Page 74 of Brewing Up a Bad Boy

Or was he just obsessed with his life in Birch Lake? It was easy and almost relaxing here. It was nice to show up for his shifts at the tavern or stop by Poppy’s and end up playing D&D with her and her friends.

This life had no real demands. It suited him. Or it suited him in this phase of his life. Would he be content to be just Ali for the rest of his time on earth?

He got back home and changed and headed to the tavern. He walked past WiCKed Sisters and saw Poppy, Liberty and Sera outside, welcoming their customers in for the day. Poppy waved at him, and he waved back.

This felt...safe.

That was the problem. Was he taking the safe path? Was he morphing into someone he wasn’t just to keep Poppy? Was he being true to the man he was?

How was he ever going to know? He’d have to leave. Go back to the UK and maybe Lancaster-Spencer to figure things out. It was the only way he’d know for sure.

But what if he got sucked back into his old life and lost Poppy for good?

What if you don’t?

That voice was louder than the noise pulling him into a whirlpool of doubt and fear.

Love was at the heart of it. He’d been afraid to ask for it in any of his relationships. He knew that he’d taken comfort over love so many times. But now he didn’t want that. He wanted Poppy to love him. Even if they couldn’t be together, he wanted her in this emotional quagmire with him.

“Dude, you’re very early,” Owen said when Ali let himself into the tavern with his key.

“Yeah. I wanted to talk to you.”

“About?”

“Autumn.”

“Ah. You’re going back to England?”

“I don’t know. There is a lot I want here. But I can’t just abandon what I had there,” he said. “It’s not fair to you, but I would like to work with you on brewing some ales for the Oktoberfest and possibly come back.”

“That’s cool. Your brews are unique, which I really like, and the customers do too, but you’ve got to do you. I’m still going to host it. Maybe make Lars step up on the brewing front.”

“Cool.” That was truly the only answer that Owen could give. So why didn’t Ali feel better about it? He got what he wanted. Except he didn’t.

It would have been easier to make the choice if Owen had said he needed him.Fuck me.Was he still looking for external approval? If he was, then he wasn’t ready to be the man that Poppy deserved.

“What are your typical autumn brews?” Owen asked.

Alistair grabbed his notebook from his backpack, and as he looked at it, he saw his future in the pages. His love for Poppy wasn’t going to change this. He didn’t have to go back to Lancaster-Spencer to know that his future wasn’t in tea making. He’d always have an interest in it, but that was all it was.

His heart was here in the beer he started brewing as a way of saving his soul. It had done that and more. Given him a world of his own. A place where he could stand out because of something he’d earned instead of how he’d been born.

This morning, sitting in the moment had rattled him. He wasn’t used to just letting himself be. Worry had nipped at his heels on his run and sent him into a spiral. The kind that he would have punched his way out of before his breakdown.

They always closed the shop at seven. It didn’t make sense to stay open after that. Foot traffic on Main Street died down; tourists usually had headed back to their rooms, and locals were home or at the tavern. It was sort of a magical time of day for Poppy when the doors were closed and she and Liberty and Sera sat down to just talk.

Lately, with how busy summer could be, they hadn’t had time for this. Most days, one or all of them needed to be somewhere else. But tonight it was just the girls, and Poppy needed this. The final offer from Lancaster-Spencer had dropped in her inbox an hour ago. They’d already gone back and forth with different versions a few times until they got to this point. She’d skimmed it while making pots of tea for her customers.

Taking a moment to get the antique coupe glasses that her mum had given her when Poppy moved to Maine, she set three of them on the table and then went to check on the Moët she’d put in the fridge in the back. Sera and Wes had officially announced their wedding date...the first Wednesday in January, the day they met. It was also the anniversary of Ford’s death, and they were going to honor him.

Ford, Wes’s grandfather, had been Sera’s mentor in bookbinding and restoration. The two of them had met when Ford passed away and left Sera a box of books that Wes wanted. It had been a bit dicey at first but they’d worked together and fallen in love.

Liberty and Merle had officially moved in together. For some reason, Merle had been oddly stubborn about it, until Liberty told him that she liked his nerdiness and to stop being afraid.

Lancaster-Spencer had come in with a very generous offer that more than matched the offer from Willingham of Hampshire. Poppy had also received an amended contract regarding the Earl Winfield blend, which would now be labeled Kitchener’s Earl Winfield, and the rights were only licensed to Lancaster-Spencer and would revert back to Poppy’s family in fifty years’ time.

As much as she had never expected it, she was contemplating a relationship with Alistair as well. Something felt settled deep inside her. But hesitation still seemed to be her vibe around him. At times, she was frustrated with herself for not just trusting him, but she hoped that would come in time.

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