âAnyway...â The ghost of a smile played across her face. âI ran into Teddy at yoga class. I avoided him for years and two weeks agoâpoofâthere he is, ass firmer than ever.â
âOh no.â Hannah knew exactly where this was going. It was completely Kate. Teddy had smiled, flirted a little, and showed off his impressive flexibility. âYou slept with him.â
âHe goes by Theo now, right? All I think of when I say âTheoâ is that guy from the Divergent movies, and heâs just gorgeous. I mean, ten seconds into our escapade, and Iâm all hot and bothered. Heâs kissing me, and Iâm picturing hot Divergent guy whispering dirty nothings in my earââ
âI get the picture.â Hannah turned off the television. âSo whatâs the problem?â
Kate focused on her wine. âHe has a wife, Hannah.â
Hannahâs stomach roiled, the two slices of pizza sheâd eaten sitting heavy in her gut. Kate wouldnât do that to another womanânot on purpose.
âHow did youââ Hannah held up her hand. âActually, hold on.â With a last look at her friend, she went to the kitchen. Riesling wasnât going to cut it. This conversation required a strong red. After pouring two glasses of the bestâand onlyâred she had, she returned to the living room, reclaiming her spot at Kateâs side. âHow did you find out?â
Kate took a giant swig. âHe was only in town for a few weeks, which I knew. We were talking after his final class, and he just nonchalantly mentions that heâs excited to get back home to his wife, who is due in a few weeks. Of course, I started freaking out, but he just stared back at me calmly before explaining that his wife understood he had to âshare his love.ââ
âJesus. What exactly has he been smoking lately?â Hannah asked, putting her arm around Kate.
âYouâre the one from backwoods Jersey, so you tell me.â Kate smiled half-heartedly at her own joke.
Hannah took Kateâs hand. âWell, there is a story about some teenagers and the poppy fields behind the high school.â
Kate rested her head on Hannahâs shoulder. âSo yeah, Iâm a home-wrecker.â
Hannah stroked Kateâs curls, pulling her fingers through the ever-tangled strands. âI donât think you can be a home-wrecker if his wife is aware of his penchant for sleeping with other women.âÂ
âPregnant wife.â
Hannah sighed, tightening her grip on her best friend. There was no easy answer to this situationâa man supposedly allowed to cheat on his wife. Was it even still cheating? Maybe not to Teddy. The growing wet spot on Hannahâs shoulder proved it meant something to Kate.
HANNAH TURNED THE DEAD bolt. Kate only lived two blocks away, but Hannah always asked for a safe-arrival text. She glanced at her phone, though Kate was probably still in the lobby chatting up the doorman. Kate loved older gentlemen with character, and Ronny was a character. He knew all the residents and had taken a shine to Kate when sheâd stayed over for a few weeks between apartmentsâand boyfriends. Hannah plopped down on the couch, wishing she had cable and could channel surf. But cable had been one of the first things to go when her rent went up last year.
The apartment had been her home for the last four years. With a little help from her parents, sheâd been able to get a small, one-bedroom unit instead of a studioâa decision that she couldnât regret, even though it had cost her a dishwasher. She loved having a bedroom with a door instead of everything being in one open space. Not that paying the rent and keeping herself and Binx fed had always been easy. Journalists, especially ones working for small alternative music magazines, didnât exactly make enough money to support a New York City lifestyle. But Hannah had made it work, first by leaning on her parents too heavily and then by working too many hours at Starbucks. Now, she embraced the art of budgeting and forced herself to take an honest look at how she spent her money. It wasnât easy, but it was worth it.
Hannah picked up her untouched red wine. She swirled it around the glass, watching as it caught the rim and dripped down the sides. Wasnât there something about the quality of the wine and if it left marks?
âHappy birthday, Hannah,â she said, toasting the air. Thirty. Fuck. On the outside, her life looked, if not perfect, certainly close to itâdream job, Manhattan-adjacent, long-term boyfriend, her own place. But something had felt off for a while. She could pinpoint her ennui to her sisterâs wedding. Stephanie and Charlotte had met in London in a whirlwind romance. They had married within a year. Stephanie, who was all of twenty-six, had a house in the suburbs, a wife, stepkids, and a chocolate lab. Hannah had six hundred fifty square feet, her cat, and Brian, who couldnât even be bothered to call on her thirtieth birthday.
She took another sip, glancing at her phone again. Two notifications. She clicked on Kateâs message, which included a picture of Milo Ventimigliaâs butt. Happy birthday, chica.
The other text was from Brian. A booty call if ever there was one. She was used to it by nowâthe late-night texts from her boyfriendâbut they were seldom appreciated. Particularly because he always asked her to come to him.
Only if you come here, she typed before she could consider giving in again.
To her surprise, he answered right away. Be there in 10.
She glanced down at her penguin pajama pants. No one wanted a booty call in penguin pajamas.
