Chapter Ten
Hannah looked around her quiet living room, the deep, unsettled restlessness of discontent skittering like an itch beneath her skin. Normally her solitude was nice. She enjoyed not having anyone to answer to, complete freedom to watch terrible television or listen to pop songs, or to either go to bed at eight or stay up until four in the morning if the mood struck her. Ever since the threesome a few days ago, though, she’d been restless. Hanging out with Lori had soothed her a bit, but tonight Lori was working late, and she wanted…what? Company?
Whatever this sensation was, loneliness or boredom, it sucked. Ben and Mitchell had been on her mind nonstop, and not just remembering the sex. She missed their company. They’d created a group chat, which she called up on her phone. So far, it had just been exchanging information about the Fall Festival, ideas or funny kitchen implements that might be sex toys, a couple of stories that someone had seen online and thought the others might enjoy.
She typed out a message.
She hesitated a minute before sending, because maybe this was needy or something? But hell, she was allowed to ask for what she wanted, right?
After a moment, Ben responded.
Clear message that there would not be sex, which…was fine. She didn’t want to fuck. She wanted to visit. Relief eased through her like a balm as she got ready to leave.
A little while later, Mitchell opened their apartment door for her, smiling warmly, and on impulse, she stepped in to give him a hug. It felt like the right thing to do. He hugged back, wrapping those strong arms around her. The smell of his cologne took her right back to the other night, a flood of memories, but also an overwhelming sense of safety. She flopped down on the couch in the empty space next to Ben, who set aside his magazine to give her a smile.
“Where’s my hug? None of that for me?”
Hannah leaned across him to give him a one-arm squeeze, awkward for their position, and Ben made a noise of disapproval.
“This is a shitty hug.”
“I can’t give a good hug when you’re sitting down.”
“Nope, come here.” He turned and wrapped both arms around her, squishing her deliberately against him and tipping her to the side.
Laughing, she tried to pull away. “You’re crushing me!”
Ben let her go, both of them grinning. God, this was nice. She shouldn’t have missed this so much: it was still so new, so undefined, but also reassuringly comfortable. She kicked her feet up onto the coffee table, and Ben did the same, picking up his magazine, which appeared to be in…German?
“You read German?” Hannah raised an eyebrow at the magazine.
“Mmm-hmm.” Ben didn’t look up.
“Ben is a genius. He has a PhD in organic chemistry.” Mitchell sounded like a proud mother, and the thought that he wasn’t into Ben was laughable. “He did a year of his graduate work in Germany.”
“Why Germany?”
“The beer.” Ben raised his eyebrows like it was obvious. “I was already into it back then. I thought I could learn more in Germany, so I studied there.”
“And did you?”
“I learned a few things.” He gave her a small smile. He was secretive like that, never sharing too much, even though she tried to crack into his armor.
“So what’s that magazine about?”
“It’s a brewing magazine.” Ben showed her the front of it, which had a German-looking person holding a golden beverage aloft. “I subscribe.”
“You big nerd.” Mitchell smiled into his own book.
“What about you?” Hannah nodded toward Mitchell. “What are you reading?”
Mitchell held up his book, which had a lightsaber-wielding woman on the front. “Star Wars.”
Ben cleared his throat. “My dear roommate likes to call me a nerd from over the top of his Star Wars book.”
Mitchell cleared his throat louder, outdoing Ben. “I borrowed this book from your bookshelf.”
Ben didn’t look up. “I can neither confirm nor deny that fact.”
Hannah laughed, their banter welcoming instead of exclusive.
“You bring something to do?” Mitchell asked.
Hannah held up a bag. “Crochet, motherfuckers.”
“Look at you.” Ben nodded approvingly. “I didn’t know you were so domestic.”
“I’m domestic as fuck.” Hannah kicked her feet up onto the coffee table.
“You want a beer?” Mitchell got to his feet.
“Sure. What do you have?”
Ben and Mitchell looked at each other and laughed. “We have the whole set,” Mitchell explained. “What do you like?”
“Oh.” Hannah thought. “I don’t know. I like a little of everything.”
Ben set his magazine down on his lap. “More hoppy or less hoppy?”
“Either?”
Ben sighed, but he didn’t look really irritated. “You like fruity, or more straight-up beer flavored?”
“I guess more regular beer flavored?” It came out like a question.
Mitchell put his hands on his hips. “Name some beers you like.”
Jesus, what beers had she ordered lately? She started naming the ones she could recall off the top of her head.
Ben started to laugh. “You named two IPAs, a wheat, a stout, and two lagers.”
“I like a lot of things!” Hannah laughed with them. “Jesus, I don’t know. Whatever you give me, I’ll probably like it.”
“You’re killing me.” Ben hung his head and shook it, still grinning. “Mitchell, grab her an Autumn Leaf Red.”
“I don’t remember if I’ve had that before.” She watched Mitchell disappear into the kitchen.
Ben crossed his arms. “How do you not know what beers we have? You are literally at our brewery all the time mooning over Mitchell.”
“Hey!” Mitchell’s voice came from the kitchen, at the same time that Hannah yelled, “Hey!” at Ben as well.
Ben grinned broadly. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”
“I have not been mooning over Mitchell.” She paused. After sleeping with them, was there any point in the deception? “Maybe a little.”
“Ha!” Ben called toward the kitchen, where he was met with only silence from Mitchell.
