Page 43 of I Saw You First

I open the copy of TC Weekly I grabbed at the front door and read an article about the Hometown League’s upcoming Fall Fest benefit at Lakeland Park. The write-up gives a brief history of the nonprofit and details about the event: free pumpkins for the kids, cider, apple donuts, brats and hot dogs, Battle of the Bands, a ball game with a few major leaguers.

“We’re incredibly proud of the work of the Hometown League,” said director of facilities Andre Schmidt, who recently joined the League after several years at the corporate office of Hometown Electronics, a major supporter of the nonprofit. “Fall Fest engages our community, provides a day of family entertainment, and serves to establish a significant financial foundation for the upcoming year.”

I bark out a laugh. I’ll bet Andre hated every minute of that interview. I flip through the rest of the paper, then fold it up and tuck it on the other side of the bar. I don’t know why I feel like I should protect Abbey from seeing it, other than a gut feeling that something wasn’t right there.

I smell Abbey before I hear or see her, which sounds completely Hannibal Lector, I know. Her perfume is like a ray of sunshine in a bottle. Even her hair smells good.

“Hey.” She slides onto the stool next to mine, then nearly slides right off again. I reach out to steady her, and her skin is soft and smooth and somehow buzzing beneath my fingers. “You okay?”

I hold onto her longer than necessary. I’m desperate for this, something, a connection, a friend. And ever since she “nearly died” at Ruh-Roh—a story she’ll tell anyone who’ll listen—and I held her in my arms, it’s gotten worse.

“Long day.” She settles onto the stool.

Lisa, the bartender, whose hair is a bright mermaid aquamarine, walks over with menus. “Chips and salsa?”

“Absolutely,” Abbey says, “and can we get an order of queso? Thank you so much.”

“Must be payday,” Lisa says.

Abbey grins. “I wish. We’re celebrating, so I’m going to treat myself.”

Jeremy should’ve given her a much bigger raise if queso is a treat.

“Celebrating?” Lisa looks from Abbey to me and back to Abbey, whose cheeks have turned salsa red.

“Good news at work. Right, Wil?”

“Right, and can we get separate checks, please?” I clear my throat. I want to pay, to treat her, but I’ll respect the boundaries that she’s set.

“Sure thing. Drinks?”

Abbey orders first—a house margarita on the rocks—and I order a Modelo Negra.

“Thank you for asking for separate checks,” Abbey says after Lisa walks over to the cooler, “although I do appreciate your offer to pay. I just don’t want anyone to think you’re treating me any differently than you treat everyone else.”

Lisa sets down a coaster and my beer and moves to the opposite end of the bar to make Abbey’s margarita. We watch in silence for a moment as she rubs lime around the rim of the glass and then tips it upside down into the salt ring, and I figure out what to say that won’t offend Abbey.

“Well, you earned it.” I take a swig of my beer. Maybe I should have waited for her to get her drink. I set it back down on the coaster and swipe at the condensation. “You doing okay? That was a lot of corporate higher-ups to deal with in one day.”

“Hmm,” she murmurs, “including the president and CEO. How are you doing after that little tirade?”

“Ah, you saw that.” I feel my neck heat. A lot of people have seen him lose his temper with me; I should be used to it by now. But the fact that Abbey witnessed it lands differently.

She nods.

The thing is, I know he’s a blowhard who doesn’t know squat about running a media department, even though it makes him and his company a shit-ton of money. I don’t say any of that, and I don’t expect her to share her opinion of him with me, either. It’s tricky, being the son of the revered Hometown CEO. Neither of us is in a position to be truthful to the other.

“I’m used to it,” I say.

“That doesn’t make it right,” she says quietly. “Why was he so upset? Ninety-four not good enough for him?”

He wasn’t upset about the score. He was upset that I hadn’t taken his advice and fired Aurora. “How many times do I have to tell you, Wil?” he barked. “Surround yourself with good people, and you can’t fail.”

That’s what I’m doing—for Aurora. That’s why we hired and promoted Abbey. I’m not ready to give up on Aurora yet. And besides, even if I had fired her, he would have found fault with something else.

I tip my head back and run a hand along the back of my neck. “Nothing’s ever good enough for him.”

Abbey must catch the finality in my tone because she doesn’t press for more. “Anyone else coming?”