Chapter 12 #2
Hanna handed her the phone and she swiftly launched into rehearsal dinner logistics. When she hung up, she turned to Hanna.
“Oh my god, she’s too much.”
“I love her,” Hanna said, shaking her head as they exited the bridal shop.
“We all love her, but Jesus.” Sara eyed the shops across the street. “Are you though?”
“Am I what?” They strolled around the corner. “Greek or sushi?”
“Greek, and are you being safe?” Sara asked.
Hanna drew a deep breath and ripped off the bandaid.
“We’re not having sex.”
“Oh, shit,” Sara said, throwing her head back and laughing. “I fully expected you to tell me to go fuck myself.”
“Milo is a really good friend,” Hanna said, holding the door open to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant teeming with blue and white flags. “It would be really stupid to complicate that.” It was the truth.
“So, what? You’re just… friends? Would you ever date him?”
“No,” Hanna snorted. “Milo doesn’t date.”
Sara rolled her eyes. “And you don’t do long distance.”
“Exactly. We are just friends. And we’re not having sex,” Hanna reiterated, leaving off the yet. “So it doesn’t matter.”
Sara nodded, her lips pursing as she mulled over a laminated menu.
“Great. This week is definitely not going to blow up in your faces.”
“No! It’s fine.”
Sara and Hanna exchanged a wide stare, both fully aware she was full of shit. Hanna’s phone buzzed as Sara ordered for them.
ALWAYS ANSWER
My apartment smells like you.
HANNA
Sorry.
ALWAYS ANSWER
Wasn’t a complaint, Arizona.
Hanna puffed out a sigh, her cheeks warming. It was already blowing up in her face.
* * *
Sara followed her through the market as she plucked ingredients off the shelves for her favorite pasta dish
A meal Sara was very familiar with.
She raised an eyebrow when they got to the cheese aisle, but didn’t poke at her. Hanna was certain Sara bit her tongue the entire walk home.
“Hanna!” Logan leaned against Milo’s door, his arms folded over his favorite interview suit. Hanna squeezed her eyes shut. She’d hoped to avoid him at least for the day.
“Call me if you need me,” Sara whispered, squeezing her hand before crossing the hall into her apartment.
“Got a few minutes?” Logan asked.
“Hold this,” Hanna said, shoving her grocery bag into his hands and fishing out Milo’s keys. He’d left for the office about an hour before Sara’s fitting, mumbling something about an emergency before pushing a kiss into her forehead, the heat of it still lingering on her skin.
She cracked the door open, expecting Logan to follow.
“I don’t think Milo would want me in his home.”
She scrunched her nose. “Well, it’s my home for now, too. He’s not here anyway.”
Logan hesitated at the door, but ultimately decided to follow her in and set the bag on the counter. He watched the ingredients as she unloaded them.
“Are you making penne alla Lisa?”
Hanna shrugged. “I’m making dinner.”
Logan turned over a block of parmesan. “God, I haven’t had that in forever.”
“Same,” Hanna mumbled, organizing the produce. She searched Milo’s kitchen for a pot and a cutting board, but nothing was where she expected it to be.
“So, he’s getting the full Hanna experience this week then, huh?”
Hanna stopped, casting an irritated scowl at him. “What does that mean?”
Logan’s shoulders bounced as he reached for the back of his neck.
“You only ever cooked for me on birthdays and anniversaries.”
“That’s not true,” she protested. “Not for the first five years, anyway.”
“Let’s not add another thing to the list of shit we’re fighting about,” Logan grumbled, handing her a cheese grater from the drawer behind him.
“Fine by me.”
“I want to talk about her,” Logan said, his tone soft, but his words bricks.
Hanna held her breath, waiting for the wave of angry tears to crush her. It stung, but didn’t sear.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Okay?”
She nodded. “Okay. But I can’t look at you while I do it, so I’m going to keep cooking.”
Logan seemed to accept this. “Why didn’t you call me? You must have been out of your mind, Hanna.”
She concentrated on sliding her knife through crisp emerald herbs, the sound offsetting the sniffling building in her nose.
“Of course I was.”
“But you never thought to talk to me? I could have come home. I could have helped.”
She tossed him a sorrowful look, unable to hold his blue eyes.
“And Sloane would have been fine with that?”
“I wouldn’t have cared either way,” he said. “I didn’t even find out she was sick until after she was gone, Hanna.”
Hanna filled the pot with water and dumped an ocean’s worth of salt into it, twisting the knob on Milo’s stove to high.
“I know,” she sighed. “It was fucked up. And it’s one of my biggest regrets, okay?
