Fine Fine Fine, page 5
“Only if you guys are sure I won’t be in the way! It will make wedding planning easier, and I could use the shake-up. I have a friend who just lost her roommate. She could probably use a few months to figure her shit out.”
And I’m not at all interested in hanging out in an apartment that occasionally has Adonis’s cooler, tatted-up brother in the living room, she thought.
“How soon can you be here?” Sara asked.
“I’ll look at flights tonight,” Hanna answered.
“I just have a question,” Olivia said, tapping her pen to her lips in her signature I’m about to fuck up your whole day way that Hanna had grown to fear in their sessions.
“Hit me,” she whispered.
“Why do you keep telling yourself that interacting with this Milo guy was nothing?”
“Because it was nothing.”
Olivia scoffed. “You’ve spent the last six months lamenting the fact that you feel absolutely detached from this world, but the first time someone walks in and makes you feel anything, you’re quick to dismiss it. I find that revealing.”
Hanna chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Okay, but—”
“I just wonder if you’re running from home, or running to someone.”
“I’m not running at all,” Hanna said quickly. “I’m temporarily relocating.”
“Hmm,” Olivia said, scribbling a sentence across her notepad. What Hanna would've paid to read through the pages upon pages of notes Olivia had taken since Hanna's mother had gotten sick. “You’re avoiding my question.”
“Can’t the answer be yes, and?”
“It can,” Olivia said. “But I worry how you’ll cope in a new city without your typical routines.”
Does it matter? Hanna thought. She’d never feel normal again, anyway. What did it matter which zipcode she was sad in?
“You do virtual sessions, right?”
Olivia gave her a half smile. That was the answer she was looking for. “Lucky for you, I’m also licensed in California.”
“I’m going to make you regret that.”
SIX
The plane had hardly taxied before Sara sent eight texts detailing how thrilled she was that Hanna had finally given in.
She'd planned a dinner for that night with her and Matty's closest friends and it took Hanna everything she had not to ask if Milo would be there.
Not that she cared.
Sara’s apartment was a twenty-five-minute Uber ride away, right in the heart of SoMa. As the car glided to a stop on Brannan Street, Sara was already firing off comms.
Hanna hauled her suitcases from the trunk and stared up at the lofts she’d toured via FaceTime two years ago. It only took a few breaths to rehydrate her sun-dried desert heart, the humidity almost instantly curling the ends of her hair.
“Hanna!” She looked to the second floor of balconies hanging over the street. “We’re coming down!”
Hanna didn’t have much time to consider that “we” might not mean her and Matty before Sara and Milo stepped off the elevator and out of the lobby. A nervous flare shot up her spine as Sara ran toward her, scooping her into an embrace.
“I cannot believe you’re actually here!”
“Me either!”
Sara released her and shoved her at Milo, who offered a tepid side hug that shut down absolutely any lingering what-ifs in her mind. At least it was quick and painless.
Milo grabbed one of her bags despite her protest and he was already calling the elevator by the time she processed his acquisition.
Sara prattled on about all the things she wanted to do that weekend once Hanna was settled in, but Hanna heard none of it. Standing beside Milo on an elevator in his home turf did something strange to her stomach.
She followed them off the elevator and down the hall where Sara stopped at unit three.
“And this is Milo’s place!”
Milo’s place? The hell?
“I didn’t realize y’all were neighbors?” Hanna said, glancing between them. Don’t be weird, don’t be weird, don’t be weird.
“We weren’t. I just moved in a month ago.”
As always, she had incredible timing.
“Did I not mention that?” Sara asked, her lips curling into a crooked smile.
“No,” Hanna said, crossing the hall. “You didn’t.”
Sara took a few steps across the hall to her and Matty's unit and bumped open the front door with her hip, calling back to Milo as it swung inward.
“See you in twenty!”
Their loft smelled like a version of home to Hanna—one where she was nineteen in the ASU dorms and studying for finals while Sara chattered on the phone with Matty who lived a state away.
There was a small kitchen to the right overflowing with plants sunbathing under the skylight above, but the real draw were the floor-to-ceiling windows that peered into a courtyard garden below. She remembered it from the tour—an instant seller.
“You’re upstairs,” she said. “Bathroom and bedroom are all yours!”
Hanna climbed the narrow iron staircase and slid open a large wooden door to reveal a small, but tasteful, guest room. Sara followed with Hanna's second suitcase in tow.
“I know it’s not a lot,” Sara said. “But by San Francisco standards, it’s a flippin’ mansion.”
“It’s perfect,” Hanna breathed, her lungs loosening more with every second she spent in Sara’s home. “I cannot tell you how happy I am to be here. I already feel… I don’t know. Lighter.”
Sara squeezed her arm and leaned against a small desk in the corner while Hanna rifled through her things. Sara pointed to a floral sundress at the top of the bag.
“That’s perfect for where we’re going tonight. But bring a jacket.”
“A jacket,” Hanna scoffed. “I’m here to enjoy the sub-triple digit weather.”
Sara rolled her eyes. “Trust me. And I know it took a lot for you to come out here. I’m really proud of you for getting out of the house. I think it’ll be so good for you!”
