Page 10 of All We Need

It had been a whole month since we met, andIhadn’t seen her once.Whenwe parted ways at the fair,Ipresumed she was only there to sell her artwork.

Like our first interaction, her defensiveness was off the charts.Toobad it didn’t do the trick in discouraging me.

SuttonBayis a small town.We’rebound to run into each other again and they say the third time’s a charm.

The snow has been coming down hard sinceThanksgiving.Itrudge through the uncleared drifts piling up on the sidewalk untilIreach the restaurant, surprised to see the light on inside.

Pulling out my keys,Iunlock the door and scurry inside before a flurry of white powder tailgates me.

“Hey.You’rehere early,” a voice calls from behind the bar.

AsIunzip my coat and hang it up,Inod atPatrick. “Andyou’re here earlier.Yougood?”

He nods with a sigh. “Yeah,Iwas up early to deliver a letter toQuinn.”

“Ahhh.How’sshe doing?”

For the past week, we’ve been helpingGraham.He’sstill holding onto some old baggage from his previous toxic relationship, and after attending his ex’s wedding, it was clear he hadn’t unpacked it all.HeandQuinnare taking some timeapart, whichIthink is good for them both, but he’s enlisted us to deliver her letters every day.

“Better.Muchbetter.Ithink they’ll be seeing each other soon,”Patricksays confidently.

“Here’s hoping.Momis still in panic mode and driving me up the wall.”

He snorts. “Yeah, and trying her hardest not to get involved.”

“That’ll be the day.”Separatedby the driftwood bar our dad built,Istand in front of him. “Speakingof our meddling mother,I’mgoing to move back into my house tomorrow.WithFlorenceback, she can keep an eye on her.Ilove her, but good god,Ineed my own space.TwoSadlerwomen are enough to drive any man gray.”

Last month, my mom slipped on her driveway and broke her leg.Mysiblings andIfreaked out as flashbacks of our dad’s sudden passing were dragged to the surface.Iturned the tables on my mom—moved in with her and smothered her while she healed.

“What?Issleeping in your childhood home making it difficult to bring women back?Isthe poster ofPamelaAndersonstaring at them off-putting?”

“I took that down years ago.”Aftermy college girlfriend complained.

Plus,Ihaven’t tried to take anyone home in weeks.Notsince?—

“You’re pulling a weird face.Areyou in pain?”Helaughs while polishing a pint glass.

“Yeah.Becauseof you.Foralmost twenty-eight years.”Idrag my beanie off and throw it at his head. “I’llbe in the back if you need me.I’mnot on shift, butI’vegot some admin to do.”

His face drops, and he gently places down the glass. “Okay, butIhave to warn you…there’s going to be an email in your inbox you will not like.”

My eyes fall shut asItake a steadying breath, knowing exactly whatI’llfind.

For months it was radio silence from the owner, and only recently have they given their input.Orruled with an iron fist more like.

When it was announced we were officially being sold,Ithought this was my chance;I’dfinally get to showcase my talent and ideas.

Big fat fucking no.

Email after email, the new owner shot me down.Andthat was beforeIeven mentioned changing the menu.

Can we get a new oven?It’snot within budget.

Can we hire a second line cook?Thesales don’t back this up.

Can we change our bread supplier?Thecurrent one is cheaper.

I’m being micromanaged to my last nerve by some faceless idiot sitting behind a desk.

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