Page 33 of Honeyed

This is where we downed one too many tequila shots during the big football championship five years ago and ended up having to book hotel rooms because we couldn’t even walk the couple of blocks over to the friend’s place we’d been crashing at. Then there was the time he challenged me to a wine tasting, and if I could guess the correct type of wine, he’d serve my weekend shifts at the pizzeria for a month. I ended up sleeping in blissfully on those couple of Saturdays.

While I love coming here, and it reminds me of the bond we have, it’s not without its thorns. Nights where I watched him flirt with other women as they slipped him their numbers. Evenings when I thought it would only be the two of us and a couple of his buddies would arrive.

“You two look too chipper to sit with me.”

My oldest brother, the growliest son of a bitch I’ve ever had the pleasure to know, sits on the velvet maroon couch by the fireplace. It’s our usual spot, either here or on the black metal barstools, and I can see he’s started without us with his typical glass of whiskey. Liam acts like he was born pissed off at the world, but I remember a time when my older brother was the sweetest human walking the planet. Something changed around the time he left high school, and while I love him dearly, I wish he’d snap out of it.

“How was the end of dinner rush?” Warren asks, genuinely curious, as he squeezes Liam’s shoulder and sits on the couch opposite him.

I take my place beside him, our thighs pressing together as he hangs that long, lean, muscled arm across the back of the couch behind me.

It’s rare that Warren isn’t at Hope Pizza, especially for a crazy weekend service, but he took the time tonight to show me what he rented for me. It made the whole thing even more special, the fact that he put our new project and my wants over the job he’s so dedicated to.

“Fine, until Auggy’s mom showed up.”

“Fuck.” Warren sits up, his back going ramrod straight.

Liam holds a hand up. “It’s taken care of. She and Mom got into it, with that bitch accusing us of manipulating her daughter and holding her against her will. Meanwhile, August stores her tips in a coffee can above the frozen dough in the walk-in freezer so the money she’s saving won’t get taken at home. I swear to God, if I could …” He trails off, knowing it’s better to leave some things left unsaid.

My hand rubs up and down Warren’s back in gentle circles because I know how much August’s problems stress him. He doesn’t always come right out and say it, but I know he sees the younger, damaged version of himself in her. We exchange a look, and I know without a doubt it was one hundred percent worth it to marry him. Even if this ends with my heart being smashed to smithereens, at least August will get the help she needs with college.

“Aside from that, it was good. Everyone loved Evan’s new fish dish, even though I could murder him for abusing my tomatoes the way he did to plate them just how he wanted.”

I’m still trying to calm Warren as I hear him taking deep breaths in and out of his nose. “Our little brother has increased revenue and given me very pretty food pictures to put on Instagram, so you do what he says.”

“Then he should respect my produce.” Liam waves the waitress down to order another glass of whiskey.

Evan is the culinary brain behind Hope Pizza, having returned from his Michelin-star gig in California to take over for our father not too long ago. Liam runs the family farm, where we source most of our ingredients, which is what gives our food an edge and a secret that many can’t replicate. The two butt heads constantly because the farmer and the chef are at odds about how to treat certain produce. I stay out of it but wonder what will happen when Dad truly retires. Will there be a blood bath for taking the reins?

“Warren rented me a storefront.” I beam, bragging to my brother as I change the subject.

“Hell of a wedding gift, huh?” Liam snorts.

Looking back at me, I can tell my husband has let go of some of the stress and worry, and I beg him with my eyes to come all the way back. To be present with me, enjoy the moment.

“Anything for my wife.” Warren grins at me as he puts in our drink orders; an IPA for him and a glass of white for me.

After all, he knows me well. The way he says my wife, though? Has wetness coating my thong. Jesus, who knew matrimony could make one so feral?

“Dad is going to have a coronary,” my grumpiest brother grumbles. “I’m not dealing with that.”

“You won’t have to, and neither will we. Considering he isn’t speaking to us, we’re free and clear to do whatever we want. Also, it’s not his money, so he can fuc—”

“Hey, that’s your father,” Liam interrupts me, scowling. “He might be a grumpy bastard at times, but he loves you. He’s crushed he couldn’t dance with you at your wedding or walk you down the aisle. You know that, right?”

“Shit,” Warren curses.

“Shit,” I echo because I hadn’t even thought about it.

We were so wrapped up in the wedding, Arthur’s estate, and our own stubborn pride, I never even stopped to consider it. I thought Dad was pissed at us because of that weird pact he and Warren had that my fake husband would never tell me about, even to this day. I didn’t stop to realize that I robbed my father of the couple of moments he’d probably been dreaming about since I was born.

Once upon a time, I dreamed about them too. My father walking me down the aisle, picking the song we’d dance to before I formed a family with another man, the speech he’d give, and how he’d try to swallow back his tears. My father is a very proud man, and this has probably been a huge blow to his ego. I’m his only little girl, and I’ve taken this from him.

“Yeah, shit. So give him some grace. We’re all proud of you about this store, he just had his reservations about the financials, which it seems you’ve worked out on your own.” He eyes Warren and I like we’re hiding something. “Give him time. Hell, we’re still adjusting, even if we’re happy for you two.”

Warren pulls me closer to him, and I know he can sense my guilt and unease. Per usual, I railroaded my way into getting what I wanted and didn’t consider the feelings of those around me. It’s one of my faults, and I reconcile with myself right then to apologize to my father.

“I need to have a conversation with him.” Warren leans over to whisper in my ear.

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