Chapter Six

Mark

“ G o fish,” Johnson mutters, shaking his head as he looks at his cards.

I usually stay out of their silly games and pointless banter, but I can’t help arching an eyebrow when Mclanahan’s jaw practically hits the floor.

“We’re playing poker,” McLanahan says.

Johnson scrunches his face in confusion. “What’s the difference again?”

McLanahan lets out a frustrated groan, tossing his cards onto the bar. “I give up,” he says before turning to me. “I’ll buy this round. Just get me a beer. Actually, make it two.”

I let out a scoff. It’s hard to believe I’m the youngest one here with the way they act. It’s been like this ever since I first met them. The first time John McLanahan and Andrew Johnson came into this bar, I was only sixteen, and they were arguing about who’d buy the next round. And eighteen years later, nothing has changed.

I grab a glass, fill it with beer, and slide it over to McLanahan .

He takes a hearty gulp, then looks up at me. “What are you doing here on a Sunday, anyway?” he asks, taking another drink.

“Indulging your drinking habits,” I reply, busying myself with cleaning the bar, though it’s pretty quiet today.

McLanahan chuckles, shaking his head. “Do you ever take a day off?”

“I don’t think he does,” Johnson adds with a scoff. “The kid does nothing but work.”

“Not a kid,” I shoot back, narrowing my eyes at them. “And I do take time off.”

McLanahan raises an eyebrow. “You do? When? Because the only day I’ve ever seen you take off is—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off before he can finish his sentence. My jaw clenches, and my hand tightens around the cloth I’m holding, squeezing it as if it might somehow dissolve the tension building in my chest.

“Shit. I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” I reply, forcing the words out as my throat feels like it’s closing up. “Just drop it.”

“Sure,” he says, nodding. “It’s dropped.”

The silence in the bar is heavy, almost suffocating, until Johnson clears his throat.

“McLanahan’s an idiot, but he’s not wrong,” he says. “You should get out more. Have some fun, meet people. Don’t just stand behind this bar all your life.”

Jesus, that sounds fucking bleak.

“I’m good,” I reply, though his words linger in my mind. Is that what I’m doing? Wasting my life behind this bar ?

“What about your girl?” he asks.

I grunt. “She’s not my girl.”

A low chuckle escapes him. “Then how did you know who I was talking about?”

I shoot him a glare. “I’ll ban you for life,” I threaten.

He scoffs. “I’d like to see you try,” he says, nudging McLanahan’s shoulder. “We’re the reason this place is still up and running.”

“By drinking?” I raise an eyebrow.

“By keeping you in business,” he counters.

I grunt in response.

“You know I’m right,” he says with a smirk that makes me want to wipe it off his face.

I shake my head. “You’re an idiot.”

His laughter dies down, and McLanahan gives me a meaningful look. “Jokes aside, when was the last time you went out?” he asks. I open my mouth to answer, but he holds up his hand. “And I’m not talking about grocery shopping, or walking Murray, or taking Mia to her doctor’s appointments. I mean out . For real.”

I hesitate, searching for a response, but the silence that follows says it all.

“My point exactly,” he says. “You need to have some fun, kid. You deserve to be happy.”

“Not a kid,” I repeat, but the words feel hollow. “And I’m fine. I don’t need your old ass worrying about me.”

“Fine isn’t the same as happy,” he points out, taking another gulp of his beer.

His words sink in. When was the last time I felt genuinely happy? I think back to my time with Sasha, trying to recall any moments of real joy, but they’re buried beneath a cloud of painful memories. Every good moment seems tainted, mixed in with the worst times of my life.

“I’m just saying,” he says with a shrug. “There’s a reason you have wrinkles.”

“Because I’m thirty-four?” I reply dryly.

He shakes his head. “Because you’ve got nothing to smile about. You need a release, kid. You need to do something for yourself. You need to meet people who aren’t just your customers.”

I watch him, my jaw tightening as he keeps talking. Why haven’t I kicked him out yet?

He raises his glass, smirking. “You know I’m right,” he says before finishing off his beer in one final gulp.

I want to argue, to tell him he’s wrong and that I’m perfectly content with my life as it is. But deep down, I can’t deny the nagging doubt he’s planted.

“I have a bar to run,” I say instead. “A dog to feed and Mia to take care of. I don’t need anything else distracting me.”

“Not even that girl?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

A flash of a short brunette, always smiling, pops into my head.

My lips twitch. The time I spent at the coffee shop with Holly was probably the most fun I’ve had in a long while. Watching her make a fool of herself was entertaining, sure, but it was more than that. Hearing about her parents and seeing her so full of life despite her loneliness—it resonated with me. She’s everything I’m not, but I get her. I understand the emptiness she feels inside .

She’s a distraction, that’s for sure. But it’s a distraction I don’t mind. I welcome it. Want it. I’d never admit that to these guys, though. They’d never let me hear the end of it.

My thoughts are interrupted when the door swings open, and in walks Daniel with his trolley, loaded with the alcohol I’d sent him out for.

