’re Open sign shaped like a champagne bottle.
I take a deep breath. I flip it.