“We’ll see how you feel in two weeks,” Hanna laughed. She plucked a few more necessities out of her bag and arranged them across the desk. “So. Milo is your neighbor.”
“Yes.”
“You’re diabolical.”
Sara held up her hands. “I forgot!”
“You’re full of shit.”
“I didn’t want to scare you off,” Sara confessed. “But if you happen to get the dicking down of your life while you’re here, so be it!”
Hanna glared. “There will be no dicking down.”
“Hanna,” Sara said, sitting on the edge of the desk. “We both spent our entire twenties with the same dumb boys. Matty is well trained, but I need to know. Do it for me.”
“Pathetic,” Hanna grumbled.
“I have to call Cami back about place settings. Can you change and then grab Milo?”
“Pathetic,” Hanna repeated. Sara shrugged as she left.
“See you in the lobby!”
Hanna spent more time than she normally would have on her hair, telling herself it was the nerves of meeting new people. She brushed her teeth and pulled the sundress over her head, the strappy back way too cute to hide under a jacket.
When she’d decidedly run out of distractions, she crossed the hallway, hovering outside unit three.
This is stupid, she told herself, forcing her fist up to rap on the door three times. She was about to go for a fourth when the door cracked open.
“Hey! Sara had to call her mom real quick. She said she’d meet us in the lobby.”
Milo glanced at the door behind them.
“Perfect,” he mumbled, checking his phone. “That means we have time to pre-game. Camila can talk.”
“With or without a partner,” Hanna agreed, following him into the apartment. His unit was nearly identical to Matty and Sara’s in layout, but the smell was all new. There was no tidal wave of nostalgia, only a combination of whiskey and leather, mixed with a faint waft of weed coming through his patio door. Where Sara and Matty had photos of vacations and holidays, Milo had vinyl sleeves and movie posters. His apartment faced the street and Hanna figured it must have been where Sara was waiting for her.
He didn’t ask if she wanted anything. Instead, he poured a few ounces of something from an unlabeled bottle over ice and handed it to her.
She pulled the bottle off the counter and examined it, only a hand-scrawled date on some masking tape to be found.
“Am I about to drink something you made in a toilet?”
Milo laughed. “Too good for prison style?”
She rolled her eyes as he took a long sip, confirming it was at least tolerable. He pushed his flannel sleeves over his elbows, the fabric flexing as he set the glass down.
“My friends work at a distillery over in Oakland. They’re always making weird shit in specialty barrels. The flavor profiles are unique. This one was casked in an old rum barrel. Promise it hasn’t touched a toilet bowl.”
Hanna smelled it, the notes prickling against her nose. It hit like a typical whiskey, but there was something warmer in the depths of the scent. Spicier. Maybe the hint of an orange peel, or something citrusy. It was like inhaling a half-formed memory.
She took a sip.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Goddamn,” she said, exhaling. It was bright, warm—everything she loved about a good bourbon but with a surprising twist. It was smoother than it had any right to be with a certain darkness on the finish. “Jesus.”
“I’ll have to take you out there. They have this sour cherry mash cocktail, it’s incredible in the summer.”
He finished his glass and Hanna remembered that they did, actually, have somewhere to be, throwing hers back in another long pull.
“We should probably go,” Hanna said. Milo nodded and grabbed his wallet and keys from his counter as she opened the front door. His hand caught her elbow, pulling her back.
“Hey,” he said, the low volume drawing her in. “I, uh—” he stopped.
For a second, she expected him to bring up the elevator incident directly, and she braced herself against the doorframe. She couldn’t read a thing in his face, but after a few seconds, he picked the thread up again.
“I just wanted to say it’s good you’re out here. I haven’t seen Sara this excited since they got engaged.”
Hanna smiled. “Oh. Yeah. Good.”
It was barely a whisper. He was too close to her. She could lean forward just another two inches and—
“Cami’s probably done by now,” he said, releasing her elbow.
“Right.”
Hanna stepped out and waited while he locked up. She made sure to put as much distance between them as possible in the elevator to the lobby.
She was four dumplings away from a food coma.
Another swell of laughter careened over the table. Sara and Matty’s friends were unsurprisingly lovely, and she regretted how many weekends she’d wasted alone in her crumbling fixer-upper.
The mysterious Chloe didn’t appear until sometime between rounds three and four. Milo had long since given up on waiting for her outside, sliding into the seat beside Hanna and running his finger over the menu to point out all his favorites she should try.
Her eyes dropped to his phone as it buzzed against the table. An unsaved number flashed across the screen, but there was a string of messages between them.
“Chloe’s here,” he mumbled, mostly to himself, and rose from the table. She focused on her cocktail and a story Matty’s coworker spun about a board meeting they’d crashed, but she couldn’t hold onto the sounds as a bouncing red head landed at the table.
She was even cooler in person.
It made sense that the universe would shove two people like Milo and Chloe together. She had that effortlessly cool vibe that Hanna once wished she could pull off, but her body’s rejection of a nose piercing three times had sealed the deal for her. She was firmly on the tame side of that line.