“Where do you want me to put this, boss?” he grunts, struggling to lift a crate of alcohol in his arms.

“Set it down right here,” I say, gesturing to the stock room behind the bar.

He takes a step forward with the crate still in his arms. I open my mouth to tell him to put it back on the trolley and wheel it here like a sane person, but before I can say anything, he drops the crate. Bottles shatter and alcohol spills everywhere.

“Jesus,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. He’s lucky it’s a slow night.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, boss,” Daniel says, kneeling to pick up the broken glass.

I let out a heavy sigh and move toward him. “It’s fine. Just move over.”

He swallows, nodding as he gets up, and makes room for me to start sweeping up the shards.

“I really am sorry,” he says. “It was just heavy and—”

“It’s fine,” I say again. It’s not like this is the first time a bottle’s been knocked over in this bar.

My mind drifts back to the night Holly came in, drunk and clumsy, knocking over a bottle. I shake my head with a scoff, remembering her disastrous practice date last week. I thought she was exaggerating about not being able to talk to men, but I definitely underestimated how bad she would be.

I glance over at Daniel, who’s staring at his phone, seemingly oblivious. Daniel’s been working for me for a couple of years now. He might be a bit aloof and easily distracted, but I think he might be a good match for Holly. Besides, she did want someone who shares her love for Christmas, and this guy comes to work dressed as an elf during the holidays. Almost fired him for that costume.

“Hey, Daniel.”

He looks up, quickly stuffing his phone into his pocket as if he’s caught doing something wrong. “Yeah, boss?”

“Are you single?”

His eyes widen, and he chokes. “Uh… I’m not…” He clears his throat again and shakes his head. “I’m flattered, but I’m not—”

“Didn’t know you swung that way, kid,” McLanahan interjects, making me narrow my eyes at him.

“No, Jesus.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s not for me,” I clarify, wanting to make it clear that I’m not hitting on him.

“Oh.” Daniel’s brows furrow. “Then, yeah. I’m single.”

I nod, relieved. “I have a friend.”

Snickers erupt behind me, and I fight the urge to turn around and face their smug faces. “A friend, huh?” Johnson says, trying to stifle his laughter.

“It’s a girl, right?” Daniel asks, his tone turning concerned .

“Yes,” I say dryly. “She’s… looking for a date, and I think you guys would hit it off. Would you be interested?”

“You’re really doing this?”

This time I do turn around, my brows knitting as I look between Johnson and McLanahan as they share a look I don’t quite know what to make of. “She asked for my help,” I tell them with a shrug.

“Yeah, but Daniel?” McLanahan says with a scoff.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Yeah,” Daniel adds. “What’s wrong with me?”

McLanahan shakes his head slightly. “You think he’s up for dating her?”

I turn back to Daniel. “What do you think?” I ask. “Are you up for it?”

Daniel purses his lips, deep in thought. “Is she hot?”

Christ . Is that all that guys care about? “Sure.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding. “Cool. Then yeah, maybe… she’s not crazy or anything, right?”

I blink . Define crazy . “She’s very hot,” I say instead.

That seems to please him because he smiles. “Alright. Yeah. I’m down.”

I nod. “Good. I’ll set it up.”

“Cool,” he says with a grin.

I finish sweeping up the glass, and my shoulders slump when I catch McLanahan and Johnson’s expressions. “What?” I ask, wondering what’s got them so amused.

“You set her up on a date,” McLanahan says.

“Of course I did. That’s what she asked me to do. ”

He hums in agreement, nodding slowly. My shoulders relax, thinking the topic is done, but then he speaks again. “And you’re completely fine with that?”

“What are you getting at?”

He shrugs. “She’s cute.”

My eyes narrow involuntarily, my spine straightening at McLanahan’s words. “She’s young,” I remind him.

He scoffs. “She’s not that young.”

“She’s ten years younger than me,” I point out, the realization hitting me like a blaring alarm.

Both McLanahan and Johnson raise their eyebrows. “Damn.”

Yeah . “And I’m not looking for anything even remotely close to what you’re insinuating,” I tell them as I finish making sure the room is clear of glass.

McLanahan snickers and glances at Johnson. “How long has it been?” he asks. “Since… you know.”

My jaw tightens, and I head out to sweep up the rest of the glass on the floor. I know exactly what he’s asking, and I’m not going to dignify it with a response.

“Okay, I get it,” he says as I work, his voice slightly muffled. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“About time,” I mutter under my breath.

He laughs, giving me a light pat on the shoulder, making me look up at him. “Think about what I said,” he says, tossing me a wink before he and Johnson head for the door.

“I’d rather not,” I reply, hearing him laugh as the door swings open and shuts behind them.

The old man has clearly lost his mind. What was he even thinking, bringing that up? Holly is only in my life because she needs my help finding someone who’s perfect for her—someone who shares her love for cheesy movies and Christmas. That’s not me, and it never will be. Hopefully, this all works out, and she finds exactly what she’s looking for with someone who can truly make her happy.