When We're Thirty Casey Dembowski (the chimp paradox .TXT) 📖

to make people believe they were in love if their lips never touched and they didn’t even share a bed. Then again, apparently everyone had known they were in love in college even when they hadn’t.

“See you after your show tonight,” he said with a tip of his imaginary hat.

“You don’t have to wait up.” She thought about how late she usually got home and how much she smelled like stale beer and weed and sweat. And how they would go to separate rooms to sleep.

“But I do.” He grinned and dropped his briefcase in the trunk. “It’s my husbandly duty, Mrs. Thorne.”

“HANNAH?” RILEY’S VOICE rang through the small office, louder than usual considering no one else was in yet. She would suspect Riley slept at the office if Hannah didn’t know she had a husband and a toddler and couldn’t possibly fit on her office couch at nine months pregnant. But even Riley had her limits, and missing Cecilia’s bedtime was one of them.

“Be right there!” Hannah dropped her bag onto her chair and poked at the wilting carnations. She’d left two at her desk in her Write Like a Motherfucker mug. Whenever her mother saw the mug—mainly in pictures whenever Hannah moved desks—she scoffed at its utter lack of professionalism. That it had come from Riley via an online journal they both loved or that it was one of Hannah’s most prized possessions was irrelevant. The carnations hadn’t fared well in the week she’d been away. Dumping them seemed callous—they were her first flowers from her now-husband—and the full bouquet hadn’t survived Binx and then the move.

The sound of the overpriced, overcomplicated espresso machine pulled Hannah from the flowers. Riley leaned against the counter, a pen dangling from her lips as she read from a proof of the next edition. Hannah could see the red marks from across the room.

“That’d better not be my section,” she said, walking over and reaching for the regular coffee grounds and percolator. Hannah liked lattes as much as the next person, but the machine they had made mud. That was coming from someone who had tasted all the roasts Starbucks had to offer via French press. And for the last eight months, it had been decaffeinated mud. Gross.

“No, I finished your section last night. Henry’s story turned out better than expected.” She wrote something then, with a shake of her head, scribbled it out and wrote a hasty stet at the end of the line.

“I know.” Hannah wondered when Riley would look up and notice the diamonds encircling her ring finger or even ask how her vacation had gone. She knew from experience it could be several more minutes. When Riley was editing pre-coffee, there was little else she noticed.

“Do you think we should hire him after graduation?” She looked up finally, her eyelids heavy with lack of sleep. Hannah remembered Riley’s ninth month the first time around. There had been days when she hadn’t slept, kept up by back pain and heartburn. And Baby Sutton the Second didn’t like to cooperate, just like her big sister.

“How long have you been here?” Hannah aerated Riley’s milk to tournament-quality foam.

She shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, and CeCe was having a sleepover at my mom’s, so I just came in... maybe around seven?” Riley accepted the coffee mug from Hannah with a contented sigh. “You always make the best lattes.”

“Job security,” Hannah joked, angling her hand so her wedding band was out in the open. She should’ve worn the engagement ring too. No one could miss that thing.

“How was your trip?” Riley asked, taking a seat on the battered couch they used as a coffee lounge. She put the proof down, but Hannah knew her mind was still going over whatever edit she’d left dangling. Stets didn’t last long in Riley’s world.

Hannah sat down across from her, leaning her elbows on her knees. It was no use—not when Riley was in one of her moods. Nothing would draw her attention—not a sparkling diamond band, not any subtle hints.

“Well, I actually—” Hannah took a calming breath. Despite Kate and Stephanie knowing, the official marriage license, and the honeymoon, saying it out loud at work made everything real. She plastered a giant grin on her face and held up her left hand. “I got married.”

Riley blinked at Hannah’s outstretched hand a few times before meeting her gaze uncertainly. “You and Brian got married?”

She’d walked into that one. The trial run with Stephanie clearly hadn’t taught her anything about prepping the announcement. At least Riley hadn’t assumed she was pregnant—out loud anyway.

“No, Brian and I broke up.” Hannah ran through the story she and Will had crafted to perfection before letting it spill out. “His name is Will Thorne. We went to college together and reconnected a few months ago. It was totally platonic until it wasn’t.”

“Sounds like the tagline to the next big rom-com.” Riley gave an exaggerated sigh, holding up her hands as if setting the scene. “Hannah and Will’s friendship was completely platonic... until it wasn’t. Flash to big heated first kiss followed by sad girl sitting in the window, sad boy out with his friends. Will things between them ever be the same again?”

“Maybe I should write the screenplay.” Hannah sat back and took a sip of coffee, her heart rate finally coming down a few measures. Thank God for people like Riley—people who loved love and loved their friends, and just went with it. No matter what Riley might really be thinking, she wasn’t going to share it without a direct request. Sometimes you needed a Kate, and sometimes you needed a Riley—having both was a blessing.

“A Deafening Silence production. Written by Hannah Abbott... Thorne?”

“Abbott. At least for now.” Hannah didn’t have strong feelings either way about changing her name. She had always assumed she would change it—that was what people did when they got married and started a family unit.

“Oh, you millennials and your contemporary notions. Next you’re going