Page 110 of Promise Me

Just the two of us, up early and enjoying our morning coffee while the town wakes up below us. The remnants of the local Fourth of July festival still line the streets from last night. The actual holiday festival for tourists happened last week over the real holiday, but our town loves to put one together for the locals. Any excuse, really.

Hudson has a booth for the bar at every festival, but from what I’ve seen the last few weeks, he lets his employees do all the face-to-face work.

“Yeah, I should come out here more. But I usually work so late that I miss the sunrise or the sunset. Sitting out here in the dead heat of the middle of the day just doesn’t give me the same vibes.”

“I don’t imagine it does.”

I sip my coffee and watch him.

His gaze drifts to where Bartley, Marty, and Phil are walking down the street toward us, most likely headed for the bakery. Brooke told me that each time they show up, they ask for me.

I’m ready to move on, but whenever someone tells me something like that, it makes me think I’m acting too quickly. I mean, I gave myself a month to remember and I still haven’t; now I just want to continue moving on. But what if I move on too fast and miss something? How do I know when the time is right?

“How did you know you wanted to open the bar?” I ask.

Hudson looks at me slowly, a lazy smile touching his lips. My question probably seems out of the blue to him.

He reaches down, grabs my chair leg, and pulls me until we are side by side.

“Your mind is hard at work already, huh?”

I nod.

“I just want to make sure I’m making the right choice and not rushing anything.”

“You think selling the bakery is rushing?”

I shrug. “Maybe. I know what I want to do, but what if I’m missing something on why I took over?”

He nods slowly. “I opened the bar because I needed a distraction.”

“Oh.”

“That’s not the glamorous answer you were looking for, but I knew if I was moving back home, I would need to stay busy. When I was looking for a place to live, the bar popped up, and it was pretty much a two-for-one for me. I could stay busy and not live with my dad again.”

“Is that what you think of it now?”

“Oh no, not even close. I like what I do. I like giving the locals and tourists a laid-back space to be in. I even like thethings you’ve done to the place. It makes me think I need to remodel a little.”

“Really?”

He nods. “People like the seating area you made. I need more of them.”

“Oh, you could buy that space from Mrs. Whittaker and expand it. Make that entire side comfortable seating. Oh, and add bookshelves! It would be fun. You could have sections based on drink names. Like, the spicy section could be tequila something, and the … why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because that right there is why I don't think you’re rushing the sale of the bakery. You don’t talk about it the way you talk about your Sips and Stories idea.”

“I wasn’t talking about Sips and Stories. I was talking about your bar. Although, it would be a cute idea to combine the bar and my idea. It would mean I still get my dream and so do you.”

Like before, he just stares at me with a dazed look in his eyes.

I’m boring him and totally steamrolling his bar plans and just assuming I’ll be in his future. I’m probably overwhelming him.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“What?” he asks as I turn away.

“I was getting carried away and overstepped on your plans for the bar.”

---