Page 55 of The Barkeep and the Bro

“They should help you find a new vendor.”

“They’re not going to do that.” She rubbed her face, smearing red all over. Sometimes when she cried, she reminded me of that little baby rubbing her eyes for sleep. “You were right, okay? They were trendy but not dependable. We wanted to have a cool wedding, one of those weddings people share pics about on Pinterest. You should see some of the weddings we’ve gone to. Everything is so curated and artisan. I can’t keep up!”

“You don’t have to. Who cares what other people are doing? You’re getting married because you love Tim, not to impress random idiots online.”

“I know, I know.” She didn’t need any more salt rubbed in this wound. “I don’t know what to do. I have a list of vendors. The ones I’ve called are booked. Should we postpone?”

“No.” I put my hand on hers and made her meet my eye. I was really going to do this, wasn’t I? It was best not to think too hard. Being your daughter’s hero came with downsides, which I would think about later. “I’ve got you covered. I can cater it.”

“Dad, no. That’s so much work and only a week away. I promise that wasn’t why I came up here.”

But the excitement and relief had already crested in her face. There was no taking it back. My daughter deserved a great wedding.

“I couldn’t. We’ll find a solution.”

“I can do it. I’ve catered events before.” And this way, I could stay busy at the wedding and avoid those pitiful looks.

“I’m paying you, and I won’t hear another word about it.” She pointed her finger at me, and I sat up straight. She unleashed her courtroom voice. “The same fee I was going to pay Empire.”

“Deal. Because of the tight turnaround, you don’t have many options with food choices. It’ll be what’s on our regular menu.”

“I love Stone’s Throw food. So does Tim.” She pulled me into a hug, her thin arms stretching around my neck. She barreled my cheek with kisses. “Dad, seriously. I can’t thank you enough. I know we messed up.”

“You didn’t. You better write reviews of Empire Catering and plaster the web with them so they don’t do this to other people.”

She made notes on this development in her phone while I cataloged a growing to-do list in my head. I didn’t trust technology to handle all my tasks.

“Who will you have to help?” she asked.

“I can see if Natasha is available to run point. I’d given her the weekend off since I was closing the bar to attend.” I pet her hand.

“What about Charlie to bartend?”

Charlie, as in the guy I couldn’t stop thinking about despite my active work to avoid him? That guy? Just hearing his name sent a curl up my spine down to my toes.

“What about him?”

“Would he be available to work? You said he’s been doing a great job. I’m sure he’d love to be there, shit-talking with everyone behind the bar.”

Charlie did enjoy that. He could chitchat with anyone, weaving small talk from thin air. I was not blessed with that gene.

“He’s likely busy.”

“Could you see if he might want to work the wedding?”

“Are you sure he’d want to? Would it be uncomfortable for him to be there but not as a guest?” I threw out every excuse I could find, but Ellie’s suggestion made the most sense.

“You said yourself he was doing great, really stepping up. He could be your right-hand man.”

I ran through the mental list of other possible people. My other bartender was going out of town that weekend. Most of the good for-hire bartenders were already booked by this point. I didn’t want strangers working with me on this important event. Everything kept coming back to one answer.

“I’ll ask him,” I said.

“No need.” Ellie typed away on her phone. “I just texted him. He said he’d love to do it.”

I internalized the world’s biggest sigh. This wedding was going to push me to my limit of restraint. “All right then.”

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