Chapter 20
TWENTY
ALWAYS ANSWER
Blue or green?
HANNA
Context?
ALWAYS ANSWER
Getting dressed. Which suit?
HANNA
Green.
ALWAYS ANSWER
K.
HANNA
Black or purple?
ALWAYS ANSWER
Dress?
HANNA
Thong.
ALWAYS ANSWER
Neither.
Hanna rolled her eyes and tossed her phone onto the hotel bed, a flurry of noise pouring out from the bathroom.
“Half or full lash?” Sara poked her head into the room.
Not nearly as sexy of a game.
“Full. If we’re going to do the damn thing, we might as well go full glam,” she said.
“How’s your not-boyfriend?”
Hanna sighed. “Which one?”
“Oh god, Hanna. What did Logan do?”
“Nothing,” she huffed, folding into herself on the edge of the bed. “He’s lonely and miserable. He just wants something familiar.”
"I hope he gets his shit together. Matty won't want to have to play babysitter."
“Correct,” she agreed. “I am determined to keep the peace tonight, I promise.”
Sara fanned a strip of lashes in front of her face. “Just don’t wear something low enough to show off the new ink. Imagine explaining that to Logan. As soon as these are on, we can head downstairs.”
Hanna pulled on a pair of much less aggressive heels than ones from the night before and re-read her last few messages from Milo.
Fuck it, she thought, and slipped her underwear off, leaving them behind in her suitcase.
The moment she spotted Milo across the casino, leaning against a slot machine as Matty tried his luck, she regretted her decision to go commando. He was dressed in an olive-green suit, his shirt unbuttoned low enough to see his tattoos.
He didn’t go out of his way to greet her when their groups merged, but he did slide into the seat across from her at dinner, flashing a smile they both knew meant something sinister.
His smile faded the moment Logan plopped down next to her. When the server arrived, Logan ordered first.
“I’ll do a gin and tonic. Hanna, you want a mule?”
Hanna started to respond, but Milo interjected. “They’ve got a really nice scotch selection if you want me to recommend something.”
She could hear Taylor and Marciela both squealing internally, glad that Sara was at the other end of the table.
Logan looked her over. “That’s right. You’re a scotch girl, now.” His face was unreadable as she dug deep to smile politely.
“Finer things,” Milo said flatly.
Playing Peacekeeper was not going to be as simple as she’d thought.
“Actually,” she said to the server, who clearly wanted no part in whatever they had flowing between them. “What do you think of Pinhook’s high proof?”
Relief washed over the server’s face when he realized he didn’t have to mediate a weird, contextless argument.
“If you like something a little different with a bit of a burned-caramel finish, you’ll be into it.”
She flashed a grateful smile. “Rocks, please.”
The server moved on and Logan found something to talk about with Brendon a few seats away. She could see in the way he held his shoulders that he was irritated.
From across the table, Milo returned his attention to her.
“Have you seen what Pinhook is doing with their vertical series?”
“I tried their first five releases. It’s a cool concept.
Haven’t had this year’s.” She turned to Taylor, who looked at them like they were speaking French, and explained, “They’re releasing small batch bottles of the same bourbon every year from four to twelve years-old, so you get to experience the entire aging journey. ”
Taylor clapped her hands together. “Love that for you two.”
It was the most she could offer, and Hanna just appreciated that someone else was there to witness the very odd situation she’d found herself in.
Milo continued talking to Taylor about the nuanced flavor profiles that developed each year in the maturation process and she tried very hard to keep up, but Hanna knew that Taylor hadn’t been sober since ten that morning, so it was a Herculean effort she was putting forth just to maintain eye contact.
Hanna’s phone buzzed in her purse.
SARA
Okay, hate that I’m sitting at the end of the table because it looks like shit is getting interesting down there.
HANNA
I think I’m in the middle of a weird pissing match between Logan and Milo.
SARA
Wait, are you officially in a love triangle?
HANNA
No.
SARA
I think you are.
HANNA
That would require either of these idiots to be in love with me, which they are not. But I think we’re in a territory dispute triangle.
SARA
For the record, I’m Team Hanna.
HANNA
I think you’re the only one.
SARA
I expect updates. Tonight will be veeeerrrryyyy interesting.
She set her phone down and Logan turned to her.
“Work stuff?“
She loved it when people lied for her. “Yeah, nothing major. Done now.”
He rested his elbows on the table, staring her down.
