"Hey —" Maren appears on the stool next to me, cheeks flushed, half-empty cup of something aggressively pink in her hand. "There she is! Our raffle queen! Weekend getaway! Where are you gonna go? Can I come?"
"She literally just won it seven minutes ago," Luna says, sliding in on my other side. "Give her a second."
"Of course you can come," I say.
Maren shoots Luna a smugI-told-you-solook before letting out a squeal at a frequency that should legally require a permit.
Luna just sighs and calls Arthur over. "Can I get a gin and tonic? Also, great job with the bar."
"Thank you, Luna." He shoots me a look. "Gladsomeoneappreciates the craft."
I open my mouth to defend my earlier chortle, but he's already building Luna's drink, and I can't tell if he's actually offended or just winding me up.
He slides the gin and tonic across with a flourish just as Harper floats past with Ben in tow, both of them glowing. She squeezes my shoulder. "Beth, this is—I can't believe this. The whole thing. It's perfect."
"It really is," Ben says, his voice cracking with a suspicious amount of emotion. He looks like he might burst into tears at any second, and I’m honestly fifty-fifty on whether he’s moved by the sentiment or just fighting a sharp, phantom pang of gastrointestinal regret. "I’m just so relieved my potato salad catastrophe didn't cost us this evening."
"We don't speak of the potato salad," Harper says gently, steering him toward the dance floor.
Maren watches them go, chin in her hand. "They're so cute."
They are. And six weeks from now they'll be married, and I'll be standing right next to Harper, holding her bouquet, trying not to ugly-cry during the vows...
The letter in my back pocket suddenly feels heavier.
A beta in a black t-shirt walks behind the bar and nods at Arthur. Arthur claps him on the shoulder, says something I can't hear over the music, and rounds the bar.
He stops right in front of me.
"Looks like I'm a free man," he says, already bouncing a little.
"You seem awfully thrilled for someone who just claimed he was having the night of his life behind the bar," I chuckle.
"That's because I'm looking forward to something else." He grins and holds out his hand. "Dance with me,girlfriend?"
Something flips low in my stomach at he uttersgirlfriend.
"Let me finish my drink first," I say, my pulse picking up. "I'll be right there."
"You've got one song," he says, and then he leans in, his mouth grazing the shell of my ear. "Don't make me come back for you."
His fingertips trail across my shoulder as he pulls away, dragging a line of heat from my collarbone to the curve of my neck.
Then he's gone. Maren and Luna slide off their stools and follow, already bobbing their heads to the bass line, and I catch a glimpse of Ben and Harper out on the floor with Mason and Knox doing their version of dancing—which is basically Mason awkwardly nodding to do the rhythm of the song while Knox puts his arm up and down above his head.
I laugh. Seeing Knox and Mason on a VFW dance floor is a level of loyalty I didn't think existed. They’d probably rather be audited than dance like this in public, but for Ben, they’re doing it without a second thought.
I press my cold whiskey glass to my face and take a breath. I can think about the letter tomorrow and just let myself have fun tonight.
I tip the rest of the whiskey back, set the glass down, and slide off the stool.
At that exact moment, a hand closes on my shoulder.
My whole body goes tight before my brain has even registered the vaguely iron-y smell that comes with it.
"Beth," a voice smooths over my shoulder. I turn to find Gran standing way too close, his practiced, catalog-ready smile perfectly in place. "Quite the party, isn't it?"
"Thanks," I say firmly.
