“Welcome to Ohana’s,” I say to a confused Josie as she sidles up to the bar.

“Who’s Ohana? And since when are you a bartender?”

I point to a framed photo of an adorable black-and-white French bulldog puppy sitting between two liquor bottles.

“That’s Ohana. And I’m still tending bar most nights until we can hire some more people. I figured Charles could use a break...”

“You...what do you do, run this place now?”

“Run and own, along with my co-owner.”

I swear there’s something about working at the former Café Kiev/Lush Republic—now known as Ohana’s—that makes you psychic. As soon as I mentioned my co-owner, I knew she was going to walk through the door.

Maddie walks in, smiling luminously as always, carrying Ohana.

“Hey, Josie,” she yells across the room. “Good evening, Mister Barrett.”

It’s past 4:00 p.m. on a Monday. We just opened, and the place won’t get super crowded for another couple of hours or so.

Maddie carries Ohana into the back office to do some daily bookkeeping. She is, not too surprisingly, better at that shit than I am.

“Ohana.” Josie becomes lost in thought for a moment. “Isn’t that from a Disney movie or something?”

“Lilo and Stitch. But it’s also from the Hawaiian language.”

“Doesn’t it mean family?”

“Well, yeah. We mostly just like the way it sounds. We’ll see if it sticks.”

“Okay.” Josie nods. “Beats fuckin’ Lush Republic.”

I shrug.

“It’s a step in the right direction. What can I get for you?”

“Tonic water.”

“Tonic water and...”

“Lime.”

“That’s all?”

“The night is young.”

Josie’s our first patron of the day, and our second patron walks in while I’m making her drink. It’s someone I don’t think I’ve seen here before, an athletic-looking young man wearing Levi’s and a grey Rutgers sweatshirt. He’s not as fashionable as most of the patrons here, especially Josie...

But, he walks right over to Josie and they kiss each other lustily on the lips.

“Hey, have I seen you here before?” I ask.

“No. This is my boyfriend, Michael.”

Michael nods and smiles politely.

“What can I get you, Michael?”

“Beer.”

“We have, uh...pilsner draught, coming right up.”

It’s been a couple months since that night we saw Josie playing darts here on her own. Whether she was seeing this Michael guy then, I have no idea, but needless to say, a lot has changed.

Maddie did an awesome fucking job negotiating with the landlord of this building. The guy makes a fortune renting the apartments above the bar, and he realized—shortly after the Lush Republic owners left—that the people paying thousands of dollars a month to live here wouldn’t be thrilled about having a tobacconist just below them.

It would be one of the few places in the city they could still smoke indoors—if you’re wondering why they’d give a shit. This bar may still have an old-school feel to it, but nobody’s fucking smoking inside.

The space was empty for a couple days before we signed a ten-year lease, which is standard for a place like this.

More patrons start filing in while I’m serving Michael. Stacia, thank Christ, files in with them.

I’ve been learning a lot in these first few weeks of owning and operating a bar. I mean, it would be a real fucking problem if I weren’t learning, right?

Anyway, one thing I learned about this specific bar is that Stacia not only waits tables, but cooks most of the food herself.

We’re still looking to hire a few chefs, along with a few more bartenders. This place certainly has the cash flow for it.

Selling my apartment and investing in a few safe index funds didn’t hurt, either.

As usual, these days, Maddie and I don’t get home until almost 5:00 a.m.

Where’s home, you ask?

Hey, if you didn’t, that’s okay. I’ll tell you anyway: Saint Mark’s Place, between First and A.

We own an entire fucking building. A brownstone.

It’s been renovated recently, and there are four bedrooms. It was easily affordable after the windfall from my apartment.

“The Captain’s Demise is doing awesome,” Maddie says as we walk up to our bedroom.

“I know, that’s half the drinks I serve every night.”

“I guess you would know, Mister Bartender.”

Business is booming at Ohana’s, and the fact we’re serving some of our favorite drinks from Hawaii is not hurting at all.

Maddie and I kiss as Ohana huffs up the stairs in front of us.

We’re not landlords—this building is meant for a single family, and it has four bedrooms.

What’s going to happen with all of those rooms, you ask?

Again, if you didn’t ask, I’ll answer anyway: I don’t know.

We’ll have to wait and see.

For now, we’ve got a nice, quiet building in the middle of the East Village. And, thankfully, tonight—or, more accurately, this morning—we’re about to get a few precious hours of sleep.

Lying in bed, about to drift off, I realize that there’s a question haunting my mind, something I need to ask Maddie before she falls asleep.

“Hey, Maddie...”

“Make it quick, I need to fuckin’ sleep.”

“Whatever happened to that checked baggage bill?”

“What?”

“When I gave you all those gifts in Hawaii.”

“Oh...I actually got free checked baggage. Lifetime perk.”

“Oh, right. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, love.”

Yeah, my heart just fucking melted when she called me that.

Also, I’ve been able to shed light on a lot of the Mysteries of Maddie now that we live together.

Like, for one, now I know that she was briefly a flight attendant before attending grad school.

I also now know about her asshole ex John, whom she caught cheating on her just before her Hawaiian vacation. Catching a long termer cheating like that, well, I understand why she was a bit guarded when we met.

And what kind of fucking crazy person would cheat on Maddie? It beats me. But, needless to say, I’ve never been happier in my entire life.

Not even close.

We wake up early the next afternoon, and I make Maddie her favorite Sunday breakfast of red velvet pancakes and Hawaiian roll French toast.

Afterwards, it’s time to take Ohana on a nice, long walk around the neighborhood before we get ready to open the bar.

“Man, it’s about time for spring to finally...spring, right?” Maddie tilts up her face to take in the sunshine.

“So much for April being the cruelest month.”

Maddie shakes her head. “T.S. Eliot may have known a lot about cats, but he was a shitty meteorologist.”

It’s a beautiful, warm day here on Saint Mark’s Place. This area has changed a lot over the years.

Or, maybe it’s just the way I see it. That’s part of it, at least.

It all seems so much nicer than it once was.

Warmer.

Friendlier.

I can’t wait to see what the future brings.