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I nod, glancing around and taking it in myself for the first time, having been distracted when we first entered.
The Kelso Barn has sat empty at the very end of Main Street for as long as I’ve been alive, but I’ve seen a few photos at Town Hall of what it used to look like in the early 1900s. The work that has gone into making this place a brewery is astounding. From the beautiful way the old barn look is preserved to the mixture of modern finishes, all blending with warm, inviting furniture and the large brewing equipment against the wall…it’s stunning.
“You gonna talk to him?” Nicole asks as we wait for our beers a few minutes later.
My eyes flick to Nicole’s, and I see her watching me with a smirk.
“Who?”
“She says ‘who’ like I could mean anyone else.” Nicole shakes her head, laughing.
Thankfully, the bartender drops a dark beer in front of me at exactly that moment, and I dig into my purse and grab some cash.
“Thanks so much,” I say, passing it over the counter. Then I look at Nicole. “I’ll grab a table, and I suggest you find a new topic or find somewhere else to sit.”
Nicole laughs again, knowing my bark is worse than my bite, and I leave her behind to put in her own order as I snake through the crowd looking for somewhere to rest my butt. I’m not surprised this place is so busy tonight. It’s the first brewery to ever open in Cedar Point, and when you’re a local in a small town with only so many places to visit on a night out, having a new option is life-changing.
I spot a couple getting up from a two-top in the corner and snag it as soon as they’re gone, settling into one of the beautiful wooden chairs. Taking a sip of my beer, I wait for Nicole to join me and replay my conversation with Bishop for what feels like the thousandth time in two days.
He seemed so casual, talking to me outside the studio then babbling on about the baseball team as he walked alongside me through the campus. I know it’s been four years and maybe I should be able to just shoot the shit, but it didn’t feel that way when I saw him. Seeing Bishop again brought back all the pain of that autumn afternoon when he broke up with me over the phone.
“It just feels like it’s not working,” he said, like we were some sort of machine with broken parts and there wasn’t a way to fix it.
I don’t know…maybe the fact that we’ve never talked about what really happened back then has left everything feeling too raw and unresolved. Or maybe I just loved him far more than he loved me.
“Your man isn’t the only handsome bachelor here tonight.”
Nicole plops down in the seat across from me, a pale ale in hand.
I groan. “Don’t call him your man. I don’t want anyone to hear you and think I’m the one calling him that.”
She just rolls her eyes. “Sam is here. That was my point.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I spot him at the bar. He catches my eye and raises a hand in a friendly wave. I nod at him then look back to Nicole, a thought occurring to me.
“Bishop’s not a bachelor.”
Nicole pins me with a look. “That’s what you took away from what I said? My point was Sam, not Bam. Sam, with an S. You told me to find a new topic and I did.”
My lips turn up at the sides.
“But if you’re going to bring it up,” she continues, “Bam and his girlfriend broke up right before the draft. Apparently he wanted the freedom to bang whoever once he had a bit of fame.”
My brow furrows. “Who told you that?”
“Danielle.”
I roll my eyes. “Danielle likes to come up with the worst-case scenario for everything. If she can make it more dramatic, she will.”
“I know. I’m not saying it’s true, just repeating what I heard.” She pauses, and we each take a sip of our drink. Then she speaks again. “Besides, isn’t that what you assumed when you guys broke up? That he wanted the freedom to…play the field at college?”
I clench my jaw and roll my glass between my palms, staring down into the dark brown liquid.
“No. Bishop would never do that,” I say. “He just…wouldn’t.”
It might have been my greatest fear, but I never really believed it was true. Bishop might be a charmer, but he’s not a sleazeball. He wasn’t ever the ‘play the field’ kind of guy when we were younger. We dated for two years and were friends for years before that. Not once did I worry that he wished he were free to screw around with other girls.
We were kids back then, though, and it’s been four years since the last time we talked. A lot can happen over that much time.
