real. Because nothing is official, and… and who gets lovely things, really? Who gets lovely, romantic things? In real life? No-one!”
“Evan’s pretty romantic,” Ruth said.
Hannah turned to stare at her sister in astonishment. “…Is he?”
“Yeah.” Ruth leant back against the pavement and squinted up at the moon. “He’s always doing romantic shit.”
Actually, now Hannah thought about it, that wasn’t really surprising. “Oh. I always thought you’d hate that kind of thing.”
Ruth shrugged.
Huh. “Well, to be honest, I do understand that people have… that,” Hannah admitted. “I do. I know they do. It’s just—”
“You don’t think you can,” Rae said quietly.
Hannah looked up to find the older woman staring at the moon, like Ruth. Apparently, they were all moon-starers now. She might as well join in. Gazing up at the luminous slice of pearl, Hannah sighed. “No,” she agreed. “I don’t think I can.”
“Because you’re insecure,” Rae said.
“What? No. I’m not insecure. I’m Hannah fucking Kabbah.”
“You are quite insecure,” Ruth agreed mildly.
Hannah turned to glare at her sister. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Well, you pin all your self-worth on external validation, you have to be the best at everything to consider yourself even slightly accomplished, and you apparently don’t think someone can like you enough to put up with a week of weird behaviour and an awkward moment in a garden.”
Hannah stared at her sister. Or rather, the thing that looked like her sister, but was undoubtedly an observant and talkative alien who had been lurking among them, wearing Ruth’s skin and learning their ways.
Then Alien Ruth asked, “By the way, how does Nate feel about sleeping with his nanny?”
“Not great.” Somehow, Hannah managed to answer while grappling with the astonishing suggestion that she might… actually… be… insecure?
“Well, have you considered mentioning the fact that you don’t need the job because you have £500,000 sitting in a trust fund that you refuse to use?”
“No, because I’m still refusing to use it,” Hannah snapped. “That trust fund is the physical embodiment of our father’s guilt. I’m not taking money from someone who doesn’t give a shit about me.”
“Why not?” Rae piped up. “Speaking from experience, it feels really fucking good. Spending my ex’s cash is basically a mini-orgasm every time.”
Ruth snorted out a laugh. “I like her. She has a sensible attitude.”
“I have a sensible attitude,” Hannah insisted.
“Do you? Seriously, Han, isn’t there anything you want to do with that money?”
“Can I focus on one problem at a time? I’m trying to figure out what my rampant insecurities mean for the state of my weird non-relationship.”
“Well, I think you’re about to find out,” Rae murmured.
Hannah followed Rae’s gaze until she saw a tall, broad figure moving towards them, wreathed in shadow but still unmistakable. As he came closer, she made out the tense set of Nate’s shoulders, the hands shoved into his pockets, the gleam of moonlight on his pitch-black hair.
They watched him approach in silence, as if all three of them had frozen.
“Hey,” he said. His voice was low, rougher than usual.
The women had wandered for a street or two before they’d finally settled on this particular curb, so Nate must have been wandering around, too, searching for them. And yet, his voice held all of its usual patience, despite its hoarse edge.
But Hannah couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. Not while her mind was helpfully informing her—way too late—that the ominous feeling in her chest could have been resolved days ago. All she’d ever had to do, she realised, was ask Nate where he saw this whole thing going. Oh, her brain said sweetly. Didn’t I suggest that course of action before? No? Was I too busy throwing you into random panics and making you disbelieve every reassurance he gave? Sorry.
Wow. Hannah’s brain was a fucking traitor.
And so were her sister and her friend, because both women rose like pop-up tents and scrambled for excuses to leave Hannah and Nate alone. Well; Rae scrambled. Ruth just said, “I’m gonna go,” and went.
But not before giving Hannah one last, questioning look. A look that said, Is this okay?
Hannah nodded slowly in response. And it wasn’t a lie.
When Rae and Ruth trotted off down the street, Nate sat. Usually, when he sat beside her, he’d touch her. Throw an arm over her shoulders, or take her hand, or fiddle with her hair. Now, though, he left space between them, his hands on the tarmac instead of on her.
Maybe yesterday, or even an hour ago, that distance would’ve made her