Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
“You look so great,” Sara whispered to her on the DeBrunes’ sun-soaked patio.
Hanna had missed the sprawling winery’s gorgeous views. Marcia flitted around, topping off while everyone settled into two long tables set up for the rehearsal dinner that evening. For lunch, though, it was just the parents and kids.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Milo was included, but Hanna tensed all the same when he popped out of the house and rolled his linen sleeves up over those fucking tattoos.
She wondered briefly where Chloe was, but pushed the thought aside to focus on Sara who handed her a glass of pale yellow wine and said something, but Hanna heard nothing as Milo sat down directly across from her at the table.
It wasn’t really his choice, she realized. Marcia had organized the table to keep all the kids on one end and the parents and grandparents on the other. She could see it, the pain lingering on his skin, like a cut she thought was finally healed, just to move too quickly and tear the scab open.
Hanna swallowed a gulp of her wine. “Okay so, what do you need from me tonight to help things go as smoothly as possible?”
Sara shrugged. “Honestly, Hanna, I think the staff has everything handled. I feel like we should be more stressed, but it’s all shaping up.”
She sipped her wine, her eyes landing on Matty. Hanna watched as he made a face and Sara’s lips parted again.
“Actually,” she continued, “I do need a huge favor.”
Hanna nodded. “Sure. Whatever it is, I can do it.”
Sara watched Matty while she spoke. “When I was unpacking, I realized that I completely forgot to bring my deodorant. Do you think you could run into town and pick some up at that Safeway?”
Hanna could already sense where she was going.
“You can just use mine if you need to?”
Sara frowned. “Is it an antiperspirant?”
“Yep,” Hanna said shortly. Milo did not deserve whatever scheme they’d cooked up.
“Is it... unscented?” Oh god, Sara. Come on.
“Is my deodorant unscented? That’s what you’re asking me right now?” Hanna stared daggers into her.
“Yeah, I need it to be unscented antiperspirant. It’s a thing. You know fragrance makes me break out and I can’t have a rash on my wedding day, Hanna!”
Hanna relented. “Okay, sure,” she turned to Logan. “Gimme your keys.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I actually have to pick up my aunt and uncle from the airport. Their rental fell through.”
A coordinated effort.
“Great, you can grab Sara’s unscented deodorant—“
“Antiperspirant,” Sara corrected.
Hanna clenched her teeth. “Unscented antiperspirant while you’re out.”
“Nope. I can’t.” Logan said.
Hanna hung her head forward. “Why not?”
Logan’s eyes shifted to Matty, who looked at Sara.
“Because,” Sara mumbled. “He’ll never get the right thing. He’s a stupid boy!”
“Yes!” Logan raised his glass to her. “I’m incompetent. You’ve said so yourself many times, Hanna.”
Hanna did her best not to let her irritation show.
“Logan, you make six figures a year doing math for a living, you can read a label,” she hissed.
“I can’t listen to this anymore,” Milo finally interjected. “I’ll take Hanna into town, because I’m sure I’m also too stupid to read a label on a product that definitely exists, and you all can stop the rest of your plotting because that’s not why we’re here this weekend. Deal?”
“Thank you, Milo,” Sara said, smiling and quickly adding, “And while you’re getting my unscented antiperspirant, can you also get me a toothbrush, because I actually did forget that?”
“Unreal,” Hanna whispered, eating her lunch in a silent protest, knowing that when it ended, she would have to actually face Milo.
She wanted to hold him, to let him break down the way she had so many times, but things were so blurry.
Milo nodded his head toward the house.
“Let’s just get this over with, Arizona.”
* * *
“Our friends are assholes,” Milo finally said about twenty minutes into their thirty-minute drive.
“They think they’re helping.”
“There’s nothing to help,” he sighed. “I told you earlier, we’re good.”
She crossed her arms, treading lightly. He kept one eye on the GPS and the other firmly on the road. He hadn’t looked at her since they’d left the DeBrunes’. She fell right back into his rental car all those months before, slurring her way through their first of many fights.
“They feel bad for how things went down,” she said.
“They shouldn’t, that was all on us.” Milo rounded the car into a little downtown street, pulling into the Safeway parking lot.