Hannahâs phone buzzed again, this time with a friend request. She stared at the nameâWilliam Thorne. The last time sheâd seen him had to have been at Melissa and Tommyâs wedding. That had been five years ago. It seemed like another lifetime. But they shouldâve already been Facebook friends. Sheâd just seen a bunch of pictures of him from her twenty-first birthday in her Memories update. Had he started a new account or been hacked? Hannah clicked on his profile. They only had thirty mutual friends. Hannah opened her friends list and typed his name into the search bar. Will Thorne. Nothing. An inkling of a memory came back to herâgraduation night, too many beers, and Willâs lips on hers for the first and only time.
She jumped as her phone vibrated, shaking the thought of Will and that long-ago kiss from her mind. Brian was here.
Shit, shit, shit. Hannah scrambled to clear the mess, putting the wine glasses in the sink, the pizza box on top of the garbage, and the leftover crusts in the pail. She didnât need Binx presenting her with a dead mouse in the morning. Brianâs keys sounded outside the door as he fumbled with the dead bolt. He never remembered which key went where. Penguins could be sexy. Not that it mattered. He was probably wearing Star Wars boxers.
âHannah?â
She stepped into the living room, pulling her hair back in a messy bun. Brian leaned against the back of the couch. He was beautifulâtall but not lanky, athletic but not muscular. His light brown hair fell to his ears and hid the soft green of his eyes. It did her in every time she thought about ending things. She would miss those cheekbones, those bony hips, and the flutter she got every time he acted like the man she knew he could be instead of the boy he insisted on remaining. Heâd even forgone the graphic tee tonight, opting for a fitted polo. Small miracles.
He turned to her with a smile, holding out a boutique of red roses clearly from the bodega down the street. âHappy birthday.â
So much for pretending until morning.
Chapter 2Hannah
Binx at her side, a steaming cup of coffee, and Brianâs soft snores coupled with rain pattering against the building made for a perfect morning. Hannah had been sitting on the couch with her feet up for the last twenty minutes, bundled in her favorite hoodie that sheâd stolen from Brian. The temperature had dropped overnight, but the heat hadnât kicked on yet. She breathed in the aroma of her coffee. If only it was the weekend. Hannah loved rainy days with their built-in excuse to stay inside under the covers. The dulcet sounds of a rainstorm calmed her, eliciting memories of childhood movie nights. Her knee, however, did not appreciate the change in pressure. It hurt the most when it rained. Lately, it hurt all the time.
Formative years filled with basketball and volleyball hadnât done her knees any favors, and a full-on, butt-in-the-air slip on some ice right after college had only added to her problems. All that had been manageable, but then thereâd been the car accident last year. Hannah had been prescribed physical therapy, but the marketplace plan she had for catastrophes didnât cover such luxuries. At least, it didnât cover them enough to keep both her and Binx housed and fed. Her pain had ebbed and flowed over the last fifteen months.
Hannah had a sneaking suspicion she needed surgery. She stretched out her bad knee, pushing her leg as straight as it would go without pain. She noted the minor swelling with a sigh.Â
âYou really need to do something about that knee.â Brian stood in the doorway of her bedroom, wearing boxers covered in R2-D2s and C-3POs. He watched her with a concerned pout, as if that helped her any.
âItâs just the rain,â she said, bringing her knee back to a comfortable position. âCoffeeâs fresh.â
âItâs not just the rain. Youâve been favoring it for weeks.â
Months, actually. It had worsened since that half-marathon she had known better than to run, but she wasnât going to agree with him.
Brian wrapped his arms around himself. âItâs freezing in here.â
He disappeared into the bedroom, reemerging in the sole pair of pajama pants he kept at her place and the zip-up hoodie heâd arrived in last night. It had been a battle to get him to leave any clothes there because of Binx and his alleged cat allergy. However, after a few frigid nights without heat, heâd brought over a single outfit and pajamas.
âIâm sure it will warm up eventually.â
He zipped the hoodie all the way up. âYou really need to talk to your landlord. No one should live like this.â
This is New York City! she wanted to scream. She didnât have bedbugs. Her rent was a steal considering the fact that she had an elevator and a doorman. She could live with the inconsistent heating situation.
âIs my Claritin in the bathroom?â he asked when she didnât say anything.
The discontent that resided under Hannahâs ribcage stirred. She lived with it much like she lived with her knee painânever quite feeling comfortable. She told herself being with Brian was better than being alone, but right now, she felt that discontent spiraling into resentment.Â
âBabe.â
Hannah glanced toward the kitchen where his voice had come from. Maybe he had decided coffee was more prudent, considering she hadnât heard him sniffle once in the hours heâd been at her place. Her eyes passed over the roses she had arranged in a vase next to the television. Agitation swelled in her chest. She took a breath. The roses werenât the problem. She liked roses fine. But didnât her thirtieth birthday deserve more?Â