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I roll my shoulders back and pull on my tie. It feels really tight right now. Tight and uncomfortable. And my palms start to sweat.
“Jake, man.”
I give him the side-eye. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”
He pokes at his bottom lip with his tongue. He does it when we play poker and gives away his shitty hands every single time.
“She’s a good-looking woman.”
“Stop.”
“I’m just saying I can see the allure.”
“There’s no allure.” There’s plenty of allure, which is exactly the problem.
“Right. Okay. Well, in that case, maybe the next time we’re in Tennessee, Ryan should invite her to a game and I can introduce her to Karl Halpern, the owner of their team. He got divorced a few years back. You remember that, right? She left him for some guy she met in Paris.” He shakes his head. “He’s a good guy. It’s probably time he gets back in the game.”
“I don’t think he’s her type.”
“Really? Why not, Jake?”
“Drop it, Alex.”
“That’s what I thought.” He grins and takes another sip of his scotch. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“It doesn’t matter because it’s over anyway. Our kids are married to each other. It’s too complicated.” It’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. “Don’t tell Violet.”
He scoffs. “I know better than to say anything to my wife. I love her, but she’s about as good at keeping secrets as a sieve is holding water.”
Five minutes later, I spot Hanna on her own, heading toward the bathrooms. I excuse myself and follow her, not needing to explain myself to Alex.
I manage to catch her on her way back out.
“Oh! Jake!” She nearly crashes into me. But to be fair, I was lurking in the shadows, which there are a lot of since the restaurant has low lighting.
“Hey. I’ve hardly had a chance to say hello tonight.” I steady her by putting a hand on her hip, but her eyes dart to the hallway and she steps back, severing the connection.
“I know.” She gives me a small smile and bites her bottom lip. Her eyes move over my face, but dart away before she can meet my gaze. “The girls have been keeping me busy.”
“Is everything okay?” It’s too dark in the hallway for me to see her face clearly, but based on her body language, things are definitely off.
She looks exhausted and nervous as hell. And her teeth keep finding her bottom lip, which is something she does when she’s worried. She did it a lot when we were discussing the guest list for the wedding—every time Queenie’s mom was brought up. And her own mother.
“Yes. No. Can we talk later? Maybe after the party?” She fiddles with her necklace, which happens to be the one I gave her at King and Queenie’s wedding.
I’m very accustomed to tackling issues head-on, rather than letting things fester. It doesn’t help either of us if I’m concocting scenarios in my head that may or may not have a legitimate basis. “Can we find a place to talk now? Even if it’s for a minute? I feel like you’ve been dodging me all night and I know things are different.” I motion between us. “But I think we need to figure out how to make this work. I still really value your friendship, Hanna. I don’t want to lose that.”
“In there?” She inclines her head toward the small room to the right, likely where intimate private dinners are held—when this place isn’t being rented out.
I follow her into the room and she tucks herself into the corner, out of sight from anyone passing by. I take a seat beside her.
She runs her hands down her thighs and exhales a long breath. And another one.
“Are you okay?”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” I don’t understand what’s making her so emotional.
She reaches into her clutch, pulling free a tissue. She dabs at the corner of her eyes, stopping the tears before they can fall. She pinches the bridge of her nose, like she’s trying to use it as a stop button. “All the freaking hormones are making me ridiculously emotional.”
Aside from the wedding, I’ve never seen Hanna cry. But this seems different. She’s practically vibrating with anxiety. “It’s okay. You know I’m not afraid of tears.” I go for light, because I honestly don’t know what else to do.
“I know.” She tips her chin up and dabs at her eyes again. “Thank you. I’m sorry.”
“What are you so sorry about?” This is the second time she’s apologized in the past two minutes.
She takes another deep breath, and when her gaze meets mine it’s so…forlorn? Torn? Sad? Worried? So many emotions pass over her face, and I don’t know what to do with any of them because I have no idea what’s going on.
She clasps her hands in her lap. “There’s no easy way to tell you this, so I’m just going to come out with it.”