“Right.” She tried to be patient and remember that this was not the grounded, adult Milo she was running errands with.
This was fifteen-year-old Milo, sitting in a glass office while someone shattered his world, and she was staring.
“Hanna,” he sighed. “I really don’t want to hash shit out today, okay?”
He parked the car, shutting the door a little harder than necessary.
She followed him into the grocery store, trying to keep up with his long legs.
He didn't bother to see if she was with him as he made a beeline for the beauty section, searching the aisles for deodorant and stopping at the pinkest shelf.
“Which one?”
Goddamn, she’d never really seen him pissy before and resented that she was enjoying how much sharper his jawline looked when he was mad. Leaning toward the shelf, he flicked at the boxes and accidentally knocked one over. He let out a sigh.
Hanna grabbed the brand Sara had been using for a good ten years. Even if it was a ruse, it didn’t hurt to be prepared. She jumped one aisle over and grabbed a toothbrush as Milo disappeared into the liquor aisle. She was next in line when he showed up beside her with a bottle of whiskey.
Hanna made a mental note that when the wine betrayed her that weekend, he had a stash. She paid for the deodorant and toothbrush, he paid for the liquor, and they continued back to the car without a word.
She could wait for him.
He drove the opposite direction from the winery.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
Milo snorted. “Yes, I know where I’m going.”
“So then, you know that the DeBrunes’ house is that way?”
She leaned her head to the right, motioning with her thumb.
He muttered, “We’re not going back to the DeBrunes’.”
“Huh, well,” she sighed, trying to maintain a pleasant tone. “I didn’t have kidnapped-by-my-ex-boyfriend on the itinerary today, but I guess I’ve got some time to kill before the rehearsal dinner.”
The air between them tightened. She’d fucked up. Any other day and he might have laughed it off.
Milo bit, “Oh. So now I’m your ex-boyfriend? And not just your ex-guy-you’re-fucking?”
He turned down an old street that was peppered with mid-century facades, all-brick columns, and ornate hanging plants swaying in the early fall breeze. It was all so charming and, if she wasn't being dragged through it against her will, she'd have stopped to enjoy it.
Milo swung the car into a parking lot facing the town square crowned with a lush green park and a perfect little gazebo with blossoming rose bushes.
Milo opened her door. “Are you coming?”
She looked at him, unsure if he still wanted her to tag along.
“Coming where?”
“Just, please? Okay?” Milo huffed. He held out a hand, helping her out of the car, and pointed across the street, exasperated.
Hanna followed his hand, her chest tightening.
Even the chairs at The Sunflower Café were bright yellow. The patio bustled with late afternoon snackers, a soft and mellow playlist strumming from the open doors.
She’d been to Sonoma with Logan a dozen times, but they’d never wandered this way.
“Milo—”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Any of it. I don’t need to hear about how much better you’re doing, or how you found yourself or whatever the fuck, or how you and Logan are happy now—”
Hanna laughed, unable to stop herself.
“What are you talking about?”
Milo glared. “Logan and you are back together, aren’t you?”
Hanna scoffed. “On what planet?”
“On the one where he drove you to my fucking bar last night, and had his hands all over you, and you left with him? You had all his shit this morning.”
“Logan and I are just friends.”
Milo arched a brow. “When we were just friends, we were f—”
“There’s that directness I missed so much!” She bit her lip, glaring at him.
Milo sighed. “So, you’re not together?”
“Nope.”
She gathered all the patience in the world she wished people would have had for her.
He slipped his hand over hers and dragged her across the parking lot.
She trotted to keep up with him as he pulled her into the restaurant.
They sat on the patio, all sorts of plants blooming around them as plates clinked and the server poured two glasses of water.
Milo stared at the menu, unwilling to look at her.
Hanna gave the waiter her best smile.
“Two coffees, black, and a piece of whatever cake you got.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope,” she said, snatching the menu from Milo’s side of the table and handing it over. She’d decided to let him stew for as long as he needed. He adjusted his sunglasses, glancing around the patio in a silence she wouldn’t break for him.
When their coffees came, he stared at the cup, lost in his own world. She’d been there so many times, and he’d never once rushed or judged her. When the slice of cake came, she pushed it toward him.
“I’m good,” he said.
