It’s not long before Shelby creeps into my thoughts. I can’t separate her from this. That’s the nature of reality television. To make this work, we need viewers to tune in week after week. This needs to be binge-worthy and that’s Shelby. She brings the story and the local connection.

By now I’m hitting the edges of Le Croix. The athletic fields are sprawling, and the buildings are coming closer together and have a trendy, liberal tilt to their exteriors. Rainbow pride flags, Black Lives Matter signs, people walking their dogs and riding bikes and sipping coffee as they FaceTime with friends. It’s still the Midwest, and we’re only minutes from the farm fields, but it’s like a whole different world.

I turn on my phone’s GPS and it navigates me to my friend’s building, just a block from Lake Michigan. I drive around another few minutes, looking for street parking, before giving up and pulling into a parking structure. If it were up to me, I’d drive around longer, looking for a cheaper option, but I’ll happily bill this to Lyle.

Lake Shore Distillery is modestly full for a Saturday afternoon. It’s dimly lit with soft recess lighting and warmed by a huge stone fireplace in the center of a wide-open sitting area. Everything is glass and hardwoods, and flames reflect off every gleaming surface. I head directly for the bar and settle myself on a white oak stool. A bartender places a napkin in front of me.

“I’m definitely going to have a drink, but I’m looking for Kevin VonHause?”

“Riggs!” a voice shouts from the doorway leading to a kitchen area of sorts. It’s Kevin’s wife and college sweetheart, Beth. Before I’m off the stool, she’s in front of me, her arms wrapping me a warm hug. I stare at her growing belly. “Beth! When are you—”

She laughs. “Not for another four months or so. It’s just so soon after the other two. These days, all Kev has to do is look at me and I’m knocked up again. It feels like I’ve been pregnant for years, honestly.”

“You wear it well,” I say. And I mean it. Beth’s heart-shaped face is glowing.

“Kev’s in the back on a call with a distributor.” She waves a hand at the bartender. “Take five, Sven. This is Cameron Riggs. He’s basically family and he’s not going anywhere.”

She slides behind the bar and starts preparing me something without asking what I want. I don’t argue. It’s four o’clock, but I’ll never turn down a meal, so I grab a menu. “Anything to eat here?”

She rolls her eyes. “Obviously. Locally sourced, with vegan and gluten-free options.”

I grin. “A cheeseburger is fine.”

“How long are you here? Are you really staying for a while?”