Wait. Thattoo?
“I didn’t know about it,” I said carefully. “You wanted me there?”
“I told Teresa to invite you.” Her voice dropped lower, that raspy quality that drunk people got late at night. “You’re the only person I’ve met at the bar that I actually like. Most guys just hit on me and expect free drinks, but they don’t actually get to know me. They don’t look at me like you do.” She paused. “But then those guys hang around and linger. You’re the only one I wanted to stay. You left anyway.”
My hand tightened around the phone. “I didn’t want to leave. I liked Saratoga, but my job—”
“Why couldn’t I have met you when I still lived there?” she murmured. “Everything would have been different.”
“I wasn’t here yet,” I said quietly. “I was in Saratoga until July, when—"
“Is it December third yet?” she interrupted. “Why isn’t time moving faster?”
“Twenty-two more days,” I said quietly, unlocking my building door. “I’ve been counting too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are you?”
“Walking home. Just left the office.”
A taxi honked down the street and she sighed. “God, I miss that sound. I misseverythingabout New York.” Her voice went dreamy, wistful. “I miss the bodega on Bowery and Broome that was open twenty-four hours—the one where the cat slept on the newspaper rack. I miss taking the Q train over the Manhattan Bridge at sunset when the whole city lights up like it’s on fire."
My breath caught, thinking of my mom's adoration of driving over the Golden Gate.Sure, it takes an hour to drive three miles after that, Connor. But the view over the Bay… isn't it worth it?
But Hannah just kept going. "I miss getting dollar slices at two a.m. and arguing about whether Scarr’s or Joe’s is better—it’s Joe’s, obviously. I miss my old dry cleaner on Lafayette who called me ‘Miss Hannah’ and always had my clothes ready early.” She laughed. “Everything changes there but somehow it stays the same, you know? The bodega guy retired and his son runs it now, and he knew my order too. That’s what I miss—being known.”
I stepped into my apartment, something twisting in my gut. I’d felt that way in Saratoga—known. But here in the city, I was anonymous again, just another suit. Maybe that’s what we both wanted from each other—the life the other one had left behind.
“I’m being stupid. Forget I called.”
“I won’t forget.”
“But I should let you go. You probably had plans.” A pause. “Were you with someone when I called?”
“Yeah.”
“With a woman?”
My pulse picked up. “Yeah.”
“Falling in love with snickerdoodle lady, huh? Lucky bitch.” She laughed, but it sounded hollow. Then: “Hey, why didn’t you come?”
There it was again. My hand stilled on my tie.
“I would have swallowed, Connor.”
“Jesus, Hannah.” I palmed myself through my pants, already half-hard just from her voice.
“Last month. In my bed—your bed, whatever.” That raspy edge crept back into her voice. “You were naked too. You made me come. But then you just jerked off when we could have…” She trailed off.
The image slammed into me: Hannah naked in my bed, her skin flushed, those brown eyes dark with want, her lips parted as she came apart under my hand.
“Didn’t you want to fuck me?” Her voice got smaller, uncertain in a way sober Hannah let on.
I had to brace myself against the doorframe. “I did. But I was already too turned on just from watching you, I couldn’t have stopped it if I tried. Trust me, I wanted it.”
