28 LUKEAnother few days passed and I worked even harder, throwing myself into the distillery with everything I had. Business was booming, and the regular order from the bar had doubled in the span of a week. Occasionally, Duke or Molly would stop by to see what was going on—and to talk to me yet again about Charlotte—but for the most part, this was my baby. My big chance to make a difference.
Still, every night I pulled out my phone and did what was quickly becoming a ritual. I opened f*******:, i********:, and Twitter, searching for any mention of Charlotte, but Molly was right. Charlotte hadn’t posted anything since the day before she left.
The only way to know she was okay would be to call her.
To ask how she was doing.
To beg her to come back.
I took a deep breath. For days, this
