In four days, she’d be back across the hall, and this would all be fodder for her vibrator.
But it was there, lingering in their chests. Something far worse than grief.
Hope.
The bar was quiet, only Frankie and a delivery guy hanging at the edge of the cherry-stained oak. She took a moment to really examine all the photos on the walls. There were shots of family trips to Disneyland, the beach, fishing somewhere. He looked so much like his dad, the same dark curls and knotted bridge in his nose.
The same green eyes.
“Oh god,” Milo laughed. “All the cheesy photos.” He hovered behind her, pointing to one of him and Frankie, she assumed, in their early teens, soaked and laughing at whoever was behind the camera. “My dad pushed us both into the lake because we couldn’t stop arguing over something. I can’t even remember anymore, but it stopped the fight.”
“You wouldn’t share the Gameboy,” Frankie rumbled from behind the bar.
“It wasn’t the Gameboy, it was my Gameboy. I got it with the money I saved cleaning the bar all summer.”
“So you do remember,” Hanna said, arching a brow.
“I’m Frankie, by the way,” Milo’s brother said, waving and resting a hand on his hip. Aside from the patches of silver beginning to form at his temples, he could have easily been mistaken for Milo in the dim lighting.
“Hanna,” she said, returning the wave.
“The girl from Phoenix,” Frankie said, nodding. Milo stilled behind her as she turned.
“I’m a girl from Phoenix. Not sure about the.” Milo's fingers brushed against her hip and her cheeks warmed.
“There’s a distillery down in Tempe that we like,” Frankie went on. “I try to make it out there every few years.”
“On University, yeah?”
“She knows her stuff,” Frankie said to Milo, who might have been, for the first time since she'd met him, flustered.
She didn’t get a chance to tease him before the Oakland distiller uncapped several bottles, walking them through the tasting notes as they tried four seasonal blends. She loved the sour cherry infusion, the tart pinch of her taste buds a perfect distraction from the way Milo licked his lips after a sip. Without even asking, he popped a bottle from the case into her purse.
When the distiller left, Frankie followed, reminding Milo to lock up before they went home. The door was barely shut before she twisted on her heels.
“Your brother knows about me?”
“Don’t let it go to your head. He saw you here, remember?” Milo ducked behind the bar, fussing with the register.
“The girl from Phoenix,” she hummed.
“You know what? I have nothing to hide,” Milo declared. “I have mentioned you a few times at family dinners, okay?”
She leaned over the bar, just inches from him. “Do they hate me for stealing you on Father’s Day?”
“No, of course not.”
She inhaled. “I don’t want whatever we’re doing to come between you and your family time.”
Milo stopped his work on the register and looked her dead in the eyes.
“Yeah, well, if they knew how good your head game was, they’d understand.”
Hanna rolled her eyes, leaning forward over the bar. She dropped her voice, softening her tone.
“Are you feeling better today?”
“I’m feeling better after seeing you bent over in that dress,” he muttered, his eyes quickly flashing to the neckline draped lower than she realized. She straightened her back, irritated. Milo stopped whatever he was doing with the register and sighed. “I’m sorry, Hanna.”
