Dewey, the local weatherman, might have been a smart cookie when it came to meteorology, but that same smart cookie was dreadfully dull and soggy. Even with some drinks in him, Dewey clung firmly to talk of nebulous clouds, storm fronts, and wind velocity.

“Glad we can suffer together,” Brady responded, voice also low. However, he wasn’t kidding.

The conversation around the table kept to the festival, with the occasional mention of the food. Brady and Sloane were keyed in to gossip leftover from the last few festivals—like Brenda Ballard making out with Levar Thomas after the kissing booths had already been torn down and Rebecca Callers drunkenly booing the Arbor Bay Academy’s performance in the play Little Fishies in the Bay—and all talk of the blog stalled out. Sloane loosened up, smiled more, and even chatted with one of the servers for a bit.

It wasn’t until they’d finished off their food and he was thinking about another Bellini that Felicity decided to talk to him. Which quieted everyone else.

“You know, I saw the list of businesses participating in the different festival activities, but Cassidy’s Place wasn’t on it.” Her brows pinched together, and she looked close to scolding him. “I know you don’t like stepping out of your comfort zone, but it might be a good idea to try to do something. Especially since the bar hasn’t been that popular lately, what with The Drinking Spot moving in.”

There it was.

The tone.

The pity.

The you poor, dreamless fool.

“Actually,” Sloane started, “we were hoping to throw a party at the bar.” Smiling, she reached out and placed her hand on top of Brady’s. “Like a kickoff event Friday night.”

“Really?” Felicity looked at Brady.

He squeezed Sloane’s hand, trying to remind her of their secret code.

“It was Brady’s idea, but I turned it down at first,” Sloane continued. “I thought for sure we’d get caught together, but now? Well, now everyone knows about us, so why not?”

“That would be wonderful,” Arnesha chimed in, practically salivating. “Even more opportunity for publicity for the town.”

Marcus seconded the sentiment. “Not to mention, it would be nice to have an option to drink after spending, I’m sure, countless hours on a parade float we all know is going to lose against Carol and her gardening club.”

Queen Bee, once again, didn’t look amused with where the conversation had gone.

“We usually have drinks here the night before,” she said. “It’s unofficial, of course, but a lot of the people participating in the parade show up.”

“But that’s unofficial, dear.” Mrs. Robertson looked at Brady this time, something she hadn’t done much since they’d sat down. “We could make Cassidy’s Place the official kickoff party spot. Hosted by the internet’s new favorite couple! What do you say?”

Sloane pumped his hand twice.