“It looks like the bartenders are wrapping up for the night,” she murmured with something akin to disappointment. She worried her bottom lip for a second then asked, “Do you … want to take a field trip?”

“I’m game,” he said with a bit too much enthusiasm. He didn’t want the night to end, yet. “Where to?”

“I want to drown my sorrows in my beer barrels.” She didn’t quite succeed in making it sound like a joke.

“What sorrows?” His eyebrows drew together in concern.

“A corner of my heart feels hollow,” she whispered after a brief hesitation.

“Is it because of the wedding?” Instinct told him it was.

“More or less. I’m happy for Aubrey and Landon. More than words can say. But Aubrey is my best friend and her life is changing … she’s moving on. I can’t help but feel left behind. Stuck in the present.”

He wasn’t sure what to say. Landon was his older brother, and he always seemed to walk a few steps ahead of him. This was just another instance where Landon stepped forward first. But Seth was about to take his own step forward—not toward marriage, but toward professional success and personal growth—by moving to Paris. But if he weren’t, would he feel left behind? Yes. Like a lone tree trunk rooted to the floor of a river.

“She might be moving on, but that doesn’t mean you’re stuck,” he said hesitantly. “It just means that you’ll have to figure out your own way forward.”

“You’re probably right.” She paused as though searching for the right words. “But my best friend grew a mini-human in her stomach, and got married to her soul mate. I’m going to miss daydreaming about the future with Aubrey, because her future is already here.” She tilted her head and met his eyes, seeking reassurance. “It’s normal to feel a little melancholy, right?”

“Without a doubt. And you know what helps with a bout of melancholy?” Seth smiled, wanting to chase away the sadness in her eyes. “Drowning it in copious amounts of beer.”

“Right. Let’s get out of here.”

“Lead the way,” he said, holding out his arm toward the main entrance.

“I’m afraid you need to be my chauffeur,” she said as they walked to the parking lot. “I drove here with my family, and they’re long gone.”

“With pleasure,” he said happily. “You can be my navigator.”

“Actually, are you okay to drive?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve been drinking club soda for most of the night.”

“How very responsible of you,” she teased.

The short drive to Weldon Brewery would’ve been scenic, but it was pitch-black and they couldn’t see beyond the patch of road in front of them. But when they approached downtown Weldon, soft muted streetlights lit the way into the charming town, lined with a potpourri of mom-and-pop stores.

Seth pulled into the brewery’s parking lot and followed Tara inside through the back entrance. When the dim corridor opened up into the dining hall, he let out a long, low whistle. The vaulted ceiling and dark wooden beams bearing its weight made him feel as though he’d walked into a lofty ski lodge. The elegant simplicity and strength of the design alluded to a sense of freedom and steadfastness.