“I’m sorry you had a hard night.” It was the sincerity that crushed her most. The unwavering devotion to forcing her into eye contact, into conversation, into feelings that had claws. “I’m sorry if I made it harder.”
She sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
He squeezed her hand, releasing it.
She battled the voice in her head that wished he hadn’t the entire way back to her bed.
TEN
“Say hi to Berto for me!” Hanna said as Sara flashed her phone toward her from across the living room.
“Hanna! No wonder she hasn’t accepted our casino night invites!”
“Happy Father’s Day, Berty!” Hanna called, realizing she hadn’t fired off her obligatory text to her own father. She sent it into the universe and frowned.
She wondered what Milo did on Father’s Day. Sara finished her conversation with her dad, and Hanna asked, “Do you need anything? I gotta run a few errands.”
“I don’t think so! We’re heading to brunch over at Tom and Marcia’s… I’m assuming you’d rather die than come?”
“Correct!” Hanna replied, though she did miss them.
“They miss you, too,” Sara said, reading her mind.
Hanna stared at her phone, and then the wall, and then an idea formed.
She pulled on her shoes and snagged her bag and sunglasses, heading toward the flower shop she’d never made it back to. Her hand hesitated on the handle, unsure if they’d be open on the holiday, but surely men got flowers on Father’s Day?
“Sunflower girl!” the shopkeeper chimed. Her hair was swept up into a messy knot, a pale blue linen apron wrapped around her this time. “You’re a few weeks too late,” she said, winking.
“I was hoping you’d be open today. I got distracted before.” Hanna strolled around the shop, two sets of shelves along the window lined with bottles of wine, chocolates, and San Francisco mementos. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she hoped it would jump at her.
“Not a super popular day for florists,” the woman said. “But those shelves will be cleared by the end of the night.”
“What do you recommend for someone who definitely won’t be seeing their dad today?”
The woman crossed her arms, ambling around her desk and scanning the shelves.
“Because they don’t want to, or because they desperately wish they could?” she asked.
“The latter.”
“Something strong,” she whispered. She ran her fingers over the dark bottles facing the street, a gold band set with a square emerald glinting on her left hand.
“Beautiful ring,” Hanna noted.
“Thank you. My husband thought diamonds were boring. Ah, here we go, sunflower for the sunflower girl.” She pulled a tall green bottle from the middle shelf, a golden sunflower painted on the side. The label was in another language.
“Is this wine?” Hanna asked.
“Of the gods,” the woman said. “Ouzo. Greek liquor.”
Hanna snorted. Every time she walked into that shop, the universe rewarded her.
“It’s perfect.”
“I’ll wrap it up. You need anything else while you’re here? Some sunshine?”
Hanna smiled. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got.” She’d need it today. She hadn’t talked to Milo since their little row a few nights prior, and the regret had firmly set in.