“Okay,” she returned, taking a small bite. It was the perfect level of sweetness—such a harsh contradiction to his attitude.
“Sorry, I want to let you brood for as long as you need to, but you really should try that.”
Milo sighed, picking up the second fork. He took the world’s smallest bite of cake and set it back down.
“You can quit looking at me like that,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“Banned word,” she whispered.
His eyes slipped from the plate to her. They held it all right there—the agony, the loneliness.
“Have any of your ten thousand therapists ever told you that it’s okay to not be perfectly okay all the time?”
Milo leaned back like she’d slapped him.
“Okay, you’ve been in your healing era for, like, five minutes, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said.
Hanna covered her smile, afraid to scare him back into silence, but thrilled to be teased by him again. He snagged the fork, diving in for another bite.
“It’s birthday cake,” Hanna said softly, pointing at the plate. Milo stopped midbite, his eyes closing as he nodded. He inhaled slowly and let the breath back out.
“Who ratted?”
“Your attitude,” she said.
He tilted his head.
“And Matty.”
Milo finished his bite and set the fork down again.
"How old would Elias have been?" she asked.
“Sixty-four,” he said, no hesitation. No need for math. That kind of math did itself, constantly whispering in the back of their minds, marked by missed milestones and new lines carved in faces.
“How do you usually spend today?”
“Pissed,” Milo laughed.
Hanna pointed her fork at him. “Okay, checked that one off the list.”
“Alone,” he added.
She sipped her coffee, the heat of it soothing the wave of emotion in her throat.
“Not this year.”
“No.” A half smile cracked over his lips.
“Can I tell you something?”
Milo nodded as she set her coffee down.
“Seeing you all shitty like this… gives me a lot of hope.”
Milo scoffed. “Hope?”
“Yeah,” she said, snagging another bite of cake. “You’re still allowed to be sad fifteen years in, but you’ll wake up tomorrow and you won’t want to stay in bed for two months. There’s something encouraging about knowing I can still feel it all without wanting to die after, or whatever.”
“Or whatever.” He grinned.
“Smile still hits,” she said, not meaning to say it out loud.
Milo shook his head. “Goddammit, Arizona. I was really trying to have a shit day.”
“I know,” she whispered. “You still can. I won’t say another word.”
Milo chewed on his lip. The way his eyes closed reminded her of tucking into him on the plane home, his voice breaking as he’d apologized over and over again.
These were the days he’d been worried about. The days he needed someone who understood. The days he needed to know he was worthy of every ounce of patience he’d shown her.
Someone worthy of the love she thought she might never find a new home for, rotting in her chest.
“We should probably get back,” she said.
He only nodded, following her to the car. He walked slowly, like he was dragging something behind him. When he reached for her door handle, she intercepted his arm and pulled him into her, holding a hand on either side of his face.
“This doesn’t scare me,” she said.
“Hanna—”
“It used to. It used to make me think I’d never breathe again if the mighty infallible Milo still had bad moments, but you’ll be fine. We both will.”
“I don’t wanna be fine,” he whispered, his teeth biting down on the next sentence against her hands.
“What do you want to be?”
She stared into those green eyes, convinced she could hear the internal screaming bouncing off his skull.
“I don’t know—”
“Yes, you do. You know exactly what you want, you just don’t think you deserve it.”
Milo rolled his eyes, his arm dropping from the door and wrapping around her back.
“You deserve everything, Milo. You deserve to feel loved even when you’re still falling apart. You deserve to be held together by someone even more fucked up than you.”
He laughed against the side of her neck, burying his face, but she could feel his tears on her skin.
“How many therapists does it take to get both our heads out of our asses?”
“Five by my count,” she sighed.
Milo leaned away from her touch. “Four and a shaman.”
That’s when Hanna rolled her eyes.
“I think I still need to be an asshole for a few more hours,” he said, sniffling and untangling from her, though she knew he had no interest in letting go. “After the rehearsal dinner, we can have it out. I promise.”
“I can handle that,” she said.
She slid into the car, trying to hide the smile breaking over her face. She let him drive back in the aching silence he craved, but when they got back to the house, he squeezed her hand before disappearing.
The pressure of his fingertips in her palm was a promise they could solve every last one of the problems she’d brought back to California.