Hannah put her phone down and looked back at the flowers. If Kate hadn’t sent them, who had?
THE FAMILIAR CREDIT music of Kate’s podcast, Bitching about Boyfriends, wound down. Hannah pulled out her earbuds and wrapped them around her phone. Leaning back against her living room couch, she went through the script again in her mind, processing it. Across from her, the television was paused on the end credits of the last episode of the sappy drama she was currently binging with Kate. The preview for the next episode taunted her with the promise of tears.
Kate had disappeared into the kitchen with an expensive bottle of wine a few minutes earlier. Hannah could hear her digging through drawers for a corkscrew. There would be no twist-off tops tonight. Thirtieth birthdays warranted high-class wine, a precedent Kate had set when she turned thirty at the beginning of the year. The kitchen went quiet, and a moment later, Kate returned with two overfilled glasses of Riesling.
She handed one to Hannah. “So, these flowers...”
Hannah worried at her cuticles. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the flowers since they’d arrived at her desk. Who’d sent them? Her parents didn’t do that type of thing, and in the eighteen months—on and off—she’d been with Brian, he’d only ever gifted her roses. She didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. And it wasn’t as if she kept carnations around her apartment, from which he could have gleaned her preference. Fresh flowers weren’t exactly part of her weekly budget. “Have you ever mentioned to Brian that white carnations are my favorite?”
“Brian and I don’t exactly talk when you’re not around,” Kate said between sips of wine.
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Can you blame him? You talked about his penis size on your podcast and didn’t even try to hide his identity.”
“It’s not like his parents listen to my podcast.”
Hannah shook her head—Kate logic. “Still. Maybe they could be from him?”
“Brian doesn’t have enough romantic sensibility to send you flowers at your job on your birthday.”
“But—”
“And if he somehow came up with the idea to send you flowers, he would abso-fucking-lutely send a card, because he would want credit for coming up with such a fabulous idea.”
“Kate—”
“Not to mention you have never told him that you love white carnations. And I certainly didn’t tell him, and he in no way asked for my help on the matter. So no, I don’t believe the flowers came from Brian, and you don’t either.”
Disappointment coursed through her. Hannah didn’t know if it was because the flowers weren’t from him or because she knew they would never be from him. “I know, okay?”
Of course she knew. She’d known for months. That didn’t mean she didn’t love him or that deciding to end her relationship was easy or simple.
“Can’t I just pretend until I see him tomorrow?” she asked and took a sip of her wine.
Kate shrugged, her standard reaction to all things Brian. “What’s one more night when you’ve been pretending for over a year?”
Hannah flinched. After a decade of friendship, she was used to Kate’s bluntness, but Kate usually softened the blow. It was a trait Hannah sometimes loved and sometimes loathed about her best friend. Kate never meant to be cruel; it was just her way. She was a mirror, always reflecting the truths that Hannah wouldn’t voice.
“Sorry,” Kate said, putting her hand over Hannah’s. “That was too much, and I didn’t even mean it. God, and on your birthday. I promised myself I would lay off Brian for the day. It was part of my gift to you.”
Hannah forced a smiled and squeezed Kate’s hand. “Then I guess you owe me another gift.”
“I guess I do.” Kate sighed. “Brian’s not even the reason I’m pissed... for once. Remember Teddy?”
Hannah wished she didn’t. Teddy was the yoga instructor Kate had dated for three months back when Kate and Hannah lived together. It had been years, but the memory of walking in on Kate and Teddy attempting some insane, next-level Kama Sutra pose wasn’t something she would soon forget. Hannah stared at her incredulously for a few seconds.
Kate, being Kate, stared right back, waiting for a response.
“Yes,” Hannah said, laughing. “I remember Teddy, particularly his backside.”
“At least it was a well-toned backside,” Kate said with a shrug. “Not like the memories of flabby backsides you cursed me with.”
“You’ve never walked in on me having sex.”
“I just didn’t squeal like a little girl and slam the door when I did. It’s called tact.”
Hannah bit back a loud laugh, but the tiniest of giggles still escaped. “Yes, because tact is your specialty.”
“Anyway...” The ghost of a smile played across her face. “I ran into Teddy at yoga class. I avoided him for years and two weeks ago—poof—there he is, ass firmer than ever.”
“Oh no.” Hannah knew exactly where this was going. It was completely Kate. Teddy had smiled, flirted a little, and showed off his impressive flexibility. “You slept with him.”
“He goes by Theo now, right? All I think of when I say ‘Theo’ is that guy from the Divergent movies, and he’s just gorgeous. I mean, ten seconds into our escapade, and I’m all hot and bothered. He’s kissing me, and I’m picturing hot Divergent guy whispering dirty nothings in my ear—”
“I get the picture.” Hannah turned off the television. “So what’s the problem?”
Kate focused on her wine. “He has a wife, Hannah.”
Hannah’s stomach roiled, the two slices of pizza she’d eaten sitting heavy in her gut. Kate wouldn’t do that to another woman—not on purpose.
“How did you—” Hannah held up her hand. “Actually, hold on.” With a last look at her friend, she went to the kitchen. Riesling wasn’t going to cut it. This conversation required a strong red. After pouring two glasses of the best—and only—red she had, she returned to the living room, reclaiming her spot at Kate’s side. “How did you find out?”
Kate took a giant swig. “He was only in town for a few weeks, which I knew. We were talking after his final class, and he just nonchalantly mentions that he’s 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 ‘share his love.’”
“Jesus. What exactly has he been smoking lately?” Hannah asked, putting her arm around Kate.
“You’re the one from backwoods Jersey, so you tell me.” Kate smiled half-heartedly at her own joke.
