I was sweating by the time we were halfway through all the glassware we never even used at Hart’s pub. Since we didn’t use it, we didn’t have a variance, which made Rosie very bitter.

“There wasn’t even any point in counting any of this,” she mumbled as she sipped on her ice water. We were sitting at one of the tables to take a quick break before we went back and picked up where we left off with the tall glasses. Then we would move to short glasses. Then wine glasses. Then shot glasses. It was tedious nonsense. “Not a damn thing is missing. We could have just filled out the full amount next to the product.”

“If we do it right this first time, all the others will be easier,” I said. “I’m going to pack it all away and reorganize the boxes so that only the same items sit in a box. Then I’ll label everything with how much is in it and seal it. That way the next time we do inventory, we’ll only have to count the stuff we’re actually using behind the bar and on the floor.”

“And in the kitchen,” Rosie added.

“Yes. Exactly.”

Rosie blew out a breath and jabbed at the lemon wedge at the bottom of her glass with her straw. “I hate inventory.”

“I don’t think anyone likes it,” I mused.

She shrugged. “I’m sure there are weirdos out there who find some sort of satisfaction in it. Order. Organization. Perfectionism.”

“True. You ready to get back to it?”

Rosie slumped forward to rest her chin in her hands. “No,” she whined.

I laughed and shook my head at her. Then I got to my feet and grabbed our glasses. “Come on. We’ll put in another two hours, and then we can order pizza or something.”

Rosie sulked after me, and we went back to where we had been working in the storage room. We rotated back and forth, one of us counting and one of us recording numbers on a clipboard. Later, when I had a chance to do some backend work, I would transfer the numbers into an online system.

My father had handed the pub over to me three months ago, and I was working to get everything how I wanted it. He had systems that were outdated and processes that slowed business efficiency down. Once I had all that under control and I found ways to cut some unnecessary costs, I planned on giving all my employees a raise. I liked the team I had built, and I wanted to keep them for as long as I could. Having consistent and reliable people was hard to find, and now that I’d pinned them down, I knew how much value they brought to the pub. The customers loved them, and I loved them. Hart’s Pub was a happy place to work.

And that was all I wanted.

Rosie and I worked our way through another eight boxes of glassware before the two-hour mark passed. I called and ordered pizza, and then we went through one more box before the delivery guy arrived. I paid him, much to Rosie’s protest, and then we went and sat on the floor in front of the bar. I poured her a grenadine and coke and got myself another ice water. I brought over a wad of napkins, and we dug in.

“This is so good,” Rosie groaned, dabbing at the pizza sauce that had stained the corners of her mouth. “I was so hungry.”

“Me too,” I said. “Oh, I meant to ask. How was your little getaway this past weekend with Ryan?”

Rosie blushed and occupied herself with sipping her coke. “Really, really good.”

“Gross.” I laughed.

Ryan had surprised Rosie with a two-night vacation at a luxurious spa hotel in Houston. He’d told me about it weeks before so I could cover her shifts and then he’d showed up at her door when she was getting ready for work on Friday morning and stole her away for a weekend of romance and bliss.

“The food was incredible,” Rosie said. “And he booked us for two-hour-long couples massages. He paid for me to get my nails painted, a facial, a blowout; he’s incredible, Jo. Seriously. I know he’s your brother and all, and it’s weird, but I love him.”

“I know you do,” I said with a smile. “I’m so happy you two are going all in together.”

“So am I. I’ve never been happier.” She popped the rest of her crust in her mouth, and with her mouth still half full, she said, “He even asked if I’d like to start looking at rings with him.”

My eyes widened. “Seriously?”

She nodded joyfully and smiled from ear to ear. “Seriously.”

“Oh, Rosie, that’s fantastic! I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Thank you.” She beamed. “I’m excited. I’ve already been looking at stuff online. Halo cuts. Floral cuts. White gold versus rose gold. There are a lot of decisions to make.”

I giggled and shook my head at her. “I imagine there would be.”

“Mhm,” she said. “Anyway. Enough about me. How are you and Zach?”

“Good,” I said. I could hear how half-hearted I sounded.

Rosie swallowed and stared at me. “That didn’t sound very convincing. What’s up?”

I sighed and leaned back on my hands, stretching my legs out in front of me. “He just seems really distant lately, and I can’t figure it out.”

“How do you mean, ‘distant’?”

“I don’t know, exactly. It’s just a feeling. He’s been coming home later than usual from work. He seems distracted, like his mind is elsewhere, when he used to be so engaged. Last night at dinner, I asked him a question, and he wasn’t even listening to me. I had to repeat myself three times.”

“Isn’t that just a standard guy thing?”