“So, you moved to a new house and you’re a bourbon aficionado now. What else have I missed out on?”
She didn’t expect the question to knock the wind out of her, but it did. Logan was, once again, woefully out of touch with the reality she’d been functioning in for an entire year. It hurt to realize just how much they'd grown apart, and how little he understood.
She swallowed hard, trying to calm the anger welling up inside of her. What else has he missed out on?
Oh, just months of being too depressed to put on anything other than the same two pairs of yoga pants and old shirts of his.
A few mental health crises. One particularly bad weekend, where she considered checking herself into one of those fancy facilities that out-of-control celebrities go to just to have someone else who would take care of her for a while.
She considered telling him he’d missed thousands of dollars worth of paying someone to listen to her cry about him.
He’d missed memorials, insurance arguments, and estate sales.
Paperwork. He’d missed a fuck-ton of paperwork.
His face fell right about the time she finished tallying up just how many of her therapy sessions were dedicated solely to his bullshit.
“I’m sorry, Hanna. That’s a loaded question, I realize that.” Logan had always been somewhat self-aware, but was never great at apologizing. She welcomed the change.
“Thanks,” she forced out, pushing more air into her lungs, so as not to suffocate.
She was grateful when the server arrived with a tray full of drinks. Logan raised his gin and tonic over the table.
“To Mr. and Mrs. Debrune!” He clinked his glass against hers, and she took a sip, her eyes falling across the table to catch Milo's as he drained his scotch in one go. That's when she saw it.
It was there, swirling in the pained greens of his eyes, written in the crease of his forehead, as he realized it too.
They were never going to be just friends, and there was no amount of therapy that could save him.
That could save either one of them.
* * *
After dinner, they watched Sara play roulette and win four hands back-to-back.
Hanna was a terrible gambler, but she loved to watch. Sara dominated the table in her white minidress and silver cowgirl hat with a bachelorette sash that earned her frequent free drinks, well on her way to another blackout.
Hanna waited at the edge of the table for the boys to reconvene after they'd scattered for some post-dinner gambling.
She wasn't as drunk as she wanted to be, which became more of a problem with every glance Milo shot at her.
His stare rippled through her nervous system in ways Logan could never touch.
She decided to find another bar with Taylor, their arms linked in the way drunk girls were legally required to do when in Las Vegas, no matter how far away they were from twenty-one.
They walked through a smoky hallway, the lights and chimes of slot machines blaring, their heels clicking against the scuff-marked linoleum.
She could see a bar just a few feet from them when suddenly she was no longer linked to her friend, but spinning off the ground, two very strong arms squeezing her tightly under her ribs.
“Haaaannnnaaaa!”
She pushed away from her assailant’s chest and immediately flushed with embarrassment.
The only thing standing between her ass and the rest of the world was a very thin layer of black silk, and Logan’s stupid arms shifted her skirt.
“Logan,” she said, thoroughly annoyed. “Put me down!”
“Aww, you’re no fun.” He set her down and she yanked at her skirt hem, half her ass out, the top not faring much better.
They’d only been separated for an hour since dinner, but it was clear he’d put in work at the bars.
She reset her face. “Where’s everyone else?”
“They’re, uh, they were right behind me…”
Great.
She scanned the casino and saw a few familiar faces at various tables, spotting Matty and Milo at the bar. She reached for Taylor’s hand and took off again, this time with Logan in tow.
Hanna would have preferred to be as far away from him as possible to avoid another poke at her insecurities about their relationship, but she had to admit, there was something tempting about him crawling back to her.
Even if she'd never take him up on it, the more she drank, the more she liked the idea of making him squirm.
Matty threw his hands in the air and yelled a non-verbal greeting as they approached. She leaned over the bar and ordered a whiskey sour and a vodka cranberry, plopping the pink drink in Taylor’s hands.
“How are you holding up?” Hanna asked Milo, who’d clearly become the group babysitter. He held a plastic cup of beer in one hand, nursing it while he watched Matty scream again as he hit on black at a roulette table.
“Fine,” he sighed. “These motherfuckers are going to get themselves killed tonight. I guess last night wasn’t exciting enough.”
“Vegas, baby,” she replied sarcastically.
Milo pointed over her shoulder at the sight of Logan falling over himself talking to Maricela who could not have been less interested.
“I see you’re already well aware what state your boy is in.” Logan fell over himself talking to Maricela, who could not have been less interested.
“He’s not my boy.”