Page 60 of The Last Goodbye

I shook my head. “No. I’m all right, thank you.”

“Let me know if you need anything,” the older man said.

“Let me guess,” she said, peeking up at me. “I owe you money?”

Her voice was so defeated that I got a sinking feeling.

I also felt this weird mix of empathy, followed by anger and frustration. She was here—by choice.

Bass had carried a lot of the weight of those choices, and it hit me in this moment. While she sat on this barstool, her daughter was across the country hoping that she’d show up for her big day.

And her son was just as hopeful, because he wanted nothing but happiness for his sister.

“No. You don’t know me. I’m Briar Sinclair. I’m a friend of Gracie’s.”

“I don’t know anyone named Gracie.” She narrowed her gaze. “Did Hal send you? Tell him I don’t have any money for him.”

What the hell is she talking about?

“I’m also a friend of Bass Bennett’s.”

Her shoulders straightened, and she swiveled in her barstool to face me. “You know my son?”

“I do.”

“Well, great. He’s been blowing up my phone with calls, and I’d prefer that he didn’t find out that I was here, which is why I didn’t answer.” She groaned. “And I’m sure he would say that I owe him money, too.”

“I won’t say that you’re here. But I think they’d be disappointed, because he and Jovi are expecting you in New York.”

She held her glass up for the bartender, who nodded.

“I wanted to go.” She shrugged. “But I got laid off from my job a few weeks ago. I fell off the wagon, and I didn’t have the heart to tell Jovi. My daughter is graduating from a big fancy university, and I know she wants me there. She’ll be crushed that I started drinking again. So it’s best I just don’t go there and upset her.”

“Graduation happens once in a lifetime, Jenna, and sometimes just showing up, even if you’ve got stuff going on—it’s still better than not showing up at all,” I said, because it was the truth.

Excuses were a dime a dozen, and from what I’d heard, she’d used up quite a few of those throughout their lives.

“And what would I do, Briar? Just walk in and say that I started drinking again, and I know that’s going to disappoint you?” She reached for her fresh cocktail when the bartender set it down in front of her.

“No. You would walk in and say, ‘Happy graduation. I’m so proud of you.’ Because it’s about Jovi’s big day, and that’s enough. Just to be there, and to tell her you’re proud of her.”

“Well, you look like a fancy lady without any problems, so you can’t even fathom all the things that are in the way of making that happen,” she said, her gaze scanning me from head to toe.

“Try me. Don’t let the outfit fool you.” I chuckled, and she actually laughed. “I’m a damn good problem-solver, so maybe I can help.”

“Okay. Well, for starters, it’s too late. Graduation is tomorrow morning.”

“And you told her that you were at the airport and missed your flight,” I said. “Why not just tell her you weren’t coming, if you had no intention of going?”

“Well, I figured her thinking I tried to come was better than not coming at all.” She shrugged, as if this were a perfectly reasonable reason to lie about it. “But there’s no way I can make it there by tomorrow now.”

“It’s still early here,” I pointed out, because they were three hours later, but she could still make it to the airport and get there on time if she left soon. “You could fly through the night. You’d make it in time for the ceremony, which will mean the world to your daughter. She’s worked hard for this, and having you there—it means something to her.”

“It shouldn’t. I had nothing to do with her getting there. That was all her brother.” She shook her head. “My son is one stubborn man. He stepped up for her from the time she was born. Hell, it’s probably the reason I felt so comfortable leaving all the time. I always knew she was in better hands with him than she was with me.”

“I know he’s very proud of her. But she wants you there, too.”

“I don’t think my son wants me there. Not when I’m drinking again.” She brought the glass to her lips.