Page 98 of The Problem with Perfect

The place is packed to the gills, and I’m not surprised to see what feels like half of Cedar Point here tonight. It’s technically a soft opening for Cedar Cider, but with all these people here, you’d think it was their real opening.

There’s a soft rock station playing lightly over the speakers, and the crowd is spread out across the tables and high tops in the main brewery space and out to the picnic tables on the patio.

I slip through the crowd, my eyes searching for Rusty in every corner before finally finding him in the doorway that leads to the kitchen, chatting with another couple, each of them holding a beer.

“I’m surprised he looks so calm.”

Glancing to the side, I smile when I see Boyd and Ruby.

“Well, he wasn’t calm this morning,” I reply. “I can promise you that.”

He got out of bed around five, far earlier than his seven o’clock alarm. When I managed to drag myself after him at around six, I found him in his office, looking over paperwork and going over everything he needed to get finalized today before this event.

“None of them were calm, I’m assuming,” Ruby says with a smile. “Boyd was up before the sun, and the first time I saw him today was when I got here an hour ago.”

I laugh. “Well, everything looks great,” I say to Boyd. “You all should be really proud.”

My brother’s eyes scan the room, and a small, pleased smile curves his mouth. “Yeah, I think I am.”

Boyd has been in town for the past few weeks, working with Jackson and Rusty to get the final components ready before opening.

Even though he’s been mostly a silent partner in the past, Rusty told me Boyd has taken more of an interest in the day-to-day over the past few months. It wasn’t a huge surprise when he came home for our yearly family reunion in August and just never left, claiming he wanted to stick around to pitch in however he could to help with the brewery launch.

I know Rusty was glad to have him around, though he was still a little bit concerned about how everything would play out considering it was their first time seeing each other since we officially started dating. Apart from an awkward reaction the first time he actually saw Rusty and me hand in hand, it’s been smooth sailing.

I’m hopeful he reacts equally as calmly when he finds out I’m going to be moving into Rusty’s in the next few weeks.

“Hey babe.”

At the sound of his voice, I turn, unable to help the wide smile that always crosses my face at the sight of him. Rusty wraps his arm around my shoulder and tugs me in, placing a kiss at the crown of my head.

“Everything looks amazing,” I tell him, wrapping one arm around his back. “I’m so proud of you.”

His chest puffs up like it always does when I say exactly how incredible he is.

“Thanks.”

The evening passes in a flurry of conversations and beer, and by the time the night is coming to an end, I’ve come to the conclusion that it isn’t half of Cedar Point here to celebrate, it’sallof Cedar Point. And of course, that includes my entire family, with everyone, here to celebrate Boyd’s success and help in any way possible.

My parents haven’t stopped smiling since they arrived, and Busy—who drove all the way back to town just for this event—has been bustling around with trays of snacks and samples of beer along with Briar and a handful of other friends who offered to help.

Even Bishop, who has been sitting in a corner for most of the night with a frown on his face, managed to set his own emotions aside for a few minutes to give Boyd a hug and some kind words.

All in all, it’s an incredibly successful night, and once we’ve closed everything down and returned to Rusty’s, I collapse onto the couch, my feet killing me.

“You know, I used to spend most of my days on my feet,” I say, slipping off my boot and massaging my foot. “How am I this tired after just a few hours?”

Rusty chuckles and drops down next to me then pulls my foot up onto his lap and begins rubbing at it with his big, strong hands. I moan, my head falling back at how delicious the pressure feels.

“Well, you sit on your butt a lot now,” he answers. “Makes sense that your feet would hurt a little bit.”

“Don’t say I sit on my butt a lot,” I reply. “That makes it sound like I’m lazy.”

He laughs. “You sit at a desk for work. Is that better?”

I nod. “Much.”

I really do miss working at The Mitch and Dock 7, but I’m so excited about how everything has worked out for my new job.

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