Page 73 of Call It Serendipity

I shrug. “Sure, in college I was a brewmaster’s apprentice. I spent plenty of time with equipment like this.”

“How long did you do that?”

“I worked at the brewery for a few years,” I tell her, closing the distance between us once more. She turns to face me, leaning back against the tank. It makes her look smaller than usual. Adorably so. And it’s enough to lift the corner of my mouth when I admit, “But I only got to apprentice for a few months before Dad tightened the leash and pulled me back in.”

“Yeah,” she starts with a frown, “I’ve been curious about that.”

“About what?” I plant a hand on the shining metal, close enough that she rolls her head to the side, resting against it.

“Why you went to work for your dad. You’ve mentioned a few times that you don’t love it.”

My other hand aimlessly fiddles with a button on her jacket. “That was the deal,” I say. “He paid for my college as an investment in his company’s future. When I was eighteen it sounded like a great idea. But then I got out there on my own and started learning about the other routes I could take. I started learning about myself, too, I guess. I tried to cancel the deal after I graduated. Offered to pay him back instead.”

“But he didn’t want the money back,” she guesses.

“No”—a dry laugh escapes me—“he did not. Although, at first, I thought I was in the clear. I had a taste of freedom. But really, he was just busy wrapping up a project in London. As soon as they opened the doors there, he came back to New York and called to collect me.”

“And you never got to create something for yourself.” Her mouth falls open as a realization washes over her. “Wait, is this what you would have wanted to create?”

I smile wishfully down at her warm gaze. “Tad and I had quite the impressive list of ideas. And a brewery was on there, yeah. But I never actually did any of the important work. I was only ever an apprentice, so I don’t think I could pull off being a brewmaster now.”

“It’s easier to believe, isn’t it? That we aren’t capable of something. It sounds better than admitting we’re just too scared to try something new.”

“If we don’t take the risk, we can’t get burned,” I agree, thinking of her fears over the art gallery earlier tonight. “The difference is, you can do it. You are doing it.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll never be all the things I want to be. But I know the feeling of being in my studio—putting paint to canvas—is my favorite feeling in the world. And you should get to find yours too.”

I lift my hand to trail my thumb along her bottom lip, memorizing its perfect form. And then I kiss her before I do something rash like admit that being with her is becoming my favorite thing in the world.

41

“How was the rest of your night?” Taylor prods shamelessly. She has that knowing smirk on her face, the same one she’s had since childhood. And for added measure, she nudges my shoulder as she passes by me at the kitchen table and heads for the coffee pot.

I set aside my crossword puzzle and take a sip of my own freshly poured cup. Last night was perfect, I think. Being back with Lucy felt like a breath of fresh air.

But what I say is, “My night was nice. What about yours?”

“Fine.” She shrugs. “Other than it being the earliest I’ve ever turned in on Halloween because everything in this town closes at ridiculous times.”

“Didn’t you say just last night that Ellicottville is growing on you?”

She narrows her eyes.

“That it was charming, even?”

“Well, I spoke too soon.”

The corner of my mouth twitches. “Of course.”

Taylor crosses the room, Charlie in tow, and pulls out a chair at the kitchen table beside me. Bear is already laying at my feet, and my smile grows as I watch the two dogs settle in with their heads pressed together.

“I think it’s time for me to go back to the city.”

My attention flicks up to find a perfectly serious expression on Taylor’s face. “Because of the lack of nightlife?” I ask.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I’ve been thinking about it lately. I even applied to some of the animal shelters there.”

“That’s great,” I tell her with genuine pride. “I think you could be really good doing that work.”