I thought about calling a million times, but every time I pictured hearing Sloane in the background, I just couldn’t do it.
I was so hurt, Lo. And besides that, I was drowning in my mom’s treatment.
We had surgeries and radiation and chemo and ER trips and it took up two hundred percent of my brain capacity.
And then it was—” she swallowed, her throat constricting. “And then it was over.”
She grated the block of cheese, pushing the anxiety twisting at her nerves into the metal. Logan rested a hand over her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. She could not look at him. She knew he was crying. She always knew when he cried. “For all of it.”
“I’m sorry, too,” she managed. “For most of it.”
Logan laughed, sputtering beside her, the release enough to bring their heads above water.
“I worry about you, Hanna. I don’t know how you managed all of it.”
“Not well,” she admitted, adding a handful of red pepper flakes to her pan. “I’m trying to untangle my life now, but to quote Milo, I’m a fucking mess.”
Logan frowned. “He’s probably helpful with all of this, huh?”
She nodded.
“That’s good. Well, not good. I wish neither of you had to go through it. But it’s good you have someone to talk to.”
Logan fell silent for a moment while she worked on her sauce.
“Is that… all you’re doing with him?”
She froze, the tingle of anger flickering back to life. So close.
“Is that any of your business?”
“I guess that’s my answer,” Logan snorted.
Hanna rolled her eyes. She should never have let her guard down with him.
“Milo and I are just friends, not that I owe you an explanation.”
“Just… tread lightly, Hanna. Okay?”
She reached behind him, pulling salt and pepper mills from the back of the counter.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means what it means,” he said, gesturing broadly.
“Insightful,” she muttered. “Leave it to you to have an opinion on my friendships.”
“I’m just warning you. I’ve known Milo a really long time.” He ducked his eyes to hers, holding them for a beat too long.
She waved her spoon at him. “Your concern is noted, but unnecessary, okay?”
“Okay,” he relented.
“I’ll see you later?” It was the easiest way to dismiss him.
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Logan didn’t move right away, debating something. He leaned over, pulling her into a lightning-quick hug, so fast she hadn’t even processed it by the time he released her and dipped out of the kitchen.
The front door opened, but too many sets of footsteps shuffled around one another.
“Oh,” Milo said, surprised.
“Sorry,” Logan mumbled. The door slammed shut as Milo rounded the corner.
“Smells good,” he said, pointing to the stove. “Everything okay?”
Hanna turned to look at him, and she could see he was braced for one of her meltdowns, his muscles poised to grab her. But for once, she didn’t want to break into pieces.
“Everything’s fine,” she forced out, holding those green eyes with hers. She wanted to tackle him to the floor and fuck him into oblivion, but she didn’t want to feel him inside of her for the first time between boiling pots and timers. She wanted to savor it.
Milo seemed to read her mind. In a flash, she was up against the counter, the edge of it cutting into her lower back as he gripped her neck and hauled her mouth to his. His tongue danced over her lower lip, driving any remaining uncertainty planted by Logan away.
She sighed, relaxing under his touch as his hands kneaded her chest. Something popped and sizzled on the stove.
“Ah, shit,” she said, pushing him away, the pasta boiling over. He grabbed a towel and laughed to himself as he pushed the pot to the back eye of the stove, cleaning up what he could before she shooed him away. “Get out of the kitchen before I burn dinner.”
He grinned and tapped her hips as he squeezed by her again.
“I got stuff to set the table anyway. Let me know when you’re capable of being in my presence.”
It took her another twenty minutes to finish the meal, the sun slipping between their buildings as she plated her mother’s signature recipe.
Milo pulled a record from his shelf and dropped the needle over something smooth she didn’t recognize.
She darted out of the kitchen to Milo’s tiny dining table, set with another teal mason jar full of sunflowers and a hand-labeled amber bottle.
“Looks amazing,” Milo said, sliding into his chair with two rocks glasses. He popped the cork from the bottle and poured heavier than she would have. “I’m not sure if this is the ideal pairing, but I think you’ll forgive me.”
“I’m sure I can be convinced,” she said, settling across from him. He leaned forward, a gorgeous smile unfolding for her.
“I cannot remember the last time these dishes were used, so thank you for feeding me.”
“You’re saving me from shacking up with my ex for the week, I owe you.”
“I like it better when you thank me on your knees,” Milo said, curling the pasta around his fork. He closed his eyes as he took his first bite. “Actually, I’m not sure that I do. This is delicious.”
“Lisa specialty,” she said. She hadn’t made it since her mother died, and she didn’t think she ever would again, but if anyone would appreciate it the way it deserved, it was Milo.