Chapter 56 DND
Hannah
The bar hit us all at once.
Warm light, low music, the clink of glasses, laughter spilling over itself in waves,it was one of those places that felt alive without trying too hard. The kind of place where people leaned in close, where conversations blurred into background noise, where the air smelled faintly of citrus, spice, and something fried.
Sienna was already grinning as she made a beeline for the bar, waving at the bartender like they were old friends.
“Don’t tell me you remember me,” she said, leaning her elbows against the counter.
The bartender laughed. “Hard to forget someone who tips well and cries over margaritas.”
“That was one time,” Sienna protested, hand to her chest. “And it was a very emotional week.”
I laughed despite myself as the rest of the staff crowded in, shouting drink orders over one another. I hovered just behind Sienna, shrugging off my jacket, the noise washing over me in a way that loosened something tight in my chest.
“What are you having?” Gio asked, craning his neck to look at me.
“Something with alcohol,” I said. “Surprise me.”
“That’s dangerous information to give,” he said solemnly.
“Live a little,” I shot back.
Drinks arrived quickly with glasses sweating, ice clinking and soon we were herded toward a long table near the back. We slid into seats, bags piled at our feet, bodies angled inward like we were closing a circle around ourselves.
Conversation started immediately, overlapping and loud.
Gio launched into a dramatic retelling of a customer who’d tried to return a dog because it “looked at him funny.” Someone else talked about a cat that had escaped its enclosure and caused chaos earlier in the week. Laughter came easily, the kind that made your cheeks ache and your shoulders relax without you noticing.
I laughed too. I leaned in, added my own commentary, rolled my eyes at the right moments. From the outside, I probably looked fine. Normal. Present.
But somewhere in the back of my mind, like a low static hum, Timothy existed.
I tried to shove the thought away. Focused instead on the condensation sliding down my glass, on the way Sienna’s laughter sounded freer than it had all week, on Gio gesturing so wildly he nearly knocked over his drink.
Food arrived in a flurry of plates and appreciative noises.
“Oh, wow,” someone breathed.
“This smells so fucking insane.”
“Why have we not been here before again?”
I took a bite and actually moaned, earning a few looks.
“What?” I said defensively. “It’s good good. Sue me.”
We all laughed and then dug in with abandon, passing plates, stealing fries, rating dishes like we were judges on a show no one had asked us to be on.
Between bites, conversations splintered.
Sienna shifted closer to me, lowering her voice. “Okay. I have something to tell you.”
I perked up immediately. “That tone means gossip.”
She smiled despite herself, a little shy, a little excited. “I met someone.”
I nearly choked. “You what?”
“Hannah,” she hissed, laughing. “Keep your voice down.”
I leaned in, eyes wide. “Who? When? Where? Don’t skip details.”
She shook her head, cheeks pink. “Okay. Remember when I went back home? When my granny was still in the hospital?”
I nodded slowly.
“There was this nurse,” she said. “Well, technically he works in radiology. His name is Philip.”
“Philip,” I repeated. “Go on.”
She laughed, glancing down at her plate. “He was the one who helped wheel Granny in for one of her scans. And he was just… kind. Like genuinely kind. Not fake nice.”
I softened without meaning to. “That already sounds dangerous.”
“It gets worse,” she said. “We kept running into each other. Cafeteria. Hallways. Once in the elevator when it got stuck for like ten minutes.”
My gasp was entirely involuntary. “No.”
“Yes. And we just… talked. About everything. About work, about family, about how terrible hospital coffee is.”
She paused, poking at her food. “He asked about Granny every time he saw me.”
“That’s it,” I said. “I’m in love with him for you.”
She laughed, but there was a wistful edge to it. “He’s also ridiculously attractive. Like unfairly so.”
“Describe,” I demanded.
“Tall,” she said. “Soft voice. Kind eyes. And he smells good. Like clean laundry and something woodsy.”
I sighed dreamily. “Why didn’t you get his number?”
She made a face. “Timing. Everything was… heavy. And then Granny got worse. And then she was gone.”
I reached for her hand under the table, squeezing gently. “I’m glad you had something good in the middle of all that.”
She squeezed back. “Me too. Even if it went nowhere.”
“It doesn’t have to be nowhere,” I said firmly. “Life is weird. Paths cross again.”
She smiled at me, eyes shining. “You’re an optimist.”
“Only about other people’s love lives,” I said dryly.
Sienna snorted and then the rest of the table dragged us back into general conversation soon after, someone bringing up a disastrous date, someone else arguing passionately about the best kind of pizza. I let myself be pulled along again, laughing, chiming in, letting the noise do its work.
Then my phone buzzed.
Once.
I ignored it.
It buzzed again.
I frowned, pulling it out of my bag just enough to glance at the screen.
Timothy.
My chest tightened immediately, like a reflex I hadn’t trained myself out of yet.
The bar noise faded a little as my thumb hovered over the screen. Answering would mean stepping outside. Lowering my voice. Facing him. Letting whatever this thing between us was stretch a little further.
Declining would mean… avoiding. Postponing. Pretending tonight belonged only to me.
The phone buzzed again.
I swallowed, then pressed decline.
My hands moved before I could overthink it: settings, do not disturb, confirm. The screen went dark.
I shoved the phone back into my bag like it had burned me.
Gio said something ridiculous at that exact moment, throwing his hands up in mock outrage, and everyone burst into laughter. I forced my lips into a smile, leaned forward, let out a laugh that sounded almost like mine.
Almost.
But even as the conversation carried on, as drinks were refilled and plates slowly emptied, there was a tightness in my chest that didn’t ease.
I told myself it was fine.
And I didn’t look back at my bag.