Kent chuckled beside her, and I glared.
“I neither deny nor encourage her. Merely stand by and offer support,” he said like he was pleading the fifth amendment.
“I thought we were friends.”
“The best, and I will choose you every time. Unless I have to choose her. I’ll always choose her.” Somehow, Kent made my niece—the Olivia Witt—blush. “Thankfully, she’d never make me not choose you.”
I groaned. “This is too close to PDA. We had rules to you two dating. Go dance before I get sick.”
Olivia laughed and gave me a tight hug. “It’s okay to like her, Uncle Daniel,” she whispered for only me.
She pulled back with a wink and grabbed Kent’s arm, dragging him to the dance floor.
Scanning the room, I found Hanna shaking hands with another person. I laughed as she eyeballed a waiter walking by with champagne, and I could imagine she’d probably been too busy greeting everyone to stop and drink.
Grabbing a glass for her, I walked up just as the conversation ended.
“A drink?”
She turned to me, reaching for the glass with both hands. “Oh my god. Thank you.” She drained half the glass in one gulp. “I could kiss you.”
I wouldn’t stop you.
I shoved that thought down and covered it with a laugh as I offered her my arm, leading her off to one of the high-top tables at the edge of the room. She gripped the table and lifted each leg enough to roll her ankles under the dress.
“These shoes looked so cute in the store, but I can’t wait to take them off.”
“You could probably take them off and hold them in your pockets. No one would know.”
She laughed before taking a deep breath, looking exhausted with only half the night over with.
“How are you holding up?”
“Good,” she said but paused and let the mask drop for a moment, her shoulders falling a couple of inches. “I’m okay. It’s the ninth year without her this week. It’s…hard.”
“They say time helps soften the edges of our pain. And it does, but it also doesn’t.”
She huffed a commiserating laugh. “Speaking from experience?”
She didn’t look at me when she asked, and I was grateful she couldn’t see the range of emotions washing over me. I avoided talking about Sabrina as much as I could. Kent was the only person who knew of her. Except David, but we didn’t talk enough. It’d been a long time since I’d had to look inside and examine my emotions about her. “Yeah. The girlfriend from long ago,” I finally answered. I don’t’ know what made me explain it. Maybe because Hanna was being so open with me, and I wanted to give her some understanding in return. “I miss the chances I had with her. The chances to make things great and follow through on what we’d said we would.”
“I get that. Sofia always talked about our future. I think it helped her get through. She made me promise I’d do math, even if it made me a nerd.” She laughed softly. “I’d been too cool to be smart before everything. I was only interested in boys.”
“Like most teenage girls. And just for the record, men like smart women. Those math puns get me every time,” I said, faking an exaggerated shiver.
“Shut up.” It had the intended effect, pulling a real laugh from her. “She wanted to dance,” she continued, with a little less sadness clinging to her. “She talked about it all the time, saying that when we escaped, she would be, and I quote, a motherfucking ballerina and fuck everyone who said she was too old. She claimed she’d do pirouettes around them.”
“She sounds awesome.”
Her smile dimmed but didn’t disappear. “She was the best.” She finished her champagne before softly asking, “What did you plan on doing with her?”
I took a deep breath. “Travel was the biggest thing. Which is funny since I barely go anywhere outside of Cincinnati.”
“Then travel. Just because you aren’t together anymore doesn’t mean you can’t travel on your own.”
She said it like it was the easiest thing in the world, and maybe it was. “I should.”
“No. I mean it. Travel. Plan it. I’ll help you. We can do it together.” The words tumbled out like a snowball, gaining momentum in her mind the more she said it.
“What?”
She stood tall and pulled her shoulders back, confidence in her decision radiating off her, doing its best to pull me into her idea. “Yeah. Come on,” she coaxed. “Let’s go. I’ll do it with you.”
Humoring her and maybe out of a bit more than curiosity, I asked, “Okay, where to?”
“Hmmm.” She tipped her head and tapped her finger against pursed lips. “Italy,” she finally said.
I laughed and rubbed my hand along the back of my neck. “I uh, I don’t have a passport.”
She blinked with a deadpanned stare, one brow creeping high with judgment I deserved. “How do you not have a passport?”