That evening, the sisters packed enough clothes for a couple of nights and walked to the market with their backpacks, buying ingredients identical to the ones Brendan dropped into her handcart that first morning in Westport.

Butterfly wings swept her stomach when she knocked on his door, but the strokes turned languid and comforting the moment his extra-large frame appeared in the entrance . . . in gray sweatpants and a T-shirt.

And o-kay. Just like that, the advantages of this living arrangement were already making themselves known.

“Don’t look at my boyfriend’s dick print,” Piper whispered to Hannah as they followed him into the house, sending her sister into doubled-over laughter.

Brendan cocked—ha—an eyebrow at them over his shoulder, but continued on until they reached the guest bedroom, carrying the groceries they’d brought in one hand. The room he led them to was small and just off the kitchen, but it had a nice view of the garden and the bed looked infinitely more comfortable than the bunk back at No Name.

“Thanks, this is perfect,” Hannah said, dropping her backpack on the floor. She turned in a circle to observe the rest of the room and sucked in a breath, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “What is . . . what is that?”

Puzzled by her sister’s change in demeanor, Piper’s gaze traveled from Brendan’s sweatpants to the object that had elicited the reaction. There on the desk was a record player. Dusty and heavy-looking. “I remembered my parents gave me theirs before they moved,” Brendan said, crossing his arms, nodding at it. “Went and got it out of the basement.”

“This is a vintage Pioneer,” Hannah breathed, running her finger along the glass top. She turned wide eyes on Brendan. “I can use it?”

He nodded once. “That’s why I brought it up.” As if he hadn’t just made Hannah’s life, he jerked his chin at the closet. “Put whatever records I could find in there. Might be nothing.”

“Anything will sound like something on this.” Hannah’s knees dipped, and she leapt up, doing an excited dance. “I don’t even care if you unearthed this specifically to drown out the sex noises. Thank you.”

Brendan’s ears deepened slightly in color, and Piper somehow fell further in love with him. Doing something nice for her sister had earned her everlasting devotion. And when he said, in his gruff, reserved way, “No. Thanks for, uh . . . letting me have Piper here,” she almost fainted dead away. “I’ll take that.”

He eased the backpack off Piper’s shoulders, kissed her forehead, and abruptly left the room. They observed his departure like seagulls watching a full slice of bread sailing through the air—and thanks to her harbor jogs, Piper knew what that looked like now. Reverent.

You have to marry him, Hannah mouthed.

I know, Piper mouthed back. What the fuck?

Still no actual sound came out of Hannah’s mouth. Ask him first. Do it now.

I might. Oh God. I might.

Hannah carefully draped herself over the record player. “You can go on double dates with me and my record player. Piper, look at it.” She slumped into the desk chair. “At the expo, I had my eye on this perfect, perfect Fleetwood Mac forty-five. It was too expensive. But if I’d known I had this Pioneer to play it on, I would have splurged.”

“Oh no. It spoke to you?”

“Loud and clear.” Hannah sighed, waving off her sadness. “It’s fine. If it was meant to be, I’ll run into it again one day.” She pushed to her feet. “Let’s go make dinner. I’m starved.”

* * *

The three of them fell into a happy pattern.

In the mornings, Brendan woke Piper up with fingertips trailing up and down her belly, which led to her backside teasing his lap. Sometimes he rolled her over facedown and yanked her up onto her knees, taking her fast and furiously, her hands clinging to the headboard for purchase. Other times, he tossed her knees up over his muscular shoulders and rocked into her slowly, whispering gruff praise into the crook of her neck, the thick push and pull of his shaft between her legs as reliable as the tide, never failing to leave her limp and trembling, her cries lingering in the cool, dim air of his bedroom.

After she’d floated back down to earth from their intense lovemaking, she dressed for her jog and went to meet Abe, helping him up the stairs of the museum before continuing on her way. She’d return home and shower, then have breakfast with Brendan and Hannah before heading to No Name for work in his truck. Apart from the sign, the bar just needed décor and a few final touches. Brendan hung the chandelier, laughing at the way Piper squealed in victory, declaring it perfect. They arranged high top tables and stools, hung strings of lights on the back patio, and cleaned sawdust off everything.

“I’ve been thinking about the name,” Piper said one afternoon, waiting until her sister looked at her. “Um . . . how do you feel about Cross and Daughters?”

A sound rushed out of Hannah, her eyes taking on a sheen. “I love it, Pipes.”

Brendan came up behind her, planting a hard kiss on her shoulder. “It’s perfect.”

“I wish we had a little more time,” Hannah said. “That name deserves a great sign.”

“It does. But I think . . . maybe what’s perfect about this place is that it’s not. It’s personal, not flawless. Right?” Piper laughed. “Let’s paint it ourselves. It’ll mean more that way.”

Hannah’s phone rang, and she left the room to answer, leaving Piper and Brendan alone. She turned to find him scrutinizing her in this way he’d been doing often lately. With love. Attentiveness. But there was more happening behind those eyes, too. He said he wouldn’t pressure her for a decision, but the longer she left him hanging, the more anxious he grew.

They painted the sign on Thursday with big, sloppy buckets of sky-blue paint. Brendan had spent the morning sanding down a long piece of plywood and trimming the edges into an oval shape with his table saw. Once Piper made a rough outline of the letters with a pencil, they were off to the races, applying the blue paint with playful curves and tilting lines. Some might’ve said it looked unprofessional, but all she saw was character. An addition to Westport that fit like an acorn in a squirrel’s cheek. After the paint dried, Brendan stood by anxiously, prepared to catch them if they fell off the ladders they’d been loaned from the hardware store. Now they affixed it over the faded original sign with his nail gun, Brendan instructing them patiently from the ground. When the sign was nailed on all sides, the two sisters climbed down and hugged in the street.

She couldn’t say for certain how Hannah felt about having the bar completed, but in that moment, something clicked into place inside Piper. Something that hadn’t even existed before she landed in this northwest corner of the map. It was the welcome home Henry Cross had deserved but never got. It was a proper burial, an apology for deserting him, and it soothed the jagged edges that had appeared on her heart the more she’d learned about her father.

“Now all we need is beer,” Hannah said, stepping back and wiping her eyes. “And ice.”

“Yeah, time to call the wholesaler, I guess. Wow. That was fast.” She peered up at the sign, warmed by the curlicue at the end of “Daughters.” “If we want to serve spirits eventually, we’ll need a liquor license.”