James has a charming smile as he talks with a few of the patrons. His uncle’s here, Frank, in his normal spot. I’m sure James isn’t going to act like a little shit with him here. This is his last chance after showing up late yesterday and forcing Mags to handle all those boxes herself. He’s on thin fucking ice.
My chair scrapes the floor as I shift in my seat, trying to get comfortable in the back right corner. I’ve got a perfect view of the front entrance. I’m right next to the end of the bar. It’s the closest I could be to Grace’s usual seat.
Shaking my head, I wonder what the hell’s come over me. Worked up over a woman. A woman I haven’t even kissed. Haven’t touched. A woman who isn’t my girlfriend… Yet.
The papers rustle in my hands as I go through all the bills again. We’re making a damn good profit and the return on investments are steadily on an increase when last year they were flatlined. I almost feel like I can breathe, like I can take a damn break, but I know it’ll only take one hiccup to have something get fucked up.
Sitting up straighter in my seat and moving the soles of my shoes from the chair to the floor, I try to get this weird feeling to leave me. I need a beer. I need to relax.
I need my sweetheart to get her ass in here.
My gaze drifts to my phone, face down on the tabletop. My foot taps relentlessly on the floor. It’s really not like her to be this late. It’s almost eight o'clock.
As if staring at my phone will will her to call, I spend a long moment doing just that, debating on shooting her a text. She hasn’t messaged me since the other morning.
I blow out a breath. It’s not like any of this is real anyhow. It’s just flirting.
Back to work, and letting go of all this tension, I lean back in my seat and grab my pen to tally up the bills in my record book. So far, so good. Everything’s looking on point and within budget as I scribble down the amounts.
“Charlie, are these seats taken?”
My hand stops mid-stroke as I hear my mother’s voice.
“He saved them for us,” I hear Ali say. Tension creeps up my back. What the heck are they doing here?
My notebook lowers to the table with a dull thud as I give them both a tight smile. I don’t know what it is about my family coming to my bar. Part of the reason I built this bar was to get them out of my mind. To get the whole damn town out of my head.
But I can never say no to Ma. Or to Ali. And the town fucking followed me here anyway. It’s not like my bank account complains.
“Pull up a chair,” I tell Ma. I lean over and let her kiss me on the cheek although my gaze darts to the entrance. Suddenly I’m grateful Grace isn’t here.
I can feel her lipstick smudge on my cheek, and I wait for her to look back at the bar before I wipe it off.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I question them, not hiding the surprise and wariness. My eyes flicker to the entrance again, and this time it’s a different kind of anxiety running through me. They saw her picture. If she walks through that door, I’m fucked.
“We just wanted to see you,” my mother says in a sweet voice, but I don’t buy her southern charm for a second. Setting her purse in front of her, both palms on the bright floral fabric, she adds. “Can’t a mom just want to see her son?”
“You just saw me, Ma.”
My mom smacks my hand playfully, “You know what I mean.”
“Did you get your suit fitted?” my sister asks me, a real sense of urgency in her voice. Maybe this is just for the wedding. They aren’t trying to worm their way into whatever Grace and I have going on. It’s just the wedding, I convince myself and I would relax but… no, I did not get my suit fitted.
I nod my head once, but I can’t look her in the eye as my mouth opens. Fucking hell. I scratch the back of my head, looking toward the door again and letting out a sigh.
“Charles Theodore,” my mother scolds me, “you need to get your tux fitted!” She smacks me on the arm, yet again, but this time with the tall menu on the table. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, but luckily I don’t have to respond.
“It’s a suit,” Ali says as she yanks the menu from Ma’s hands. “I don’t want tuxes.” She says the last line as if she’s said it a million times to our mother before and I know she has.
“I don’t understand you, girl,” Ma shakes her head, but there’s a playfulness to her tone.
“Can I get y’all anything to drink?” I hear James over my shoulder, and I turn to take him in. He shouldn’t have left the bar, but a quick look shows that it’s just the regulars. And it’s not like Maggie is going to come over here. Everyone knows Ma and Ali… and the rest of my family.
“No, no thank you,” Ma says and pushes off the table, “we’re having a late dinner down at Iron Grill.” An immediate sense of relief comes over me as I realize they’re leaving. “I just wanted to stop in and say hi to my baby boy.”
I can’t help the flaming blush rising to my cheeks. I’ll be sixty years old and she’ll still be calling me her baby boy, I know it. Ma and Ali stand first, Ali lamenting how she’s starving with all this stress and that I need to get my suit fitted. Immediately.
Thank the good Lord they’re leaving; standing up to give them both a quick farewell hug I finally feel relieved. And that’s when I see Grace walk in from the corner of my eye.
Fuck.
My heart hammers in my chest, and it beats even faster when Ali follows my line of sight and squeals.
“No way! Grace!” A wide smile accompanies Ali as she practically runs to greet a wide-eyed and surprised Grace a few feet from the entrance. Every red alarm bell goes off in my head. Ali’s got her in a hug before Grace knows what hit her.
With Ma in tow, I scold Ali, “Let the woman breathe Ali?”
“So-” my sister lets a now-catching-on Grace go when I stop beside them, feeling caught in a trap. It was a coup. I know it and I stare at both of them, my mother and my sister, letting them know as much, but neither looks at me, all of their attention is on my poor sweetheart. Shit.
“Hi there, Grace,” Ma’s voice is lower than usual as she takes Grace in. Her eyes travel down the blush-colored blouse Grace is wearing, and a smile finally ticks up on Ma’s face.
Damn right. There’s not a single reason Ma shouldn’t like Grace. She’s smart and sweet from head to toe. And looking to really settle down.
Ma should like that, even if I don’t.
“Hi,” Grace looks between the two of them, visibly swallowing as she moves the clutch in her hands back and forth and then stares at me with a pleading look.
“Just go along with it, sweetheart,” I whisper in her ear as I give her a small peck on the cheek, followed by a hug. All for show for my family. Just go along with it. Please. That little peck though. It does something to me. Something that lights up every nerve ending in me.
“Ali,” I say, looking at my sister and then Ma, “Ma, this is Grace.”
“It’s lovely to meet you.” Ma and Ali say almost at the same time before Grace can get a word out. The nervousness is coming off her in waves.
“Same to you,” Grace says in a gentle tone as she smiles shyly and bites down on her lip. “You both look lovely.”