exaggerated. We both laughed until our waitress came by.
“Another round?”
Hanna waved her hand, and I asked for waters.
“So, how does it feel, having your best friend and niece together?”
“Ugh,” I groaned, letting my head fall back against the booth. “Don’t remind me.”
“That bad?”
“Not really. I just like giving them shit. Plus, Kent knows I’ll kill him in his sleep if he hurts her, and I won’t feel any pity if she hurts him.”
“Seems fair,” she nodded, her smile wide. “How is it now that your best friend is in a relationship? Carina always talked about how you two were perpetual bachelors.”
“Owning a business together helps keep us in touch. And family get-togethers now.”
“Does it make you want to settle down?”
“Nah.”
“Would it be too forward to ask why?” Her eyes squinted like she was bracing for my rejection.
Any other woman, I’d be questioning the motives behind her seemingly innocent questions. But I knew with Hanna, they really just were out of curiosity. Not because she wanted to get a feel if I was open for a relationship. It was nice to be able to answer without over-analyzing each response.
“It’s just not for me,” I said with a shrug. “I like taking care of only me and my interests. I have a full life on my own.”
“Did you ever have a girlfriend, or did you just come out of the womb a loner?”
She asked her question with a smile, not realizing the weight of her words or the effect they’d have. Swallowing down the immediate rejection of the conversation, I choked out my answer. “Once.”
I could give her that after all the honesty she’d given me.
Hanna’s smile slipped, and she realized the gaffe she’d made. “Oh.”
Her wide eyes flicked around the room, looking for a change of topic, but I saw the questions building. Maybe if I gave her an inch, it would be enough to have her let it go.
“We met in high school PE. I kicked her ass in bowling, but she dropped me in soccer. Literally. She kicked the ball so hard, it hit me in the head and knocked me out for a second.”
Her hands flew up to cover her gasp, but I saw the laughter in her eyes too.
“We went to college together, and before Kent, she was the best friend I had. She knew me inside and out.”
“What happened?” she whispered as if she were bracing herself for the downfall.
But this wasn’t about me. Our situation and set up was for Hanna and what she struggled with. We didn’t need to shine any more light on a past I’d rather not discuss. We didn’t need to shine a light on how I’d failed someone before. I needed her to continue feeling confident in me. Talking about how I’d been unable to help Sabrina would squash that pretty quick.
So instead, I gave the watered-down truth.
“We just didn’t work out. Which was fine because, like I said, I’m happy with my life the way it is. I like taking care of only me.”
“I understand that,” she said softly. Her thumb dragged up and down the condensation on her glass, and she watched, entranced. “While I may want to take control of my body—to be intimate, I’m not sure I want to be with anyone.” She cleared her throat and looked up with a pain I was all too familiar with. “It feels…wrong without…without my sister.”
I didn’t have any words for Hanna. Nothing new that probably hadn’t been said to her a million times. I was sure she had a routine of thanking people for their condolences, and I didn’t need to make her use it. I didn’t offer her words about how she deserved her own happiness despite her sister not being there. I didn’t tell her that Sofia would want her to be happy. I knew me saying it wouldn’t be any different from the other hundred times others had said the same thing.
Instead, I offered her what I could. Comfort. Understanding.
I inched my hand across the table and rested my rough palm over her soft fingers. Her eyes watered, but she didn’t cry. She offered her own closed-lip smile and shocked me by turning her hand over under mine, clasping on tight.
She held on to me and something shifted. Each crumb of her trust she offered did something inside my chest I was happier ignoring.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
I nodded, becoming desperate to change the topic. “Speaking of intimacy,” I started. She blinked, and the moment passed.