Page 16 of Best Served Cold

Her expression tightens, but Sophie wraps an arm around me before I can get my balls lopped off. Her scent surroundsme—clean with just the slightest hint of beer. “We like Rob. He punched Jonah in the face for us.”

“It wasn’t only for you,” I feel compelled to admit. I’m done with her acting like I’m some kind of hero.

She tips her head at me, a silent question, acting like it’s just the two of us in this whole place.

“My dad did the same thing to my mom with Jonah’s mother. I’ve never thought much of Jonah, but after all the trouble our dad’s cheating caused, you’d think he would have learned something.”

A stricken expression crosses her face, her lips parting. “Oh, no. But his mother’s so…”

She trails off, as if she can’t find a word for the woman. Fair enough. I’ve been trying for decades.

I glance at the three of them, cozy around the table, and sense the obvious—it’s time for me to go.

Sophie’s arm is still around me, a testament to her tipsiness, so I turn to Briar, who seems like the type to have a cabinet full of tinctures at home, as opposed to Hannah, who almost certainly has a flask in her purse. “Can you make sure she gets home safely?”

“You’re leaving, Rob?” Sophie asks, sounding thrown by it. “Will I ever see you again?”

This morning, I wouldn’t have cared much about the answer to that question, but I’m invested now. I want to know how this plays out for her. And from the way she asked it, she cares about the answer too.

I smile at her. “We’re playing at the Buchanan Brewery tasting room in a few weeks. Maybe you’ll be working that night. I’d buy you a drink if you hadn’t already told me you don’t drink on the job.”

Hannah snaps her fingers in recognition and points at me. “Ah, you’re the guy in that band. Garbage Fire.”

“That’s not very nice,” Briar says, scrunching her nose.

Smiling, I say, “It’s the name of my band, and no, it’s not very nice. But it seemed like a good idea at the time. Don’t get into too much trouble, ladies.”

Sophie surprises me by hugging me one-armed before letting go. Peering into my eyes with those big blues of hers, she says, “Thank you, Rob. I think we restored some truth today, don’t you?”

Something softens in my chest as I smile back at her. “Yeah, I’d say. I’m never going to challenge you to beer pong. You know, I’m starting to think you might be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, Pollyanna.”

I get up to leave with the ice pack pressed to my hand, but I find myself glancing back when I’m a few feet from the table. Sophie’s talking to the other women, her hair hanging around her face now, more down than up. Her eyes are big and bright and full of life. She’s going to be okay. For some reason, that’s important, possibly because I don’t want any more reasons to be ashamed to be a Price.

On my way to the door, I look for the owner and find her in the middle of a deeply personal conversation with a woman who’s unloading about her stalled-out sex life. A middle-aged man is sitting at the table with them. Judging from their wedding rings, the conversation is abouthim, but he’s playing blackjack on his phone while he disinterestedly eats a cookie.

I pause by the table, waiting for Dottie to notice me. She glances at me, and before I can even make a gesture, she lifts a finger and tells the woman, “Put a pin in that thought, dear. I have to help a friend, but I’m going to prepare a pot of jasmine tea for you. Very sensual. It should help you reconnect. And make sure you keep taking that supplement, Bradley.”

He doesn’t react whatsoever, which suggests apathy is the real problem.

Clucking her tongue, Dottie leads me to an empty table, then sits and gestures for me to do the same in the spindly wicker chair across from her, which looks like it has a fifty-fifty chance of disintegrating under me. This suggests a longer conversation than I was looking for. But I don’t want to continue the Price family tradition of being a shitty person by ignoring an old lady. So I sit across from her and say, “I don’t want to keep you, but I’d like to pay the tab for the table back there. Whatever they want.”

I point to them, grateful to see there are still no tears. Briar’s the closest to crying, I think, but I’m worried about what’ll happen to Sophie once she’s alone and the adrenaline of this morning runs low. She’s a whole lot more complex than I thought she was, but she still has a soft side.

Dottie beams at me. “Oh, howkindof you. Which of the young ladies are you in love with, dear? No, don’t tell me. I enjoy guessing.”

I should stop her, but I don’t. Call it curiosity.

She strokes the crystal pendant around her neck as she peers back at them, then nods in agreement with herself. She fans herself. “Dear me, it’sSophie, isn’t it? I just love that girl.”

“Uh…she was engaged to my brother,” I say, scratching my chin. “I’ve never thought of her that way.”

Dottie lifts her eyebrows, an amused expression forming on her face. “But you don’t think of her as family, do you?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I want to…you know…date her or whatever.”

“Give yourself time, dear boy.”

I decide not to get into a circular argument that could last hours, so instead I pull out my credit card and give her the information.

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