“We like to have fun.”
She laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”
Her eyes twinkled a bit under the low lighting as she assessed me in a new way. She didn’t look at me like I was dirty and beneath her, but rather like I was an old friend, one who reminded her of youth.
She was only nineteen, but the sadness in her eyes in that moment told me she lost her innocence a long time ago.
I didn’t realize I was staring at her, that we’d gravitated toward each other just marginally until she cleared her throat and stepped an inch back.
“So,” she said, eyes surveying the barrels. They were stacked thirty high and a hundred back, each of them aging to the perfect taste. “Which of these beauties is mine?”
“The single barrels are back here,” I said, walking us down one of the long rows of barrels.
Ruby Grace’s eyes scanned the wooden beasts as we walked, and I opened my mouth to spout off the usual selling points of a single barrel — how limited they are, how no one else would have a barrel of whiskey that tasted like hers, how each barrel was aged differently, for different time periods, and at different temperatures. But the words died in my mouth before they could come out, a question forming, instead.
“So, you’re buying a barrel for your fiancé, huh?”
Her eyes were still on the barrels, the corners of them creasing a little as a breath escaped through her parted lips.
“That’s right.”
I eyed her ring again.
“When’s the big day?”
“Six weeks from Sunday,” she sighed the words, fingers reaching up to drag along the wood as her heels clicked along in the otherwise-silent warehouse.
I whistled. “That’s pretty soon. You ready?”
Ruby Grace stopped, her fingers still on the wood as she eyed me under furrowed brows. “What?”
I arched a brow. Did I say something wrong?
“For the wedding? To be married? You know, commit yourself to someone for the rest of your life, that little thing you said yes to?”
She swallowed. “I… Well, no one has asked me that.”
“No one asked you if you were ready to get married?”
She shook her head.
Somehow, the rows of barrels felt smaller, narrower, like they were moving in on either side of us, pushing us together centimeter by centimeter.
There was so much wrong with the fact that no one had asked her that pivotal question — at least, in my mind. Here was this young girl, not even twenty years old, not even close to her prime years, and she was settling down. It wasn’t unheard of in Stratford, or anywhere else in Smalltown, USA. Plenty of my friends got married right out of high school. Most of them had kids before they could even have a legal drink.
But something told me that wasn’t what Ruby Grace had pictured for herself.
“Well, I’m asking. Are you ready?”
She blinked, and it was as if that blink stirred her from the thoughts she’d been tossing around. She started walking again, folding her arms gently over her chest. I watched her try to slip on the same disguise she’d been wearing when she introduced herself to me. She wanted the world to believe she was poised — a polished woman, a dignified lady who didn’t take shit.
But the truth was, she was still a girl, too. She was still nineteen. Who made her feel like that wasn’t okay? To just be a nineteen-year-old girl who doesn’t have it all figured out yet?
“Of course,” she finally answered. “I mean, Anthony is great. He’s older than me, twenty-five to be exact, and he’s so mature. He just graduated with his master’s in Political Science from North Carolina. That’s where we met,” she said, her head leaning toward me a bit on that note. “At a party on campus. He said the first time he saw me, he knew I’d be his wife one day. Which is so sweet. And he’s on track to be in politics for life.” She smiled, but it didn’t mask the slight shake of her voice. “The engagement happened a little faster than I expected… I mean, we’ve only known each other a year. But I think when you know, you know. You know?”
I smirked in lieu of answering.
“And Mama was so excited when we announced our engagement, she wanted to do the wedding right away. It’s crazy, knowing we have what usually is about a year’s worth of work to do in six weeks. But, she’s been taking care of a lot of it… Lord knows that woman loves a project.” Her voice trailed off on a soft laugh before she spoke again. “And Anthony, he’s exactly what my family had in mind for me. And we get along, you know? We have so much fun.”
Why did it feel like she was trying to convince me? Or maybe, it was herself she was trying to convince.
“And you love him,” I pointed out.
She paused, eyes flicking to mine as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Right. And I love him.”
I could have stared at her all day, deciphering her like a riddle that had an obvious answer if I just thought about it long enough. But she shifted under my gaze, and one glance at the rock on her finger reminded me that she was someone else’s puzzle to put together — not mine.
“Well, here they are,” I said, tapping one of the barrels on the back wall. They were stacked just as high as the rest of the room, each barrel stamped with a batch number and an exclusive, gold-plated plaque that had all the details about when it was distilled, barreled, what rows it’s been aged in over time, and more.
“There are so many,” she said, eyes scanning up. “How do I choose? I mean, should I be looking for something specific?”
I scratched at my jaw. “I mean, there is incredible whiskey inside each and every one of these barrels. Part of
