Page 49 of Over the Edge

“Evelyn, and this is Garrett. I’ve been dying to visit.” Evelyn takes the lead on introductions.

“I just love it when a couple comes up. It just embraces the spirit of things, really shows that you’re taking the festival seriously,” Millie says and she gives us an adoring look that makes Evelyn flush.

“We—” I start to correct her, but Evelyn cuts me off.

“She’s right, baby. It’s so special to be the ones who get to do this. It’s my first time here, and I couldn’t have come at a better time.” The hand gripping my arm slides up to my chest. It’s like she’s mapped a trail of fire with how my skin heats.

It takes me a minute to register her playing along. She’s the type to. She knows this tasting matters to the town, that’s probably all there is to it.

“Great. We’re going to go check on the first flight of drinks. We’re going to start with a few ales if that’s all right. Feel free to get comfortable.” Porter gestures toward the two love seats around the live edge wooden table.

The Barlowes shuffle out of the room, allowing us a moment to regain our bearings.

“What are you doing?” I keep my voice low in case anyone can hear.

“Playing along,” she whispers back, leaning closer. “They want a couple. Let’s give them a couple. It’s just a few hours.”

“This isn’t going to work.”

“Why wouldn’t it? It’s not like you don’t know how to put on a good performance. Didn’t you guest star on that limited series, you know, the one with the mom who killed all her son’s girlfriends’?” she asks, referring to one of the acting gigs I was sent on to help promote Fool’s Gambit over a decade ago.

“Evelyn, if you have a script you’ve been keeping somewhere that will help me out in this situation, I’d be more than happy to memorize it in the three or so minutes we have until they come back,” I say.

“It’s improv,baby.” She draws out the term of endearment. The word unlocking something I never knew I wanted to hear her say. “Just act like you can’t get me out of your head and we’ll be fine. There’s no reason we can’t have some fun with this. A little role-play never hurt anyone.” She pats my chest then rises on her toes to press her lips to my jaw. It’s fleeting but launches my heart into my throat.

This is a bad idea. There’s no logic to why I don’t run away and buy the wine for the festival myself. There’s just her and she’s enough for me to turn into a fool.

“Anything for the festival,” I rasp.

After Millie and Porter return, we make it through the ale samples without a hitch, mostly because of Evelyn. She asks all the right questions about the farm and them about their relationship.

“We have a mead, a true blueberry wine, and a Moscato that’s a little lighter,” Millie explains.

Through Evelyn’s questioning we’ve learned that Porter takes charge of the activities, parties, and other general non-alcoholic endeavors while Millie is the mastermind behind expanding the beverage options. It makes sense because we also learned that she was an intern here studying fermentation science when she met Porter. They found that they perfectly fit into each other’s lives and couldn’t let go.

Following the way the tasting glasses have been arranged as a guide, we start sipping the mead. The honey that sweetens the drink is cut with lemon which prevents the liquid from becoming too syrupy.

Evelyn gives that quick smile that lets me know it’s not her favorite, but will lie about it anyway if she has to. “How do you two do it? Forty years of marriage and working together?”

“You know that saying that relationships are all about compromise?” Porter asks.

Evelyn nods. “Sure.”

“It’s bullshit. Collaboration. They’re all about collaboration. We’re partners. We don’t always get along but we work through it because this place isn’t the dream. We’re the dream, our kids and our grandkids too. Never lose focus on that,” Porter says in clipped precise sentences, that make him sound annoyed, but appear to be his natural speech pattern. “There were these chickens—”

Millie cuts him off and preemptively waves away the story. “No, we're not talking about the chickens. Enough about us, we talk about us all day. If you read the label on the wine, you can learn half our story right there. What about you two? No, wait, let me guess how long you’ve been together. I’m good at this.” Millie pauses. She adopts the assessing gaze of a psychic trying to collect clues from her customers. Her hazel eyes drift between the two of us. “Under a year, but just barely. But you were friends before that.”

“Close. He knows my brother. We’ve been in each other’s lives practically forever,” Evelyn skirts around the truth.

Millie offers another one of her adoring looks. “That’s nice, isn’t it? I bet it gets all the basic questions out of the way." She waggles her brows, suggestively. "You get to skip a few steps and get to the good parts.”

I swallow at the implication and try not to think about it too hard so my blood doesn’t inconveniently try to relocate south while we finish our trip.

“What flipped the switch? There’s always a breaking point with these things. Just snap and it all falls apart and then into place. It was like that with us. You know, there was a strict no fraternization rule when I worked here, and I knew I was the one who was going to get the bad end of it if we got caught. But there was this bonfire at the end of the summer term and everyone came to celebrate before we all went back to our normal lives. One kiss with Porter in the blueberry fields and I had no choice but to come back the moment I graduated.” There’s a dreamy look in her eyes as she relives the past.

A reflection of the look seeps into Evelyn’s eyes as I can only assume she’s picturing the future. I can’t help the pinch of jealousy that comes when I know I can’t ask who’s in that image with her.

“There was a party about a year and a half ago,” I start before I realize what’s happening. I guess the past has a hold on me too. I reach out and the edge of my pinkie whispers against Evelyn’s. A small touch to tell her it’s my turn in the dance of this minor deception. “A mutual friend was throwing it.” Though, I’ve never been sure if Avery has actually ever considered me as such. “And Evelyn was dancing. She’s the type of person who makes everyone want to get up and join her. I didn’t, but I watched. She was in this pink dress that kind of floated as it moved, but someone bumped into her and spilled their drink everywhere.Next thing I know, this beautiful woman is standing in front of me demanding I give her my suit jacket.”

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