Page 108 of Best Friends, Tennessee

Finn cracked up next to me. “I said you should focus more on taking care of yourself, not that you need to become a sexless, meditating monk,” he said. “But I do think a little meditation might be good for you.”

Looking around the saloon now, I couldn’t believe I ever thought I’d dislike this place.

I’d only been back for a handful of months and already, I had to admit, this place felt like home.

Goddamn.

I’d been working at the art museum in Sable Valley for six weeks, and I already liked it more than any gallery job I’d had in LA. It was the opposite of pretentious—everyone who worked there seemed to actually give a damn about the art itself, and art students from the nearby college volunteered to help with archiving. I’d been mentoring a freshman student named Lexie, and she was bright, helpful, and a good learner.

My stay at Finn’s house had also been… extended.

Indefinitely.

I’d ditched the guest bedroom and had been sleeping in Finn’s bed every night, where he cuddled me incessantly. He told me that it was his prime duty to heat up my “icicle hands” every night, but I knew that even if I was as warm as him, he’d still cuddle me anyway.

And anytime Finn and I stopped by the Hard Spot, I swore it was like I’d stepped into my own little version of Cheers.

I liked being in a place where everybody knew my name.

I belonged. For the first time in my life.

I was allowed to be different, to be myself, to show up in clothes that looked different from the local cowboys in flannel, or to put on fun club music, even here.

In fact, I’d gotten Finn and some of the other Hard Spot regulars to enjoy electronic music recently. It all started with a club remix of Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire,” which got everyone dancing one night, and now they were open to more dance music when I put it on.

Mason was one of our most fun friends, now, too.

“I put twenty dollars on Hot Mess having sex by the end oftonight,” I told Finn, and he grinned at me.

“Pretty good bet.”

“You two don’t believe in me,” Mason joked, shaking his head.

“Put me down for forty bucks on that one,” Kane told us.

“Look at this,” Max told me, leaning across the bar and showing me some card game on his phone. “I think for the next game night, we should have a table for this—wait, what was that?”

Max looked over behind us toward one of the tall alcoves, surrounded by bookshelves. Something gold fluttered down from one of the top shelves, floating toward the floor.

“Don’t say it,” Kane told him, but Max was already ahead of him.

“Cat ghost,” Max said, coming around the bar and walking over to grab the thing that had fallen off a shelf.

He came back and held it up, and I remembered it instantly.

It was the big, gold glittery bow that had come on the bottle of champagne that I’d gotten for Finn.

It was from the first day I’d returned to Bestens.

“That fuckin’ thing,” Finn said, a smile on his face. “Got glitter all over us.”

“We still haven’t opened that bottle of champagne,” I said. “It’s in the cabinet at home.”

“We’ll save it for a super special night,” Finn assured me.

“I’m convinced the ghost in here is, like, aloveghost,” Max said. “I’m sure of it, now. It’s like a little Cupid or something.”

“Cat Cupid?” Finn asked.

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