My Groom Never Showed, So I Cursed Him for Eleven Months novel · Chapter 22 of 24

Chapter 22: The Bar

Finnegan's was nearly empty at three on a Tuesday, and the green neon was off.

Eleven regulars sat along the bar in their coats.

They did not turn the television on, and nobody had ordered, and every one of them looked up when the door opened.

I stopped on the sawdust.

Over the register, where the Bruins pennant had hung for thirty years, there was a framed photograph.

It was Cormac, laughing, at the Hull pier in July, squinting through his glasses with a paper cup in his hand.

Donal had brought it to my father on Sunday.

I had not known until we pulled up outside, when he told me in four sentences with his hands on the wheel.

Beside the photograph, in a plain black frame, hung a sheet of lined paper covered in my father's heavy hand.

My father stood behind the bar in a clean white shirt with the sleeves buttoned.

His apron was gone.

"Dahl," he said.

"Papa."

Donal had gone past me without a word to the little table by the jukebox and sat down in his coat, with his back to the wall.

He did not look at me, and he did not look at my father.

He had said he would be the corner of the room, and he was.

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