Chapter 20 Connor
Connor
My head pounded with every heartbeat, a steady throb behind my eyes that made me regret every single shot Alex had convinced me to take. My mouth tasted like I’d licked the floor of a distillery. When I swallowed, my stomach lurched in protest.
Hannah laid strewn across me again, just like three months ago—her legs twined with mine, her arm possessive around my waist. Except this time, instead of her tank top and sleep shorts, she was naked. We both were.
And just like before, I was overwhelmed… because I knew this couldn’t last.
Even through the hangover fog with nausea crawling up my throat, I couldn’t bring myself to move. Not when Hannah was pressed against me like this, soft and warm and mine for however much longer I could keep her.
My brain churned, trying to figure out how to fix this mess I’d created by telling her that we’d end things after the wedding.
Long distance.
That was the only solution that made sense.
It was only three or four hours by car, six by train.
I could leave after work on Friday and be at the apartment when she got home from work, spend Saturday and Sunday mornings together, then be back for work on Monday.
She could come to New York mid-week and we could spend the evenings together.
While I was at work, she could apply for jobs.
She could put my address on her resume so the recruiters would take her more seriously.
The distance and the opposing schedules wouldn’t be easy, but I wasn’t ready to give her up. Now I just had to convince her to give me a chance.
I’d put my phone on silent last night, not wanting the pressure of Victoria’s travel plans hovering over us. Instead of riding in her car, I could take the train tonight, or maybe tomorrow. After I asked Hannah for more time.
But my plans hadn’t accounted for the loud knock against the front door.
The pounding matched the rhythm in my skull, each rap making my head throb worse. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing whoever it was to go away.
The knocking became more insistent.
I shifted out from under Hannah, moving slowly to keep my stomach from revolting, brushing the hair off her face as she drooled into my pillow, and pulled on sweats and a tee shirt.
Victoria Blackstone stood in the hallway, her expression impatient and hand lifted like she was ready to knock again.
“You weren’t answering your phone,” she said, lifting a tray with three coffees in offering, the strong acidic smell making my stomach churn.
She handed me a coffee, which I wanted to mainline into my bloodstream to offset the pounding headache. My stomach lurched at the first sip, and I had to swallow hard to keep it down. "How are you so functional right now?"
“No shots for me, I know how to deflect Alex's negotiations.” Then her smile softened. “Plus Cruz made me chilaquiles this morning.”
I groaned, my stomach protesting the idea of food, even salty hangover food. Maybe I could keep down some Saltines.
I stepped back, allowing her into my apartment. Her gaze swept the space—the worn hardwood floors, the secondhand coffee table, the couch I’d hauled across the country—and I felt a flash of self-consciousness, compounded by the fact that I was pretty sure I still smelled like tequila.
She sank onto the couch without hesitation, like the threadbare cushions didn’t bother her at all, and I wondered if she remembered it from the last time she’d visited my home, back in San Francisco.
Christmas Day, three years ago. We’d been working fourteen-hour days on a merger deal and planned to work straight through the holiday, but my mom had insisted that I invite Victoria and Alex over for a homemade Christmas dinner.
So they'd driven up to Marin County for the day for a feast that Mom and I spent all morning putting together.
Alex still talked about Mom's apple pie.
Though the thought of it right now made my stomach lurch.
“You missed quite the afterparty," Victoria said.
“Yeah?” I said, sitting beside her. “Alex was pretty wasted when I left.”
“It only got worse upstairs. He stuck his foot so far down his throat with his brother that he nearly choked on it.” She smiled fondly, shaking her head at Alex’s propensity to run his mouth.
"Sounds right," I nodded.
“But before that, we were talking about his hiring struggles.” Victoria turned towards the windows, blinking softly with a mile-long stare into the distance. In a soft voice, she said, “It got me thinking about my mom.”
I stilled, coffee halfway to my lips. In six years of daily conversation, Victoria had brought up her mom only a handful of times. It was hallowed ground we both tread carefully.
“When my mom died,” her expression softened, “God, it was so sudden. She kept so much information in her head, and when she was gone, everyone struggled to work without her.” She exhaled sharply. “I feel like I did that to Alex, leaving without notice.”
My chest tightened, remembering how fast that day had gone.
Victoria’s dad came to our office to inform her that not only had her grandfather passed away, he’d named her as his heir and successor, thrusting her into not just leadership as CEO of a Fortune 100 company…
but back into a life she’d tried to leave behind.
That morning, everything was normal. The next day, we'd both moved and she was facing a press conference of journalists to talk about her new life.
I placed my hand gently over hers. “You didn’t really have a choice, Tori,” I said, using her nickname to remind her that we were friends too, beyond just our professional relationship. “You suddenly had thousands of employees relying on you.”
