Page 16 of Only Fate

“The fried tenderloin is my favorite here,” Terrance says, swiping a menu from the basket in the middle of the table. “They have the best french fries too.”

When the server, whose name tag says Alicia, comes, Terrance orders the tenderloin while I go with a BLT.

I flip the menu to check out their drink specials. “What are your beer options?”

“We only serve Down Home Brewery beer here,” Alicia replies with a smile.

“It’s good stuff,” Terrance says before ordering a glass of Alicia’s recommendation.

I return my menu to the basket. “I’ll have the same.”

I’m usually more of a bourbon or whiskey drinker, but I don’t want anything strong. The local ale seems to be the preferred drink in Blue Beech.

Alicia tucks her pen behind her ear. “I’ll be back with your drinks, and the food should be up shortly.”

“I was never a beer man until I tried Blue Beech’s ale,” Terrance says. “This pub has been in the owner, Maliki’s, family for decades. His son opened Down Home Brewery, and this place hasn’t served any other beer since.”

Alicia returns with mugs spilling over with beer. It’s tastier than the cheap, watered-down shit I tried in college.

Terrance and I share law school stories. He tells me about life in Blue Beech and how he raised his two sons here. While neither no longer lives in Blue Beech, his grandson is a vet who splits his time between here and Anchor Ridge, a town nearby.

While my abuela is loud and sarcastic, Terrance is chill with a monotone voice. She wears bright, patterned clothing, and his wardrobe consists of beige and blazers that belong in the ’80s.

Our food arrives at the same time my mother and abuela join us.

“No, you cannot fire your real estate agent for suggesting you take better care of your houseplants,” my mother says as they sit.

“Fine,” my grandmother argues with a huff as Terrance kisses her cheek. “If he’s so worried it’lldetractbuyers, he can go water them his damn self.”

I take a bite of my sandwich and listen to them bicker about agents and whether she’ll drop the price if necessary. I nod, pretending to agree with what they’re both saying, but freeze when I hear, “Cheers to Essie for starting her new firm!”

I turn in my chair so fast that you’d swear someone punched me in the back of the head, and I search the pub for Essie.

When I find her, my body relaxes, and I smile. Essie’s beauty has always captivated me, and it’s no different now. Her brown hair is loose in curls, and she’s wearing a pink top with a tight black skirt. I wish I could see her killer legs, but the crowd cuts off most of my view of her.

There’s more to her than beauty too. Essie is wicked smart and kind—albeit not to me now—and our humor has always matched.

She used to be mine.

Sorrow hits me as I remember what I lost.

She raises her shot glass and toasts to her success with her friends. I can’t stop myself from lifting my mug and doing the same.

My abuela smacks my arm, breaking me from my trance. “Who’s that pretty girl you’re staring at?”

“Essie Lane,” Terrance answers for me.

“Do you know her, Adrian?” my mother asks, texting while keeping her eye on me.

I nod. “She’s my old dormmate, River’s, sister.”

“Hmm,” my mother hums. “Small world.”

“Essie just started her own firm,” Terrance adds. There’s no animosity in his voice about it. “She used to work at the same firm as Adrian, Adaway and Williams.”

My mother blinks at me and sets down her phone. From the look she gives me, I’m positive she thinks I came here for Essie.

Technically, I did.

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