Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
18
HENN
“Oof. You’re right. It’s chilly con carne out here,” Hannah mumbles as we step out of the karaoke bar and into the cold Seattle night. She pulls her coat tightly around her. “Thank you for reminding me to grab my coat. Brr.”
“I’ve got you, babe.” I wink, feeling oh-so clever to have referenced a karaoke duet, but Hannah doesn’t smile or wink back at me. She certainly doesn’t burst into singing the song, either, which I’m half expecting her to do. All of which suggests this conversation is probably going to be a rough one for me.
Fuck.
When Sarah congratulated Kat and me on becoming millionaires this past week, I was excited and relieved. In that moment, I felt certain Kat must have blabbed the basics of our Ocean’s Eleven shenanigans to Hannah, and Sarah knew it, which therefore made Sarah feel comfortable talking about the finder’s fee payments in Hannah’s presence. How else to explain Sarah’s comment?
Honestly, I was grateful Sarah had broken the seal that way, because it meant I could now speak freely about the topic in front of Hannah without being the one to break our solemn vow of confidentiality—one we made not only to each other, but also to the FBI. It was that chain of assumptions and deductions that led me to reply to Sarah by asking if she’d received her million-dollar finder’s fee, too.
But then I saw the look on Hannah’s face, and I knew my assumptions had been faulty. That Hannah hadn’t, in fact, already known about the finder’s fee situation before Sarah mentioned it. I also realized, much to my dismay, that Sarah must have assumed I’d already clued my girlfriend in on everything . . . which then, in turn, prompted me to realize that’s probably what a normal boyfriend would have done in the same situation . . . which therefore meant I might very well have fucked up royally by keeping Hannah totally in the dark. How badly have I fucked up here? And how much can I rightly divulge to Hannah now in order to fix it?
People are smoking and milling around the bar’s front entrance, so I motion down the sidewalk, and Hannah follows me to a desolate spot about a hundred feet from the bar’s bustling façade. As we stop and face each other, the famous song from The Bodyguard, Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You,” begins blaring, but I can barely register the tune through my blossoming anxiety.
“What’s on your mind?” I force myself to ask.
Hannah crosses her arms over her chest. “Do you think it’s normal Josh didn’t bother to tell Kat about the new house he bought in Seattle?”
I’m shocked. That wasn’t on my bingo card of things I thought Hannah would ask me. “Uh, well, in terms of Josh, yes, it’s normal. It’s actually very on-brand for him. For a person who’s not a raging commitment-phobe like Josh, however, it’d probably be more than a bit weird.” I furrow my brow. “That’s what you wanted to come out here to talk about?”
“This topic is only the appetizer, not the main course. First of all, I wanted to get your thoughts about Josh not telling Kat—his girlfriend—some big, exciting news about his life. I thought your response might help me understand you better.”
Ah. So, I’ve read her correctly. She’s pissed I’ve kept her in the dark about the finder’s fee. “I’d rather talk about you and me.”
“Hang on. I’m still curious to know a bit more about Josh. Why is his silence on-brand behavior for him?”
I shrug. “Because Josh self-sabotages whenever romantic relationships get too real or intense for him.”
“Do you self-sabotage in romantic relationships?”
“No, I’ve got the opposite problem, at least when it comes to you. Every time I look into your big blue eyes, I have to keep reminding myself there’s no rush.” Hannah is clearly unmoved by that comment, which is a bummer. I thought that was pretty smooth. “Hannah, please, tell me what’s on your mind in relation to me.”
Hannah twists her mouth, apparently considering her next words. “Was there a specific reason you didn’t tell me at dinner earlier you’re going to Munich tomorrow?”
Again, I’m floored. I wouldn’t have seen that question coming if she’d given me a hundred guesses. “I didn’t mention Munich at dinner?”
“No. To be fair, you didn’t identify your destination. So, I assumed you were going back to DC, since you said the word summit and that sounds like a DC kind of governmental word. The thing is, what boyfriend doesn’t say, ‘Hey, babe, I’m going to Germany tomorrow for a month’—especially after said girlfriend has already joked she’s a German operative?”
I grimace. She’s got a fair point. “I’m only going to be in Germany for two or three days,” I say lamely. “From there, I’m going to Fresno for my mom’s birthday, like I told you, and then to LA overnight to pack and handle a few things, and then to DC, just like you thought, where I’ll do the actual work for however long. So, in the end, your assumption was correct.”