Hanna scoffed. “On what planet?”
“On the one where he drove you to my fucking bar last night, and had his hands all over you, and you left with him? You had all his shit this morning.”
“Logan and I are just friends.”
Milo arched a brow. “When we were just friends, we were f?—”
“There’s that directness I missed so much!” She bit her lip, glaring at him.
Milo sighed. “So, you’re not together?”
“Nope.”
She gathered all the patience in the world she wished people would have had for her.
He slipped his hand over hers and dragged her across the parking lot. She trotted to keep up with him as he pulled her into the restaurant. They sat on the patio, all sorts of plants blooming around them as plates clinked and the server poured two glasses of water. Milo stared at the menu, unwilling to look at her.
Hanna gave the waiter her best smile.
“Two coffees, black, and a piece of whatever cake you got.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope,” she said, snatching the menu from Milo’s side of the table and handing it over. She’d decided to let him stew for as long as he needed. He adjusted his sunglasses, glancing around the patio in a silence she wouldn’t break for him.
When their coffees came, he stared at the cup, lost in his own world. She’d been there so many times, and he’d never once rushed or judged her. When the slice of cake came, she pushed it toward him.
“I’m good,” he said.
“Okay,” she returned, taking a small bite. It was the perfect level of sweetness—such a harsh contradiction to his attitude.
“Sorry, I want to let you brood for as long as you need to, but you really should try that.”
Milo sighed, picking up the second fork. He took the world’s smallest bite of cake and set it back down.
“You can quit looking at me like that,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“Banned word,” she whispered.
His eyes slipped from the plate to her. They held it all right there—the agony, the loneliness.
“Have any of your ten thousand therapists ever told you that it’s okay to not be perfectly okay all the time?”
Milo leaned back like she’d slapped him.
“Okay, you’ve been in your healing era for, like, five minutes, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said.
Hanna covered her smile, afraid to scare him back into silence, but thrilled to be teased by him again. He snagged the fork, diving in for another bite.
“It’s birthday cake,” Hanna said softly, pointing at the plate. Milo stopped midbite, his eyes closing as he nodded. He inhaled slowly and let the breath back out.
“Who ratted?”
“Your attitude,” she said.
He tilted his head.
“And Matty.”
