“You added another beer to the tap.” Donovan was in his usual Thursday after work place at the bar in Keane’s pub.

“Yeah, this is from the microbrewery in Cut Bank.” Keane tilted the handle to pour the gold colored brew into a pint glass for his friends. “This is their oatmeal stout.” The foam had settled enough for Donovan and Kent to see the gold make way for the darker hues of the beer.

“Have you two had your first fight yet?” Keane leaned against the bar ready for the juicy details of Donovan’s newlywed life.

“Other than the fiasco Lloyd’s girlfriend caused? No.” He considered the question and couldn’t figure out why Keane asked it. “We’ve known each other for all our lives. What would there be to fight about?”

Keane rubbed his chin in thought. “Hmm, where shall I begin? What colors to use for the bathroom?”

“Or how the deer head belongs in a different room. Usually the garage or the basement,” Kent added.

Raising his finger and pointing to address the next issue, Keane said, “We must remember how we don’t know how to organize our kitchen.”

“Like I’ve said all along because we were friends for so long we already knew each other’s issues.” Donovan took a drink of his beer. The smooth liquid had a deep taste that lingered long after he swallowed it. However, the aftertaste was sweet, not bitter like most beers.

“Issues are hidden until you have to make room for other things.” Keane looked apologetically at Donovan. Like he missed something everyone else could see.

Thinking his other friend would take his side, Donovan turned to Kent for support. Before he opened his mouth to say something like, “Tell our friend he is mistaken,” he saw the same look of incredulity in Kent’s eyes too.

Donovan was getting ready to launch into an explanation of how his engagement and prenuptial agreement set up the parameters of the relationship when he noticed Keane’s attention was elsewhere. His eyes followed the invisible trail Keane had made. At the edge of the front window, he saw Hannah and Katie from the County Extension office pass by. He returned his attention to Keane who, in the absence of what had distracted him in the first place, blinked and began wiping the counter.

“What was that?” Donovan used his thumb to draw an imaginary line connecting Keane to Hannah. “Do you have a thing for her?”

“No.” It was Keane’s turn to exercise the skill of denial. “Can’t a guy enjoy an attractive woman when she walks by?”

“For the record, she’s been attractive for years. You were acting like it was the first time you saw her.” Donovan motioned to stand. “If you want I can go get her and bring her back to talk to you.”

“I’m good. Anyway, we’re talking about your marital issues. Or the lack of them.” Keane replied.

“I don’t have any issues.”

“And that is a problem,” Kent said. “She just moved into the house you have owned for the last fifteen years and settled in with no issues. I hate to say it, but that is an issue.”

“It is called a honeymoon period,” Donovan defended. However, in the back of his mind, the yellow flag of caution waved its warning signal.

“It is called your dear wife, Becca, is not invested in the relationship. If anyone should know about that it would be me.” Kent warned.

Donovan wanted to negate Kent’s advice by calling it a lingering bitterness that came from his friend’s wife leaving him for another man. Then again, who would know the signs of infidelity better than the man who had survived it? But it didn’t make sense. Whenever he called, Becca happily answered the phone. She was never too tired or too busy for sex. Was it possible that her sexual appetite surpassed his ability to match it?

“Has Abigail said anything about her talking to any other men?”

Kent’s response was interrupted by the front door opening. Abigail, Dina and Becca walked into the pub. It was as though the mention of her name made Donovan’s wife appear.

Becca came up alongside him and gave his hand a squeeze that conveyed a warm hello. Since they’d returned from their honeymoon, the public displays of affection pulled back to subtle touches and eye contact that hinted at the special connection between the two of them. Up until ten minutes ago, he liked that they weren’t overtly expressive. Now he was second guessing the behavior. Maybe he should have put it out there a little more that she was his wife.

He loved Becca more than anyone, Becca included, could know. There had been times when he woke in the night and laid in silence and full of awe at her beauty watched her sleep. After all these years, she was in his bed as his wife. It was almost too good to be true. He hoped that she shared the sentiment within the gleam in her eye.

“Do you ladies want to try a sample of our newest beer?” Without waiting for an answer, Keane placed three mugs on the table.

The smile all but disappeared from Becca’s face. “No, I’m good. I’ll just have water with lemon.”

Dina answered, “I’ll have my usual wine.”

Abigail scrunched her face while considering her choices. “I’m not feeling beer right now. How about a soda?”

“None of you are going to try the beer? What? Is one of you pregnant?”

All three women startled. “Not it,” Abigail called out.

“Since when did wine become the pregnant woman’s beverage of choice?” Dina’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“And we know that isn’t happening anytime soon in our house.” Donovan broke his code of being openly affectionate and wrapped his arm around Becca’s waist to pull her closer to him.

She choked and tapped on her chest while she coughed to loosen her throat.

Donovan tapped on her back while she took sips from the glass of water that Keane slid in front of her.

“I was just joking around.” Keane’s explanation was his way of apologizing. After the chip incident, Donovan noticed how he worked to stay on Becca’s good side.

When she caught her breath, Becca said, “I’m fine. Something just went down the wrong pipe.”

The front door opened, and a family came through the door signaling the beginning of Keane’s dinner rush. The friends had been at his pub for so many years they knew the signs of the ebbs and flows of his business routine. Donovan placed his money on the bar. “It looks like it’s time for us to head home.” With the gesture, the friends said their goodbyes and promised to call each other tomorrow. As they stepped on the sidewalk outside the pub, Donovan thought to himself, “It doesn’t get any better than this.”