“Oh yeah. Everything is fine.” He clears his throat. “Queenie’s birthday is coming up next month.”

“Ah, yes. Ryan was telling me he’s planning a surprise party for her. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I think we’ve got it all covered. Ryan’s got a friend who owns this axe throwing bar and he’s renting out the entire place.”

“Oh! I remember he took her there when they started dating. That’s a great location!”

“It is, and there’s this cupcake place that’s connected to it. So food and dessert are all taken care of. The only thing that needs to be dealt with are some minor decorations, but Stevie and Lainey are taking care of that.”

“How fun. Ryan told me he’s taking her on a day date, so I don’t think she’s expecting it to be a big thing.” He’s always so thoughtful when it comes to birthday celebrations. Every year he sends flowers to my work and makes a point of flying home on my birthday, or flying me out to a game.

“That’s what he told me, too. Does that mean you’ll be coming out to Seattle?”

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t miss it.” Although seeing Jake for the first time since the wedding is definitely going to be interesting, if not a little awkward, much like this conversation.

“Good, that’s good. I’m glad to hear that. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

“Me, too.” And I mean it. I am looking forward to seeing him, even if it’s challenging. I set the phone on the tray that sits over the tub, where I keep my e-reader and my glass of wine. Although tonight I’m sipping ginger tea since my stomach has been bothering me.

“I don’t know what your plans are, but you’re still more than welcome to stay here if you want. With me.” At my silence he rushes on. “I know we agreed that we need to stop… sleeping together, but, uh, that doesn’t mean we can’t still spend time together. With our clothes on.” He chuckles at the end, sounding nervous.

I close my eyes and fight a sigh. I want to say yes. I want to spend the weekend at his place, hanging out in his living room, relaxing in his hot tub, drinking coffee on his back deck in the morning. “I don’t really know if that’s a good idea, Jake.”

He’s quiet for several long seconds. “What if I told you I would be on my best behavior?”

“Do you really think you can do that?” He’s always been flirty with me. And even over the past couple of months he’s sent the occasional picture that looks innocent enough, but they always remind me of the weekends or nights we’ve spent together.

“I’d like to try,” he says softly.

“Jake.” I wish he wasn’t so persuasive.

“Hanna.” His voice is gravelly and low.

“I don’t know if I can trust myself to be alone with you,” I tell him honestly. It’s easy to convince myself that I can see him and keep him in the friend zone when there are literally thousands of miles between us, but it’s not the same when we’re sleeping under the same roof.

“I won’t let you do anything you regret.”

“You say that now, but what happens when we’ve both been drinking and we’re stumbling through the door at two in the morning and there’s no one to stop us from tearing each other’s clothes off?” I sink down in the water and groan. “And now that image is going to be burned into my head for the rest of the night.”

“It’s definitely an image I’m a fan of,” he says.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about, Jake. I think we need to learn how to be friends again, before we put ourselves in a position that’s going to make us feel bad about our decisions. I want to say that I can handle staying at your place and that I won’t come knocking on your door in the middle of the night, but I don’t feel ready to test that hypothesis. And I don’t want to put you in a position where you have to turn me down and then we’ll both feel terrible, and I’ll gain five pounds afterward from drowning my embarrassment in ice cream.”

He’s quiet for a while and then he sighs. “That’s fair. And I don’t think I’d be able to turn you down. But I’m still looking forward to seeing you, even if you’re fully dressed the entire time.”

I laugh. “Me, too.” More than I should be.

_______________

THE NEXT MORNING, my phone buzzes and I grumble about people messaging too early on weekends. I blink a few times and am slightly confused when I notice I’m on the couch in my living room, rather than in my bed. I must have fallen asleep watching TV last night, which makes sense since baths always knock me out.

I leave my phone where it is and drag my groggy self to bed. The next time I open my eyes, the clock on the nightstand reads eleven o’clock. The last time I can remember sleeping in this late was when I was in my early twenties. Those were the days when I used to go out with friends and stay up until three in the morning. I’m pretty sure I passed out before ten last night.

Work has been busy, especially since I’m being considered for a promotion. I’ve been working for the same accounting firm for the past fifteen years, and when the chance to move into a management position became available, I decided to throw my hat into the ring. It comes with more responsibility and a significant pay increase that could accelerate my retirement plan. On top of that, I’ve been spending a lot of hours at the art studio, and clearly not getting enough sleep.

I’m teaching painting lessons this afternoon, and I need to be at the studio before one, so I roll out of bed, head for the bathroom, and turn on the shower. Once I’m dressed, I make a coffee, but the cream must have gone bad, because it tastes funky. I dump it out, grab a bottle of water and a banana, and leave for the studio.

Paxton is already there by the time I arrive, which isn’t a surprise because it’s ten to one. Usually, I’m half an hour early so I have time to help set up.

“Hey! I messaged you earlier. Everything okay?” Paxton gives me a once-over.

“Oh shoot! I’m so sorry. I haven’t checked my phone at all today.” I rummage around in my purse for it but come up empty-handed. “And I don’t even have it with me. I’m a bit of a hot mess.” I set my purse down and shrug out of my coat, hanging it on a hook so I can help Paxton finish setting up.

“Late night?”

“Really early night, actually. And I slept until eleven.”

“Wow, channeling your inner teen, huh?”

“Seems that way.”

Students begin to arrive—our first class is for kids—and we spend the next hour teaching eight to ten-year-olds how to work with watercolors. After that, we have a group of seniors who are loads of fun. It’s been my side gig for a lot of years. It’s not something I’ve ever considered as a full-time job because as fun as it is, I think it would put a damper on my love of painting. But the studio is my outlet, and being here, helping people create, is my happy place.

“Want to head to Charlie’s for a bite to eat?” Paxton asks when we’re finished cleaning up.

“Sure. That sounds great.” My stomach rumbles. I haven’t eaten much apart from that banana at breakfast and a bag of chips from the vending machine in the breakroom between classes.