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

a memory came back to her—graduation night, too many beers, and Will’s lips on hers for the first and only time.

She jumped as her phone vibrated, shaking the thought of Will and that long-ago kiss from her mind. Brian was here.

Shit, shit, shit. Hannah scrambled to clear the mess, putting the wine glasses in the sink, the pizza box on top of the garbage, and the leftover crusts in the pail. She didn’t need Binx presenting her with a dead mouse in the morning. Brian’s keys sounded outside the door as he fumbled with the dead bolt. He never remembered which key went where. Penguins could be sexy. Not that it mattered. He was probably wearing Star Wars boxers.

“Hannah?”

She stepped into the living room, pulling her hair back in a messy bun. Brian leaned against the back of the couch. He was beautiful—tall but not lanky, athletic but not muscular. His light brown hair fell to his ears and hid the soft green of his eyes. It did her in every time she thought about ending things. She would miss those cheekbones, those bony hips, and the flutter she got every time he acted like the man she knew he could be instead of the boy he insisted on remaining. He’d even forgone the graphic tee tonight, opting for a fitted polo. Small miracles.

He turned to her with a smile, holding out a boutique of red roses clearly from the bodega down the street. “Happy birthday.”

So much for pretending until morning.

Chapter 2Hannah

Binx at her side, a steaming cup of coffee, and Brian’s soft snores coupled with rain pattering against the building made for a perfect morning. Hannah had been sitting on the couch with her feet up for the last twenty minutes, bundled in her favorite hoodie that she’d stolen from Brian. The temperature had dropped overnight, but the heat hadn’t kicked on yet. She breathed in the aroma of her coffee. If only it was the weekend. Hannah loved rainy days with their built-in excuse to stay inside under the covers. The dulcet sounds of a rainstorm calmed her, eliciting memories of childhood movie nights. Her knee, however, did not appreciate the change in pressure. It hurt the most when it rained. Lately, it hurt all the time.

Formative years filled with basketball and volleyball hadn’t done her knees any favors, and a full-on, butt-in-the-air slip on some ice right after college had only added to her problems. All that had been manageable, but then there’d been the car accident last year. Hannah had been prescribed physical therapy, but the marketplace plan she had for catastrophes didn’t cover such luxuries. At least, it didn’t cover them enough to keep both her and Binx housed and fed. Her pain had ebbed and flowed over the last fifteen months.

Hannah had a sneaking suspicion she needed surgery. She stretched out her bad knee, pushing her leg as straight as it would go without pain. She noted the minor swelling with a sigh.

“You really need to do something about that knee.” Brian stood in the doorway of her bedroom, wearing boxers covered in R2-D2s and C-3POs. He watched her with a concerned pout, as if that helped her any.

“It’s just the rain,” she said, bringing her knee back to a comfortable position. “Coffee’s fresh.”

“It’s not just the rain. You’ve been favoring it for weeks.”

Months, actually. It had worsened since that half-marathon she had known better than to run, but she wasn’t going to agree with him.

Brian wrapped his arms around himself. “It’s freezing in here.”

He disappeared into the bedroom, reemerging in the sole pair of pajama pants he kept at her place and the zip-up hoodie he’d arrived in last night. It had been a battle to get him to leave any clothes there because of Binx and his alleged cat allergy. However, after a few frigid nights without heat, he’d brought over a single outfit and pajamas.

“I’m sure it will warm up eventually.”

He zipped the hoodie all the way up. “You really need to talk to your landlord. No one should live like this.”

This is New York City! she wanted to scream. She didn’t have bedbugs. Her rent was a steal considering the fact that she had an elevator and a doorman. She could live with the inconsistent heating situation.

“Is my Claritin in the bathroom?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.

The discontent that resided under Hannah’s ribcage stirred. She lived with it much like she lived with her knee pain—never quite feeling comfortable. She told herself being with Brian was better than being alone, but right now, she felt that discontent spiraling into resentment.

“Babe.”

Hannah glanced toward the kitchen where his voice had come from. Maybe he had decided coffee was more prudent, considering she hadn’t heard him sniffle once in the hours he’d been at her place. Her eyes passed over the roses she had arranged in a vase next to the television. Agitation swelled in her chest. She took a breath. The roses weren’t the problem. She liked roses fine. But didn’t her thirtieth birthday deserve more?

“Hey, babe. Come here for a second.” Brian peeked out from the kitchen, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He wore a cheesy, excited smile that meant he was up to something—something he thought was romantic or epic, or epically romantic.

When she reached the kitchen, he was sitting at the table with his feet up, his toes hidden by her slippers, which he had apparently stolen. He didn’t say anything when she entered but simply continued to stare at his phone. She’d played this game before. Whatever it was he wanted her to see, it was most likely in plain sight.

Nothing was on the counter except the same dirty dishes she had left there for the last two nights. The wine glasses were still in the sink, and the same banana peel was sticking out of the garbage pail from that morning. God, she wasn’t in the mood for this, particularly