Page 47 of The Boyfriend Boycott
“It will. You’ve got this.”
“I just wish I knew what we were raising money for. Spencer still hasn’t filled me in on that part,” I admit.
“Damn. That’s one ambitious woman,” Finn says, placing the jug of iced tea in the mini fridge below the counter.
“She is,” I say, and she’s found some way of rubbing off on me, giving me a voice I never had. Over the last few weeks, she’sshown me a side of myself that I never even knew I possessed. She’s brought out the part of me that is passionate, driven, and wants to get shit done. Maybe I have known that part of me is in there somewhere, but I had let myself neglect it. I’d forgotten that I could go after something and make it happen. I was always making things happen for other people, for my brothers, my family. Doing this now, it’s allowed me to have both. I can be of service to others and still honour the things that matter to me. What matters to me right now is Heartwood. The town where my parents met, where I grew up, where I want my own family to thrive one day.
“You’ve got guests,” Finn says, nodding towards the door. I turn to see Eleanor and Marko arriving first, Winnie close behind them.
Rounding the bar, I weave through the tables to meet them, giving Eleanor and Winnie both a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Ladies,” I say. “Good to see you, Marko.” I shake his hand.
“Where’s Spencer?” Eleanor asks. “I thought for sure she’d be here by now, sneaking in some one-on-one time with you before it starts.” Eleanor winks at me, and I catch the smile playing on Winnie’s face. Eleanor obviously filled her in on Spencer and I’s dynamic at dinner the other night, and Winnie looks like a proud mother hen.
“She’s coming. Her mom is in town, so they’re getting ready together at home.” I catch the way I’ve said home, as if it’s implied that it’s Spencer’s home, too. I clear my throat, trying to stifle the colour that’s flushing my cheeks now. “Go and get yourselves a drink.” I reach into my jeans pocket and pull out six red tickets, handing them each two. “Everyone gets two drink tickets, and then the rest is on you.”
They move towards the bar, making room for the next guests. Mason opens the heavy wooden door for Ally, a protective handplaced on her lower back as she enters, and her face lights up when she sees me.
“Grady! You’ve outdone yourself,” she says. “This place looks incredible!” She gestures around her at the new paint job, the new tables and chairs I brought in, and the bookshelves lining one wall, housing some vintage books and bottles of whiskey. Exactly like Spencer’s design.
“It was Spencer’s idea,” I admit. I know this whole evening is supposed to be about fixing my image, but whatever recognition, compliments, or attention this event and the bar gets tonight, I want it to go to her.
“It’s really …” Mason starts, but as he looks around, I can tell he’s at a loss for words. All he’s able to say is, “Dad would have loved this place.” It hits me in the chest, sending a pang right through me. I’ve never told Mason that the bar is my outlet for my grief, but his assessment skills are astute, and he’s always had a special way of knowing what I need to hear.
I hand him two drink tickets, and as he takes them from me, I clasp my hand around his in a meaningful handshake.
“Ally, your drinks are on me tonight. There’s a decent mocktail menu, too. Elsie made a non-alcoholic cotton candy drink that looks incredible,” I explain.
Ally and Mason head towards the bar as another group of people file in. I recognize one as another city councillor. Suzanne, the chair of the board of education, came with her wife, and a few others that I welcome with handshakes and one-armed hugs.
My line of sight is briefly drawn to the door, and I do a double-take. Spencer and Marla managed to sneak in behind them all, and for a moment, Spencer the only person I see. Standing there in a red dress with white polka dots, the short hemline showing off her beautiful long legs, made even longer by the strappy white heels she’s wearing.
God, she’s stunning. When I glance over at the woman next to her, it’s obvious to everyone in the room where she inherited her looks from.
Spencer’s gaze meets mine, and her mouth widens into an open-mouthed smile when she spots me. She flashes me a wink and lifts the camera from where it’s hanging around her neck, mouthing the wordsthank youas I’m pulled into another hug by the petite elderly woman who owns the antique shop.
I mouth the wordsof courseback to her, over the woman’s shoulder. Before I’m able to get to Spencer, another group of people have filed in, all wanting my attention, all wanting to say how much they love the idea of the cocktail contest. By the time I’m able to look for Spencer again, she’s gone.
I scan the dimly-lit bar, my gaze catching on that burgundy dress. She’s deep in conversation with Suzanne in the back booth, her hands waving around. By the intent way that Suzanne is listening to her, I get the distinct impression that Spencer is sharing one of her wild, genius plans with her. It piques my curiosity. What business does Spencer have with the board of education? And why are they talking as if they already know each other?
“She’s a lovely girl.” A familiar voice approaches me from behind, catching me in the act of staring at Spencer. Winnie.
“Hey, Mama,” I greet her, having to lean down as I always do to pull her in for a hug. I didn’t get a chance to give her one in the throng of people when she first arrived.
“Eleanor told me you and Spencer were quite the pair,”Winnie says, and my cheeks heat. I adore talking about Spencer like we’re a real couple, but the conversation feels off limits.
“You know how she likes to get ahead of herself.” I dismiss the comment, hoping that it’s enough for Winnie to want to change the subject.
“I don’t know … you wear your feelings pretty close to your chest. If Eleanor picked up on something between you two, I’d be willing to bet there was a reason for it.”Winnie is right, the good-natured exterior I put on is often a mask to hide my true feelings. Spencer is the first person who has seenmethrough it. My heart flutters. If I believe that what we have is real, and so many others are starting to recognize it, maybe Spencer will start to see it, too.
“It doesn’t matter what I feel, Winnie. She’s just passing through. I doubt there’s anything I could do or say at this point to convince her otherwise. Spencer goes wherever the wind takes her.”
“Sometimes if you want something, you have to go after it. You can’t just sit there and hope that the wind changes direction.” Winnie looks me in the eyes when she says this, and it rings true somewhere deep within me, a new part of myself opening up to the concept. A part of me that’s never truly considered what I want, let alone how to get it. When I was young, people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I never had an answer. Not an astronaut or a professional baseball player. I never dared to let myself dream. When we lost Mom, my life shifted to make sure that my brothers were okay. Now that I have something in my grasp, something I want more than anything, I know it’s worth chasing. I know it’s worth the discomfort of going after it.Even if it means getting my heart broken.
I can’t say all this to Winnie. How could I put into words that I’ve let myself go with the flow my entire life because I never knew anything different, and that I’m only now finding my way back to the shore?
So instead, I shrug, and as I do, I feel a small soft hand wrap around the inside of my bicep.