The worst part about Chloe was that she was fucking hysterical. Everything she said dripped in charm and Hanna wanted to hate her, but it was simply impossible. She tried not to stare during dinner, but it was hard not to be drawn to two such beautiful people being beautiful together.
Chloe worked overtime to ask questions about Hanna’s life, her job, and her favorite places to visit in Phoenix. She, once again, resisted the urge to stare as they said their goodbyes—a chaste kiss so brief she nearly missed it. It wasn’t the hot and heavy exchange a new couple still insecure with one another might share—no. It was comfortable.
Sara led them down a few blocks to the pier, the wind whipping Hanna’s hair into her face. She tried not to walk with Milo, but he seemed to take an interest in pointing out all their favorite hangouts on the way home.
“Chloe seems really sweet,” Hanna said, wrapping her arms around herself.
“She is,” Milo replied. “It’s… casual,” he added.
Hanna tucked that information somewhere between her ribs, letting it percolate through her body and spread a warmth that almost cut through the bay breeze tickling the back of her neck.
“Ah. Explains why you haven’t saved her number,” she blurted.
Milo’s smile tilted. “She was texting me from her work phone. But noted that you’re watching.”
“No,” Hanna protested. “Not watching. Just… observing.”
“And that’s completely different.”
“Obviously,” she said, chewing on her lower lip as they waited on a corner. “It’s none of my business.”
“Hey,” he said, pulling her wrist toward him as Sara and Matty started across. “Are you freezing?”
“I’m f—”
“Fine, yeah, I know,” Milo said smugly, sliding his flannel off his shoulders and draping it around hers. She drowned in the scent of him, the same as his apartment, but closer now. “You got a lot going on up there, huh Arizona?” He tapped the space between her eyes and she pulled back. “I’ve been where you are. It’s a war zone. I just want it on the record that I’m not trying to add to that chaos.”
Hanna wasn’t sure what he was getting at, her head tilting as she thought as much. It must have read all too clearly in her eyes because he shook his head, his dark curls bouncing under the streetlight.
“If you need a friend, I’m a damn good one. If you need to flirt a little and push someone’s buttons, I’m not opposed. I’m a grade-A distraction if that’s what you want. But if you’re going to be here all summer, I just want to get it out there now, I’m not a relationship guy.”
Hanna’s mouth opened, but closed again. Whatever she’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that.
“And I don’t mean that in a toxic fuck-boy way. I mean it in an I-never-want-to-leave-a-wife-and-three-kids-without-a-father way. I just find that friends with benefits is a better situation for someone like me.” Milo rocked back on his heels, tracking Matty and Sara across the street. “But I like you. I think you’re cool. A little fucked up, but I heard what I just said, so I’m not going to pretend I’m not in the same boat. So. That’s where I’m at.”
Hanna took his words in, but didn’t process a single one of them. She’d never once had someone be so direct.
She pursed her lips. “You’re either in a lot of therapy, or none, aren’t you?”
“CBT, talk, and group,” Milo said, a grin spreading over his lips. “I will always tell you exactly what I need, but not everyone can handle that.”
“But Chloe can.”
“For now,” he said.
“I don’t know what to make of any of that,” Hanna admitted. “How many years until I can just communicate how I feel directly without every single feeling I’ve ever had rushing out in one long, verbal panic attack?”
Milo laughed, reaching forward and buttoning his shirt around her collarbones. His fingertips brushed her shoulder, the chill well and thoroughly gone from her muscles.
“How many therapists you got?” he asked.
“Just the one.”
“Add a second and maybe we can talk,” he murmured. He rested a hand on the small of her back, pushing her forward as the light shifted green.
“Milo?” she asked, watching Sara stare over her shoulder from half a block over.
“Arizona?”
“Friends with benefits—”
“You’re not ready for that,” Milo cut her off abruptly. “That’s triple therapist territory.”
Milo stuffed his hands in his pockets, bumping into her shoulder.
A strawberry-red blush crept over her neck. “Why do I feel like you’re either going to be my best friend or the worst thing that’s ever happened to me?”
He sucked a breath through his teeth.
“Only time will tell, huh?”
SEVEN
There is a scent to grief.
It’s sterile, like a spilled bottle of nail polish remover on the kitchen table while waiting for a call from the doctor, or a whiff of hand sanitizer between gloves and morphine doses.
It lingers. You go blind to it in your own home, but suddenly, out in the world, it finds you, and the inside of your nostrils flare. The headache sets in.
Hanna woke to the sharp clinical fragrance of grief before she even opened her eyes on the June morning she’d been dreading for exactly one year. It had crawled toward her, hour by hour, the slow sting of scores kept invading her lower back and inching up her spine. It whispered, Can you believe it? One whole year without her? Can you?
She could not.
It had been a month since she’d escaped the onset of a Phoenix summer. Between all of the morning walks and lunch breaks and movie nights with the group—Sara, Matty, and more often than not, Milo and Chloe—she'd managed to condense the dread into small doses.
But she could not avoid it entirely.
Below her room, Sara clinked around in the kitchen before work, making her breakfast smoothie. Matty had surely already made his way out the door to the office. Hanna figured she only had to lay there for another twenty minutes—child's play—to successfully avoid Sara as well.
