Page 62 of Bourbon and Proof

I try not to hear the accusations that live underneath those words, things I’ve been hearing time and time again, like,“your father ruined this place”and“Fiasco will never be the same.”

I feel it too. Midnight Proof is just barely breaking even. Opening a speakeasy in a bourbon town was smart, I’ll toot my own horn for that one, because even in a down economy, the place still managed to usher in drinkers who wanted to either forget the day or celebrate when it was over. It’s my fifth year in business but only the first it’s not profitable. Luckily, I don’t need to consider something as drastic as closing. Not yet, at least.

“I’m not the only one,” she says. “The creamery cut back its hours.” She nods toward the front window. “I know Dugan’s Hardware is planning to sell. And the girls at Crescent de Lune tell me all the time how they’ve cut their batches down significantly.” That hits me out of nowhere. The bakery is in my building, facing my speakeasy, and the girls haven’t said anything to me. “Fiasco’s having a rough go of it, and this time, it isn’t one I think I can recover from.”

I hate hearing it. I feel responsible. There’s a part of me that thinks if I had only paid more attention or had done something different, maybe fewer people would have gotten hurt or would be hurting now because of the mess my father created.

I follow her back to the fitting rooms, noticing how much has been removed from the front of the store. More clearance racks than new arrivals.

“My sister is down in Nashville. We’ve been thinking about doing an online store for a while until we can manage a storefront again. Mom would be sad to see this place close, but I need to live, too. Can’t keep living for other people.”

She wipes the corner of her eye, and then brings me my garment bag. “That’s my sad situation.” Seeming to shake it off, she gives me a warm smile. “In the meantime, you went ahead and found one of the prettiest dresses I think I’ve ever seen. Far sexier than the usual Derby wear.” She plucks a small box from the top shelf. “But for you, Hadley, it’s the perfect choice. The hat too.”

I think about what she said, and I can’t help it, I want to help.

“Loni, what if there was a way to—” But my words get cut off by the front door shoving open, knocking the bell off the top clear across the room as Hawk barges inside.

“You married him,” he says loudly, his chest moving up and down as if he ran here.

Eyes widening, I glance back at Loni. She’s holding her phone to her chest, trying to decide if there is going to be a problem here.

I’m not supposed to meet up with him for another hour, but it doesn’t matter now. He already knows. “Hawk,” I say with a tight-lipped smile. He doesn’t really have a right to be so angry. We weren’t together, but I understand him being hurt. “I’m so sorry you found out before I could tell you?—”

“How long?” he bites back. And without leaving room for a response, he stalks closer. My nerves ratchet as I move a few steps back. His body language is all wrong, and I don’t think he wants an answer, not truly. This isn’t a version of him I’ve ever seen.

I glance at Loni again, and then her phone, silently conveying to use it if this gets any louder. Or if he gets any closer. As much as I don’t think this man is capable of being violent, I learned my lesson a long time ago not to underestimate someone.

“How long, Hadley?” he presses in a curt tone. With his hands on his hips and adrenaline so clearly pumping through him, in the way he was breathing and gritting his teeth, it’s the most worked up I’ve ever seen him.

Vinny, from the flower shop next door, lingers nearby. I feel a little relieved by the way he’s watching and how he’s angling his body inside the doorway. He knows something’s wrong here.

“I was hoping we could talk over a coffee...” I say softly. “I was planning to meet you after I picked up my?—”

“How.Long?”

My brow furrows at him cutting me off. But I shake my head and step closer to him. Apparently, we’re doing this here with a little audience. Fine. “Not long. It wasn’t like I was with the both of you. But I handled this really poorly.”

I lift my hands, trying to diffuse how intense this is feeling. I owe him an apology for not telling him when things were done and that I was moving on. If the tables were turned, I would be disappointed. Then again, it was only ever meant to be fun. But I’m realizing with certainty, it was more than that for him.

He laughs to himself. Only, nothing here is funny. “You use people,” he says, shaking his head. “Why am I surprised? You’re just like your father in that way.”

I flinch back.Fuck him!That’s probably the meanest thing he could have said.

“That’s just plain mean, and you know it,” I say more firmly, standing taller. I know I messed up, but I’m not going to cower and listen to him stack me up next to a man who stole, blackmailed, and fucking murdered people. “Like I said, Hawk, I wanted to tell you in person, not over text. I’m sorry you were blindsided by this?—”

“You know he’s been paying for it? For fucking years,” he spits out with a smirk. His tone is laced with such disdain that I almost can’t keep up with who he’s talking about.Ace?

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Hawk cups his hand across his mouth, holding his next few words. Now I’m curious and eager to hear everything.

“Might be worth taking a walk, Chief,” Romey says, walking into the shop with Prue on her side and Marla in hair foils on her heels. The conversation must’ve easily carried next door to Teasers.

But Hawk keeps his stare on me. I can see him weighing whether or not he should listen and leave, or finish what he was about to say.

“Go ahead,” I taunt. “What. The. Hell. Does. That. Mean?Whohas been paying forwhat?”

He shakes his head and turns to leave. Like riling me up and spitting out accusations is enough to make his fragile ego feel better. Over his shoulder, just as he shoves past Vinny, he yells to me, “Ask your husband.”

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