Smith POV

A firm hand came down on Willison’s shoulder, jolting him out of the pity party he had been drowning in. He turned his head to see who it was, and Smith smiled.

“Started without me, did you?” Smith asked with a head nudge toward Willison’s empty schooner glass.

“You were taking too long,” Willison replied, straightening from his slouched position against the bar and looking up to get Pete, the barman’s, attention.

“Come on,” Smith said. “The girls have got us a table. I’ll grab the drinks and bring them over.”

“The girls?” Willison asked with a frown. “Amelia and Mia are here?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised....