Page 145 of Wreckage and Rain

I watch all of this from the corner table where Colt has parked us. Colt is laughing into his bourbon.

"You raised him?"

"I raised him."

"He's going to make a wonderful uncle one day."

"Don't start."

"I'm not starting."

"You're starting."

"I'm observing."

***

Autumn comes by at eleven.

She has moved to Chicago officially. Two weeks ago. She has a studio apartment three blocks from us in Lincoln Park and she's been working from it remotely while her firm sorts out her transfer, and the long-distance commute to Vibes has become something she does four nights a week even though it doesn't technically need to be. Tonight she comes in with snow in her hair and the look of a woman who's decided not to overthink why she's at this bar at eleven on a weeknight.

She sees Jake first. Squeals. They hug. They have known each other since middle school and they'll hug like middle schoolers in their forties.

Then she sees Sam.

The look between them lasts a full beat longer than casual. Sam, behind the bar, sets down the glass he's holding. Autumn, in the doorway, brushes the snow out of her hair.

"Bourbon," she says.

"Coming up," he says.

She crosses to the bar and takes the stool next to Jake. Jake looks at Autumn, then at Sam, then at me, and reads the whole situation in about three seconds.

"I'm going to go sit with my sister," he announces, to nobody in particular.

"Good idea," Sam says, not looking up from the pour.

"Thank you, Sam."

Jake slides into the booth next to me.

"So," he says. "Autumn and Sam."

"Autumn and Sam."

Colt comes back from the bathroom and slides in on my other side. He follows my eyeline to the bar, where Sam and Autumn are leaning toward each other in a conversation that doesn't need translating.

"He's going to ask her out," Colt says.

"How can you tell."

"He poured her the bourbon, and then he poured himself one."

"That's the move?"

"That's the move."

We sit in the booth and watch the slow choreography of two people who've been broken before and are letting themselves try one more time. Sam leans his forearms on the bar. Autumn leans hers. They're close. They aren't touching. The whole thing is a study in restraint. It's the most romantic thing in the building.