Chapter 9
NINE
“Another?”
The server at the cafe across the street from the loft suspended her pot halfway between them. Hanna watched the burnt coffee grounds swirl at the bottom of the pot.
"Thanks," she said, folding her book and resting it on the table as she slid her mug closer. She’d been working all morning and finally had finally taken a break to read a bit.
“Hanna!” Her head snapped up, Chloe’s fiery red hair barrelling toward her, Milo trailing closely behind.
“Oh, hey guys,” Hanna said. Chloe slipped into the booth across from her. She reached for Hanna’s book and flipped it over.
“Oh my god, I just finished this series. It’s so good,” Chloe said.
Milo slid into the booth next to Chloe, nudging her over the same way he did on the couch during movies and baseball games.
They’d only left the same arrangement twelve hours ago, Chloe’s feet tucked under her body as they’d passed boxes of wings back and forth.
Hanna tried not to wonder if Chloe had gone home before showing back up for lunch.
Not that it was any of her business.
“I love it so far,” Hanna said. “Sara ripped through them all in, like, two weeks.”
“Can’t blame her. You’re just about to hit the really good parts,” she giggled.
“Pervs,” Milo said, stealing a sip of Hanna’s coffee.
“I don’t know how you two drink that diner coffee black,” Chloe said, reaching for one of the stuck-together menus parked behind a decades-old napkin holder.
“It’s the whiskey,” Hanna said. “He’s destroyed my taste buds since getting here.”
“You two are just so tough,” Chloe mocked. “I’m looking at the pastry case. Need anything?”
“Nah,” Milo said.
“I was asking Hanna,” Chloe replied.
“I’m good,” Hanna said.
“We’re not intruding on your date with a shadow daddy, are we?
” Milo asked, snagging her book. He flipped it over and cracked it to a random page.
Hanna blushed preemptively. It didn’t matter what page he opened to.
There was bound to be something on it she’d never have the courage to read out loud.
“Jesus,” Milo gasped. It was rare to catch a pink blush on him, but whatever he read did the trick. He closed the book and set it back down on the table. “I didn’t know you got down like that, Arizona.”
“Yeah well, you wouldn’t, would you?” she asked, raising a brow.
Whatever she’d awoken in him flashed across his eyes in a sparkling ignition. He leaned close, the heat of his breath on her neck.
“Whose fault is that? I told you, you’re but a therapist away from a good time.”
“Shut up,” she groaned, pushing him back toward his side of the booth. “You’re so full of shit.”
“You’ve thought about it.”
Maybe it was the caffeine rush, maybe it was the four chapters of smut she’d consumed before he sat down, but she bit.
“Aren’t you here with your girlfriend?”
Milo shook his head. “I told you—”
“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered. “Casual. It’s all very Summer of Love.”
He took another sip of her coffee, wrapping his hand around the mug.
“You know, a little oxytocin would do you a world of good.”
“I get plenty of oxytocin, thank you,” she muttered, attempting to pry her mug back from his hand.
“Sure,” he said, lowering his voice as he pulled the mug back. “But does your vibrator tell you what a good, good girl you are?”
Her jaw fell open. She resented the laugh that rumbled through his chest.
“Oh, god,” Chloe said as she returned. “What did the degenerate say to you?”
“Nothing,” Milo said, smirking. He drained what was left of her coffee, waving down their server. “Can she get a fresh pot? This one was a little fried.”
“No problem,” the server said, flashing the kind of smile Hanna imagined every woman in San Francisco gave Milo.
“The coffee was fine,” she protested.
“We’re aiming higher than fine, Arizona,” he said, scanning the menu. “You eat yet?”
“I’m just taking a quick break between calls.”
“That’s a no,” Milo said to Chloe. The server returned, setting a fresh mug of coffee down between them. “Can I get the breakfast sandwich, double bacon. She’ll have the Denver omelet, extra bell pepper, if you could.”
Hanna sighed. “Do you fucking study me?”
“He does,” Chloe said. “He does it to everyone.”
“Big Red here will do the French toast, no whipped cream… and it’s June, so peak berry season, strawberries on top, please?” The server scribbled their order down before fading into the kitchen, no doubt forming conclusions about the three of them that amused Hanna.
“While we wait,” Milo said, leaning back in the booth and pointing to the book. “I need one of you to explain knotting to me.”
Hanna choked on her coffee, delighting him. Chloe smacked him on the arm, but gave him a charming wink.
“I’ll draw you a diagram later.”
* * *
“You look cute!” Sara said, tapping Hanna’s shoulder as she brushed behind her in the kitchen. “New dress?”
“New to me,” Hanna said. “I went thrifting with Milo and Chloe yesterday.”
Sara reached for a banana swinging from the hook behind her.
“Y’all fucking or what?”
Hanna coughed, her cheeks heating. “They are. I’m just third wheeling.
” Hanna left out the part about Milo offering to include her in the fucking portion of things.
Sara would have never let that go. Not that she’d been thinking about it every second of every day—and not that every time she saw him she was halfway out of her clothes already.
“You’d probably just have to ask, knowing Milo,” Sara said as she scrolled through her phone. “This Vegas group chat is a mess. Think you can get everyone organized?”
Hanna nodded, snagging a piece of the banana. “I will. Tell Matty to send me his wishlist for dinner plans. I know he’s already got a list in his notes app.”
“Perfect,” Sara chimed, setting her phone down and tilting her head. “You look really good, Han.”
“It’s just a dress,” Hanna said.
“I mean, in general. You can tell you’re sleeping better.”
“I feel more like me,” Hanna said, her voice tightening. “I am getting a little nervous about seeing Logan.”
“I was wondering when we’d get there. Have you guys talked at all?”
“No,” Hanna sighed. Not for his lack of trying.
“We’ll spend most of the weekend with the girls,” Sara said. “He’ll hardly be there.”
“You’re right.” And she knew Sara was, but her face still heated, her muscles unconvinced.
* * *
The way the shadows intertwined in the early summer swathes of light over the courtyard brushed against a memory, one she thought she’d locked far enough away that it couldn’t find her in a new city.
She’d spent those early warm days the year prior listening to aunts and uncles argue over floral arrangements and Bible readings in the hospice courtyard, as if any of them had been the one to sign their name on the stack of hospice paperwork confirming that they were, indeed, giving up. As if any of it even mattered.
Every time she signed her name on a receipt, the space between her thumb and forefinger ached—it felt like condemning her mother all over again.
Whatever it was that lurked in the shadows seeped into her skin, bleeding into her veins and souring the day.
“Arizona!”
She closed her laptop halfway, straightening in the patio chair as Milo approached, dressed for the office. He’d left early that morning, and she’d seen him dart from the lobby as she left the diner with her coffee and bagel.
“You got lunch plans?”
Hanna didn’t have a grip around the next five minutes.
“You buying?” she asked, sliding her laptop into her bag.
“If you pretend to be really interested in enterprise-grade infosec software, I can expense it.”
She walked a few blocks with him as he ran her through all of the summer specials he was planning with Frankie, waiting for her approval on each of them.
She nodded and hummed as he spoke, her mind stuck on the phone charger she’d left in the small office center of the hospice home.
It had been one of the really good cords, not the flimsy shit.
She’d never get another one like it.
The restaurant air chilled her shoulders as they wound through wobbling tables. Her eyes stayed fixed on the vinyl coating between them, still thinking about all the things the hospice home had taken from her.
“Thanks, man,” Milo said, and Hanna’s eyes snapped away from his hands. “There she is.” He chuckled as he handed the menu back to the waiter. Hanna hadn’t even noticed he’d arrived.
“What did I order?” she asked.
“Caesar, fries, and a Diet Coke.”
“You’re useful to have around on the weird days, I’ll give you that,” she muttered, shaking her head as if she might be able to loosen the muck clinging to her mind.
“You ever read The Body Keeps the Score?” Milo asked, unfolding the linen napkin on the table and laying it over his work pants.
“I’m a thirty-year-old woman,” Hanna laughed. “Of course I’ve read it, long before the mom shit.”
Milo held his hands up in surrender. “The first year is hard, but the second year is grieving the loss of a person and the loss of the last year of your life.”
The waiter dropped two Diet Cokes on the table with the promise to return shortly.
“I just want to be on the other side of it all,” she said, sipping her drink. “Like you.”
Milo closed his eyes and laughed. “You’ve only seen the good days.”
Her lips sloped. “Don’t tell me that.”
“I think year five was the hardest for me.”
“Five!”
“Ten was really weird, too. Something about another five years just slipping away…”
She sighed, leaning back against the chair and twisting the paper wrapper from her straw between her fingers.
“This conversation is depressing me.”
Milo rolled his eyes. “Your dead mom is depressing you. I’m only calling attention to it.”
Hanna sat up straight, her ears ringing like he’d just punched her.
Lisa passed away. She lost her battle. Or Hanna’s least favorite, the lord called her home.
No one ever called Lisa what she was—dead.
Milo set his drink down. “Hanna—sorry, the direct thing—”