I shook my head. “It’s not a standard Zach thing, though. He’s usually so attentive. He never ignores me. Even if he has his hands full with a big project at work, he’s completely present when he’s at home. But now, I don’t know.” I stopped talking before the lump in my throat turned into full-blown emotion. I refused to cry right now. “Maybe this is all in my head.”

“Have you talked to him about any of this?” Rosie asked.

“No.”

She stared at me blankly. “Then you can’t hold any of this against him. Maybe he doesn’t even know what he’s been doing, how he’s been making you feel. That’s not fair to him. He’s a good man. You know that. Give him a chance to fix this.”

She was right. Of course, she was right. “But I want him to figure it out on his own.”

Rosie rolled her eyes at me. “That is so incredibly childish.”

I blinked at her. “Pardon me?”

“You heard me. That’s a recipe for disaster. Zach is a good man. A smart man. He probably has no idea that he’s acting any different. And if he does, why put it off? Have a conversation with him for crying out loud. You guys have been in a blissful relationship for over a year, and you’re going to act like a spoiled princess at the first sign of a problem? A minuscule problem, I might add. He deserves better than that.”

I sat, feeling suddenly ashamed and embarrassed. Her reprimanding me was deserved. “But what if he says he doesn’t want this anymore?”

“Doesn’t want what, specifically?” Rosie asked.

“Me.”

Rosie got to her feet and laughed loudly at me. “Oh, don’t be daft, Jo. He loves you. And he loves Sam. He doesn’t want out. Trust me.”

“But how can you know that?” I hated that my little insecure self was creeping back in. I hadn’t felt her since I was with Brett, and I didn’t like it. I was supposed to be happy. I was supposed to feel strong and empowered. Not weak and insecure.

“I just do,” Rosie said simply. “I can tell by the way he looks at you. He’s completely invested in you and Sam. You guys are his family. Trust me; you are overthinking this way too much. You need to talk to him.”

I sat quietly on the floor as she packed up the pizza and threw away our napkins and paper plates. When she came back, she sat back down across from me and tucked her dress under her legs. “Maybe things are crazy at work?” she suggested.

I shrugged.

“There are a lot of things that could be making him act differently,” Rosie offered.

“It’s not work. He thrives under pressure. And it’s never been an issue before.” I paused, biting the inside of my cheek.

“What are you thinking?”

“What if he wants to go back to flying in the Air Force?”

Rosie sighed. “Jo. You can sit here and wonder and stress all you want. But it doesn’t change anything. You’re probably blowing this whole thing out of proportion.”

“I know. I know. Just talk to him.”

“Yes. Seriously. You’re a grown-ass woman. Handle yourself.”

We went back to work counting glassware. I messed up the count three times in a row, and Rosie handed me the clipboard. She stepped in and started counting and telling me the numbers to write down. It worked much better.

My mind was in all the wrong places. I was stressing about Zach. I couldn’t shake the fear that maybe I just wasn’t enough for him. Was there such a thing as a one-year itch?

This was a life he’d never envisioned for himself. I knew that. Everyone knew that. He wanted to spend his life in the sky. He craved freedom like it was air. I used to feel the same way until I had Sam. Then all I wanted was to be the best mother I could for him. I still struggled with guilt over how I handled the first four and a half years of his life, but I was slowly putting it behind me.

If Zach decided he didn’t want us anymore, I had no idea what I would do.

Sam would be devastated.

I would be broken.

Everything would fall apart and—

“Jo,” Rosie said loudly.

I looked up at her, startled. She was leaning over a box and staring at me. I was crying, and I hadn’t even noticed.

Rosie straightened up and came toward me. She took the clipboard out of my hands and put it on the shelf to her right. Then she pulled me into a hug. “I’m sorry if I was too stern. But I know you. And I know Zach. It’s hard to have perspective when you’re caught in the middle of it. He’s not going to leave. I promise.”

“How can you promise that?”

“Because I can. Now believe me. Okay?”

I nodded into her shoulder, even though I didn’t believe her at all. Fear was unfurling inside me and breaking down all my defenses. I couldn’t live without him. Not after I’d tasted the sort of happiness he brought to my life and to Sam’s. We needed him to be whole.

Rosie stroked my hair and spoke soothingly to me. I appreciated her efforts to comfort me, but I was tempted to go back to my old coping ways. I was tempted to be alone. That was how I handled the bad days with Brett. I’d lock myself away from everyone until I’d suppressed my sadness, disappointment, and anger, and then I would resurface when I had my mask on straight again.

But I had a feeling Rosie wouldn’t let me do that, and neither would Zach, even if he wanted to leave.