We ended up at the Lumberyard Brewery, partly because it was walkable, and partly because by then I really was starving, craving something heftier than tapas or a sandwich.
“You sure you’re okay with eating at a brewery?” Connor asked after the waitress had handed us our menus and left to fetch us some water. “I mean — ”
“It’s okay,” I cut in. “I was never much of a lunch drinker anyway. As for the rest….” I shrugged. Thank the Goddess that I really hadn’t drunk excessively after I got back to Jerome, except for that first night. Part of me had wanted to, had wanted to down bottle after bottle in an attempt to erase Connor from my mind. That wouldn’t have solved anything, though, and I’d told myself I wasn’t going to let him affect me that way. Even so, I’d had more than I should. I coul
