Page 77 of Every Beautiful Mile

He opens his eyes, lips tugging to one side as he looks from the drink to me, then takes a sip and smacks his lips together.

“Mmm!” He brings a hand to his chest. “Gin, lavender… Lemonade?” He takes another sip and laughs under his breath. “Damn, Nel. That’s a good drink.”

My heart skips at the compliment. “Really?”

I take a sip. The tang of the lemon mixes with the sweet honey, the lavender’s floral notes, and the gin’s gentle pine sing like a choir on my tastebuds as the carbonated bubbles pop on my tongue.

“But how did you get this purple? Is that… not food coloring?”

“Food coloring?” I act offended. “No.” I wiggle a finger at him. “One of the vendors was selling tea, and she had butterfly pea pollen. It’s from a flower that grows in Asia and one of the properties is this beautiful color. I added a little at the end for dramatic effect.”

He takes another sip and rests his hand on his chest. “Damn good.”

I hum, pleased, as I look around the restaurant and notice all the things I hadn’t before.

One wall is fully covered with ends of raw logs, adding rustic texture to an otherwise modern space. The remaining walls are white and tastefully lined with black-and-white photos of what I assume are local landscapes. A huge antler chandelier hangs perfectly in the middle of the exposed beamed ceilings.

It’s stunning.

“It’s kind of impressive you own a restaurant this beautiful, and you make the worst drink I’ve ever had,” I tease.

“Here we go again,” he groans. “How about this—we finish this round, and you teach me how to make the next one?”

I grin. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

***

“Gently, Ethan. You’re taking out some serious rage on that thing.”

He’s smashing the lavender petals and leaves to death, and I cringe, laying my own hand on his to soften his force.

“Better,” I say, “now, instead of traditional lemonade, I used fresh lemon juice from two lemons.” I juice them and add them to a glass. “And a simple syrup made with local honey.”

He adds the gin, shakes the contents, pours it into two glasses, and then tops both with club soda. I sprinkle the pea pollen that makes the purple color, and we tuck a sprig of lavender in each.

I sip mine first. “Perfect!” I nudge him. “Maybe you aren’t such a lost cause after all.”

“Maybe I just needed the right teacher.”

The low, serious tone of his voice makes something warm and gooey happen in my belly at the same time the gravity of the situation pulls down on me.

We are in a dark bar with music, drinking cocktails. Alone. My wedding band suddenly burns into my chest like a branding iron. Travis’ face flashes in my mind and guilt floods over me like an unexpected tidal wave.

I’m with Ethan because Travis is gone. The thought almost takes me down to my knees.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks it softly, his face etched in concern as he sets his drink down and looks at me.

His eyes flicker between mine.

“I’m sorry.” I trace my fingers down the side of my neck. “I haven’t been with a man since… you know… and it still feels… like I’m doing something wrong. Not that I’m with you, with you, or anything.” I laugh despite my warring emotions. “I’m so bad at this.” I drop my head with a groan.

“You aren’t bad at this,” he says, lifting my chin with his thumb and forefinger. Then, “Choosing to be with someone and promise forever only to realize forever isn’t that long is hard to swallow for anyone. It takes time to figure out how to keep living in a life that doesn’t feel like yours.”

I nod slightly. He’s right—righter than he knows.

“Is that why you didn’t tell me you were coming here? Because you feel guilty?” he asks, eyes searching mine.

“Maybe.” An unexpected laugh passes through my lips. “But also because it was kind of a sporadic decision. And I wasn’t sure if I’d come across as being… psychotic.” I shake my head. “It felt like you were flirting with me, but now that I’ve seen you in person, I can see that’s just how you are. I’m glad I’m here either way.” I pause. “For the mountains.”

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