Three weeks after the whiteboard, Gilbert hadn't gotten used to Nate texting one word — tonight— and the whole group rearranging a Thursday around it. He pulled into the lot behind the bar just after close, Audrey's voice fresh in his ear from the call he'd cut short in the driveway. She'd told him to eat something first. He hadn't.
Inside, the chairs were already up on every table except the back room's, and Alex's seat sat empty at the head of it the way it always did, the way nobody had needed to discuss twice in three years. Franz was already there, jacket off, sleeves pushed to the elbow like he'd been helping Nate close out the register. Julian arrived two minutes after Gilbert, Kyle's booster seat visible through the truck window before he parked it around back.
Arianne came in last, Franz standing the second she stepped through the door, though she'd told him a hundred times he didn't need to.