“But I was also a partner in Blackstone & Clarke. And I took you with me, which left Alex high and dry.” She blinked rapidly, but her lip kicked up in a half smile.
“You left everything well documented, way better than my mom did… but last night, Alex told me that he was worried about how it would run while he was on his honeymoon.”
She took a deep breath, like she was bracing herself for the impact of something she didn’t want to say. “And maybe I was feeling generous because of all the bourbon, but I told him that if you wanted to, you could stay here and cover for him while he’s gone next week.”
I felt my jaw drop open, and she tapped my chin condescendingly. “Don’t look too surprised. You know how Alex’s drunk ramblings and puppy dog eyes just make me want to shut him up.”
I laughed, but something tightened in my chest. That familiar feeling of being overlooked and unnecessary. “Don’t you need me in New York?”
“Of course I do,” she said. “But I’m considering this as an opportunity to see how you handle running operations at a smaller scale.
Alex needs someone who understands how the firm operates.
You built half those systems. It makes sense for you to oversee things while he’s on his honeymoon, train his team in his—”
The bedroom door opened and Hannah appeared in the doorway, wearing my 49ers t-shirt and nothing else, her hair a wild tangle around her face, her eyes still heavy with sleep.
“Connor? I heard—” Her voice died as her gaze landed on Victoria, her hand flying to tug the hem of the shirt lower.
Victoria rose smoothly. “Ms. Donnelly, good morning.”
“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—” Hannah’s cheeks flushed pink. “I’ll just—”
She disappeared into the bedroom before I could say anything.
Victoria’s gaze flicked to Teresa’s closed bedroom door then back to my bedroom door where Hannah had just disappeared, then back to me, one eyebrow raised. I felt heat crawl up my neck.
Victoria settled back onto the couch with an air of studied casualness. "I thought you didn't do sleepovers."
I opened my mouth to deflect, to explain that it was different when you part-time lived together… but what came out was: “It’s complicated.”
“It always is,” Victoria said, watching me with a soft expression, almost wistful. “What’s her story?”
I could gloss over the messy details. After all, Hannah had asked me not to tell anybody about why she left New York, and I’d agreed. I’d promised.
It’s not my story to tell, I’d told her.
But the gleam in Victoria’s eye told me that she was curious in more than gossip. I hadn’t been this serious about a woman before, and Victoria was vetting her, searching for something deeper.
So I dropped my voice and stuck to the facts.
“She used to be a senior account manager at Callihan & Murphy.” Victoria’s brow rose in recognition.
“But she left suddenly last April.” A quick inhale, and I justified the information sharing in my mind that all of that was on her LinkedIn profile and resume.
“I don’t have all the details, but she’s been having trouble getting interviews at accounting firms. Might be worth looking into. ”
Victoria nodded as the bedroom door opened again, and Hannah emerged wearing jeans and a sweater, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She’d tried to make herself presentable, but she still looked pale and shaky.
She tried to slip past us toward the kitchen. “I’ll just make some coffee—”
“Already handled.” Victoria lifted the third cup from the tray, extending it toward Hannah. “I saw you two doing shots with Alex, figured you’d be wrecked after last night.”
Hannah froze, her eyes widening slightly as she took the offered coffee. “You knew I…”
Victoria’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Connor’s never ignored my calls for twelve hours straight before.”
“Thank you. For the coffee.”
Hannah glanced at me, then perched on the arm of the couch. I was hyperaware of the way Hannah’s knee bumped against my shoulder. When I glanced at Victoria, I found her watching us.
“Actually, I was just leaving." She stood, smoothed her pants, and moved towards the door, then paused with her hand on the knob. “Connor, I don’t need you back until after New Year’s, if you want to stay.”
The room tilted slightly. “That’s… three weeks.”
My throat felt tight—from emotion or nausea, I couldn’t tell. The tequila, the anxiety, the sudden sharp relief of more time all twisting together in my gut.
“I know.” She smiled faintly, looking vaguely around my apartment. “I didn’t realize how much you had to leave behind in July. Take time to pack, get your affairs in order.” Her gaze flicked to Hannah, then back to me, loaded with meaning. “Take care of unfinished business.”
My throat felt tight. “Are you sure you can spare me that long?”
“My dad hasn't retired yet. And the CFO search…” She shook her head. “That’s going to take time regardless. Stay. Pack. Help Alex. Figure out what to bring back to New York with you.”
She opened the door, then paused one more time. “But I have one condition.”
“Yeah?” I would do anything she asked to stay. Hell, I already did anything she asked, but I’d do it double, whether she asked me or not.
She ran her hand over her face to hide her wry smile. “If you stay, you have to help Alex with all his Santa visit logistics. Consider it penance for making me face the office without you.”
I managed a weak laugh that made my head throb. “Deal.”