I did the only rational thing I could… I downed my entire drink, as if the answer to politely informing my new friends I was not a lesbian in front of the woman they were trying to set me up with was at the bottom of it.
Spoiler alert: It wasn’t.
“Lori, this is Hannah,” Fiona said when they stopped in front of us. “I’ve wanted the two of you to meet for the longest time, but you’ve been away doing…” She frowned.
“I’ve been getting my PhD in Archeology,” Lori shyly told Fiona and me.
“Yeah, she’s going to be allThe Mummyand shit.” Fiona looked between the two of us. “Oh god, you’re both too young to get that reference.”
“Um, Brendan Fraser?” Lori pursed her lips. “Not too young. That movie is a classic, even if it’s wildly inaccurate.”
Fiona cupped Lori’s cheek. “I knew there was a reason I didn’t hate you because of your seemingly eternal youth. Anyway, Lori’s back, and this is Hannah. She’s nannying for Beau before she finishes nursing school.”
“Nice to meet you,” Lori stated pleasantly. “Nursing? That’s amazing. I could never do it. I faint at the sight of blood.” She winced just thinking about it.
I laughed, sounding a little forced and maybe vaguely hysterical.
“I just thought the two of you?—”
“I’m not a lesbian!” At my bellowed declaration, I felt all eyes in the room move to me.
Well, the plan of being subtle and polite went out the window.
Now I was just the freak in the discount sweater who shouted about lesbians.
There was a horrifying beat of silence when I wanted to sink into the ground and die before Fiona threw her head back laughing, as did a couple of the others. It wasn’t cruel laughter, though. I was well-versed in what that sounded like. This was softer. Warmer.
“Honey, I’ve seen the way you look at the asshole who shall not be named.” Fiona winked conspiratorially. “I know you’re not a lesbian. And I knowshe’snot a lesbian.” She motioned to Lori. “Because she’s in love with our police chief.”
Lori’s cheeks colored, her eyes narrowing at Fiona. “I’m not in love with him,” she protested, almost as loudly as when I’d said I wasn’t a lesbian. It comforted me since she was only two sips into her champagne.
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Sure.”
“He’s not interested in me in the slightest,” Lori continued. Even though I’d just met the woman, I knew from her tone and the panic in her eyes that shedefinitelyhad feelings for the police chief.
“Right,” Fiona intoned. “We’re in an upside-down world, where, apparently, the girl getting her PhD is dense and blind.” She smirked at me knowingly. “You two will get along so well. A lot in common.” She waggled her brows in a way that was supposed to be meaningful.
Then she walked away. Leaving both Lori and me frowning at each other.
“What was that supposed to mean?” I asked her.
She shrugged, downing her drink. “I adore all of these women, but they are all loved up with men who shouldn’t strictly be real. They think there are an infinite number of decent menwalking around the world, waiting to sweep us off our feet.” She rolled her eyes. “They’ll create a love story about almost anyone. Case in point, Finn and me.Nothingis going on there.”
She said it in a way that told me there was a lot more going on than nothing.
“And with you and Beau.” She gestured with her drink. “Nothing going on there, right?”
I smiled at her. “Absolutely nothing at all.”
I tried to enter the house quietly, even though the light in the living room alerted me to Beau being awake. It was the only reason the light would be on. Because he wouldn’t leave the light on forme. That would require consideration, fondness for a person, and basic manners.
Beau didn’t have any of those things. Not when it came to me, at least.
Nonetheless, I tried to be quiet as I entered the house, but it didn’t work with the keys not fitting into the lock properly. It took me three tries to hear the satisfying click as it opened, my fingers almost numb as I turned the handle. I tripped over the doorstep and dropped the keys with a clatter.
“Whoopsie,” I muttered, swinging down to pick them up, pulling the door with me with a slam before falling onto my hands and knees.
“Ouch,” I yelped as the keys jammed into my palm. I looked around for something to grasp on to, to help pull me up since I didn’t entirely trust my balance. It should’ve been embarrassing or shameful, since I’d seen my mother in states not dissimilar to this throughout my childhood and swore I’d never become her. But such heavy thoughts were too big to latch on to in anyreal way. Instead, I focused on what was important—finding me something solid to pull myself up.
