Chapter Eight #2
“Found and lost.” I pick at a loose thread on my skirt. “He was gone when I got out of the shower. Just left a note about checkout time.”
“Men.” Hannah rolls her eyes, then suddenly sits up straight. “Oh! Speaking of men — I completely forgot to tell you my news with all this drama!”
The excitement in her voice makes me lift my head. “What news?”
Hannah bounces on the couch cushion, her red curls wild with excitement. “I got the promotion! Full agent status, not just an assistant anymore.”
“What?” I sit up straighter, my own troubles momentarily forgotten. “Han, that’s incredible!”
“I know!” She beams, practically vibrating. “I start next week. Real assignments, not just paperwork and coffee runs.”
“Details. I need all of them.” The familiar role of supportive best friend feels like slipping into a warm bath after the chaos of the last twenty-four hours.
“Well, I can’t tell you everything, obviously. Because then I’d have to kill you.”
I shove her arm. “Dork!”
“Okay, fine.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “I’ll be working protection detail. You know those fancy diplomatic events you’re always organizing? I might actually get to attend some now — though I’ll be scanning for threats instead of sipping champagne.”
“Protection detail?” My eyebrows shoot up. “Like, actually guarding people?”
“Yep.” She pats her hip, where I know she normally keeps her concealed weapon. “All that training is finally paying off. Though Mom’s still telling everyone I work in ‘government administration.’”
“Because that sounds so much better than ‘secret agent.’” I lean forward, curiosity piqued. “So, what exactly does protection detail involve? Will you be wearing those cool earpieces and talking into your sleeve?”
Hannah’s blue eyes sparkle. “Maybe. Depends on the assignment. But first, I have to complete another round of specialized training…”
“So, you’ll be carrying a gun all the time now?” I lean forward, fascinated by this new side of my best friend.
“Already do.” Hannah pats her hip again. “But now I’ll be authorized to use it in more situations. Plus, there’s all kinds of cool gadgets they’re training us on.”
“Like what?”
“Can’t tell you specifics.” She winks. “But let’s just say James Bond has nothing on our tech department.”
“God, this is so weird.” I shake my head, studying her familiar freckled face. “My sweet, baking-obsessed roommate is actually a badass federal agent.”
“Hey, I can be both!” Hannah protests. “The best covers are the ones hiding in plain sight. No one suspects the girl who stress-bakes chocolate chip cookies at midnight.”
“Speaking of which…” I sniff the air. “Are your muffins burning?”
“Shit!” She bolts toward the kitchen, returning moments later with a tray of slightly overdone but still edible cinnamon muffins. “See? Perfect agent behavior. Creating a believable domestic mishap to maintain my cover.”
I grab a muffin, tearing off a piece. “Does this mean I need to watch what I say around you now? In case you’re secretly investigating me?”
“Please.” Hannah rolls her eyes. “If I was investigating you, you’d never know. I’m way too good at my job.”
“Is that right?” I arch an eyebrow. “What if I’m actually a deep-cover Russian spy? Been playing the long game all these years, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.” The irony of my joke isn’t lost on me.
Hannah strikes a dramatic pose. “Then it would be my duty to take you down. Though I’d feel really bad about it. And probably still make you stress-baked snacks in prison.”
We dissolve into giggles, the tension of my Gianni heartbreak temporarily forgotten in this moment of shared ridiculousness.
“Seriously though,” I say once we catch our breath. “I’m really proud of you, Han. You’ve worked so hard for this.”
“Thanks, babe.” She grins. “But I couldn’t have done it without you. Let’s celebrate!”
I groan inwardly, not relishing the idea of another bout of socializing. “Sure,” I say cautiously. “What did you have in mind?”
“Let’s order takeout and binge-watch something mindless.” Hannah pulls her wild curls into a messy bun. “I’ve got a new batch of those Korean face masks we can try.”
“God, yes.” I sink deeper into our weathered couch cushions. “As long as it’s not another one of those wedding shows.”
“Deal.” She tosses me the remote. “Though I should warn you — now that I’m officially Agent Collins, I’ll probably spend the whole time pointing out inaccuracies in any spy movies.”
“Still better than watching ‘Say Yes to the Dress.’” My fingers brush over my bare ring finger, but the sting isn’t quite as sharp. “Though maybe we should stick to comedies tonight.”
Hannah flops down beside me, tucking her feet under my legs like she’s done a thousand times before. The familiar weight grounds me, reminds me that some things haven’t changed. That not every relationship is built on lies.
“You know what this calls for?” She bounces up again. “Ice cream for lunch. We still have that emergency pint of Rocky Road in the freezer.”
“The one behind the frozen peas?”
“That’s our breakup ice cream, and this definitely qualifies.” She returns with two spoons and our battered carton of comfort food. “Though technically, it’s also my promotion ice cream now. Two birds, one pint.”
The first bite of chocolate and marshmallow melts on my tongue. Here, in our cozy bubble of friendship and sugar, the chaos of the last twenty-four hours feels almost manageable. Almost.
I can convince myself that my night with the Russian stranger was a moment of temporary insanity. But sooner or later, I’m going to have to face Gianni.
I just can’t do it right now.