AGNES
“And the winner of tonight’s trivia night is the Bonnie Bookwyrms!”
I pumped my fist in the air as The Tipsy Thistle erupted in a mix of cheers and theatrical groaning. Beside me, Kaia was doing a victory dance that bordered on gratuitous, while Willow clapped with enough enthusiasm that one would think she had contributed more than one correct answer all night—though in all fairness, it had been about fashion history and none of us would have known that Coco Chanel popularized the little black dress in 1926.
“This is an absolute travesty,” Lachlan announced from his table. “Agnes is a professional historian. Surely we’ve all agreed she can’t join trivia nights anymore? That’s borderline cheating.”
“It’s not cheating, it’s strategy,” Sophie said sweetly. “Maybe next time don’t waste your first-round pick on Ramsay.”
“Hey!” Ramsay looked genuinely offended. “I got the football questions right.”
“There was one football question. You gotonepoint.”
“A crucial point.”
“That’s okay, baby!” Willow blew a kiss to Ramsay whose glower only deepened. “I only scored our team one point too. We still contributed. Don’t let ’em get you down.”
“This is why I don’t socialize,” Ramsay muttered into his pint glass, and I swallowed down a laugh.
If it had been any other night, and at any other time, I would say that life was almost normal. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine that this was how it could be. Trivia nights with friends. Fun days at the bookshop. Steamy evenings curled up with Graham in one of our flats above the businesses we both loved to run.
Graham emerged from behind the bar with a fresh bottle of wine and a grin that made my stomach twist with longing. He’d been working tonight, pulling pints and making change while simultaneously heckling all of the teams with impressive impartiality.
“Congratulations to our reigning champions,” he said, topping up my glass. “At this rate, you’ll have to start giving the other teams a handicap.”
“We offered to answer with our eyes closed,” I said, smiling up at Graham. “Lachlan declined.”
“Because that’s not a real handicap! You’d still know the answers!” Lachlan protested, and Sophie snorted.
“That’s rather the point of trivia, isn’t it? Knowing things?”
Lachlan made a sound of profound frustration and buried his face in his pint. Sophie patted his arm with exaggerated sympathy.
The pub was packed tonight, every table full, as trivia night had become something of an institution since Graham had started it over two years ago—a way to bring the community together, he’d said, though I suspected he also just enjoyed watching Lachlan lose. But now, with the game finished, people lined up to close their tabs and headed toward the door, offering their goodbyes on the way out. It was the way of small towns that were early to rise and early to bed, but I also suspected more than one local was leery about being out late at night around the loch.
I couldn’t say that I much blamed them.
“Right,” Sophie said, once the pub had largely emptied out and Liora and Torin were clearing tables, “I think we’ve got some business to discuss.”
“Order business?” Willow asked, immediately alert. Not everyone in the Order was here tonight, as Lia was running Grasshopper, and Shona had some film event with Owen in Glasgow, but the rest of the Order, plus Hilda, Archie, Matthew, and Lottie, were here.
“I’d say so.” Sophie’s eyes flicked between me and Graham.
“What?” I asked, eyes widening.
“Sophie just wants to know when you’re going to admit that you two shagged,” Ramsay supplied and I choked on my sip of wine while Graham sighed and plopped his bar rag on the counter.
“Really, mate?” Graham asked, his tone sharp.
“I think what Ramsay is trying to not remotely delicately say—baby, we’ve talked about this—is that it’s obvious to everyone that there’s been a new development in your relationship,” Willow supplied helpfully, leaning forward with a hopeful look on her face. “Are we correct to assume that you’ve, um, worked out your differences?”
“I’d say they have years of pent-up differences of working out to do,” Finn muttered, and Orla clapped her hand over his mouth.
“Ignore him,” Orla said, glaring at her love. “We’re just happy to see you both happy.”
“If that’s what you want, of course,” Liora said, raising her voice.
“Of course they want it. Can’t you see the little hearts circling their heads?” Lachlan said. I met his eyes, but he just smiled at me. Clearly, he was delighted at this development, but he didn’t know what I knew and while, on the surface, this development seemed great fun for everyone, it held a much more sinister undertone.
