She raised an eyebrow when they got to the cheese aisle, but didn’t poke at her. Hanna was certain Sara bit her tongue the entire walk home.
“Hanna!” Logan leaned against Milo’s door, his arms folded over his favorite interview suit. Hanna squeezed her eyes shut. She’d hoped to avoid him at least for the day.
“Call me if you need me,” Sara whispered, squeezing her hand before crossing the hall into her apartment.
“Got a few minutes?” Logan asked.
“Hold this,” Hanna said, shoving her grocery bag into his hands and fishing out Milo’s keys. He’d left for the office about an hour before Sara’s fitting, mumbling something about an emergency before pushing a kiss into her forehead, the heat of it still lingering on her skin.
She cracked the door open, expecting Logan to follow.
“I don’t think Milo would want me in his home.”
She scrunched her nose. “Well, it’s my home for now, too. He’s not here anyway.”
Logan hesitated at the door, but ultimately decided to follow her in and set the bag on the counter. He watched the ingredients as she unloaded them.
“Are you making penne alla Lisa?”
Hanna shrugged. “I’m making dinner.”
Logan turned over a block of parmesan. “God, I haven’t had that in forever.”
“Same,” Hanna mumbled, organizing the produce. She searched Milo’s kitchen for a pot and a cutting board, but nothing was where she expected it to be.
“So, he’s getting the full Hanna experience this week then, huh?”
Hanna stopped, casting an irritated scowl at him. “What does that mean?”
Logan’s shoulders bounced as he reached for the back of his neck.
“You only ever cooked for me on birthdays and anniversaries.”
“That’s not true,” she protested. “Not for the first five years, anyway.”
“Let’s not add another thing to the list of shit we’re fighting about,” Logan grumbled, handing her a cheese grater from the drawer behind him.
“Fine by me.”
“I want to talk about her,” Logan said, his tone soft, but his words bricks.
Hanna held her breath, waiting for the wave of angry tears to crush her. It stung, but didn’t sear.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Okay?”
She nodded. “Okay. But I can’t look at you while I do it, so I’m going to keep cooking.”
Logan seemed to accept this. “Why didn’t you call me? You must have been out of your mind, Hanna.”
She concentrated on sliding her knife through crisp emerald herbs, the sound offsetting the sniffling building in her nose.
“Of course I was.”
“But you never thought to talk to me? I could have come home. I could have helped.”
She tossed him a sorrowful look, unable to hold his blue eyes.