“But,” Hannah added, “I don’t really pay attention to the beer. I just order whatever’s first on the specials board.” At Ben’s mock horror, she spread her arms. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know I was committing some kind of cardinal sin.”
Mitchell emerged from the kitchen pouring a hand-labeled bottle into a tall glass. “It’s a red ale. We call it Autumn Leaf Red, and then we brew a similar one for Christmas that’s a little bit maltier, and that one is Santa’s Big Red Bag.”
Hannah laughed. “Couldn’t go with Santa’s Red Sack?”
“Tried it.” Ben scratched his beard. “But the marketing team lost their shit about my suggestions for the label.”
The beer, rich and malty, made Hannah pause midsip. “This is really nice,” she said after swallowing. “It smells like something. Some kind of fruit? I don’t know. It reminds me of fall. And…fireplaces.”
“Cherries.” Ben nodded knowingly as Mitchell flopped back down into his chair. “That’s one of our favorites. I’m glad you like it.”
Hannah looked between the two of them. “So this is a quiet evening at home for you? Beer and reading? You’re like some kind of Hallmark ad or something.”
“Ben plays a lot of Xbox,” Mitchell offered.
“Not a lot of Xbox. A reasonable amount of Xbox.” Ben took his own beer off the table, which was still in the bottle that had been labeled “pale” with a Sharpie on a piece of masking tape. “And Mitchell spends most of his free time at the gym.”
“Not most of my free time,” Mitchell retorted. “Seriously, there’s no need to exaggerate because I called out your video games.”
“You did not call me out. I am not at all ashamed of my video-game prowess.” Ben straightened in his spot on the couch. “But you do work out every day. Literally every day.”
“I like it.” Mitchell shrugged. “It shuts up my mind sometimes.”
“So no, we don’t have quiet evenings at home like this a lot. But they’re nice when they happen.” Ben paused, then gave Hannah a lascivious grin. “Also, sometimes we just fuck.”
Mitchell fumbled the book he had just picked up, making Hannah laugh out loud. Mitchell was so confident and dominant, it was incongruous to see him get flustered by Ben’s bluntness. “I’d like to see that.”
Ben winked at Mitchell, who was rolling his eyes. “Yeah, so you mentioned.”
“I liked what I saw the other night.”
It was the first time anyone had overtly brought up the threesome, and the reference hung between them for a moment before Mitchell responded, his tone tentative. “Well, there’s more where that came from.”
It wasn’t an immediate come-on, and the playful banter felt comfortable and silly rather than a legitimate offer. They each turned back to their respective reading material, leaving Hannah glancing between the two for a couple of minutes, and then she pulled out her crochet and tucked her feet underneath her on the couch. This wasn’t a bad way to spend the evening.
…
The next night, as Hannah was just getting home from closing up the shop, she got a message from Ben. Mitchell’s closing tonight. Want to come over and watch a movie?
There was no harm in saying yes, right? So she went over to the condo, Ben ordered a pizza, and they flopped together on the couch with one of the latest superhero movies that had just come onto Netflix. Not a lot of conversation between them; they shared pizza and a bag of chips, drank a beer each, and watched until the final after-credits scene rolled and the screen returned to the Netflix main menu. Neither of them moved to put on something else.
With Ben’s arm around her and a fuzzy blanket over her lap, warm sleepiness filled Hannah like a comforting weight. “This is nice.”
“Hmm?” Ben stirred next to her. “Yeah. I like this.”
The silence felt comforting, rather than oppressive. Hannah shifted to curl more deliberately into Ben, wrapping her arm across his chest and settling her head on his shoulder. “How long have you and Mitchell lived together?”
“Seven years, more or less.” Ben smiled, his expression reflective. “He’s a great roommate. Took me in at a pretty low point in my life.”
She made a thoughtful noise, wanting to ask more but not wanting Ben to feel uncomfortable. “He seems like a good friend.”
“He is. Most reliable guy I’ve ever known.” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “You know he almost dropped out of high school?”
“Really?” Hannah couldn’t imagine Mitchell being anything other than successful at anything he tried.
“Yeah. School was shit for him. He’s got dyscalculia. Mixes up numbers and stuff.” Ben swirled his fingers around. “Smart guy, though. Brilliant chef. He took home ec and aced everything. Decided to stick it out and then go to culinary school.” Ben chuckled. “His dad was pissed. Wanted Mitchell to go into the military like he did.”
She could Mitchell in a military environment. “He probably would’ve done fine there.”
“Some of it? Oh, totally.” Ben nodded. “Discipline, schedule, organization, that’s Mitchell’s jam. But he hates guns.” Ben’s lips curled in a soft smile, his affection for Mitchell written all over his face.
“And are his parents still upset?”
“About the military thing? Nah.” Ben shook his head. “He was a star at the CIA.” At her blank stare, he explained further. “Culinary Institute of America. Top marks, internship at a Michelin-star restaurant in New York City—trust me, his parents were thrilled.” He paused, lips parted midthought. “They were not as thrilled when he brought home a boyfriend for Thanksgiving one year, though.”
“Shit, I bet.” Military family with a not-straight son? That couldn’t have been pretty.
“They got over it, though,” Ben added quickly. “They’re not bigots. Good people. Just a little old-fashioned.”
“They live around here?”
“Up in Vermont.” Ben pointed up, like Vermont was physically hanging over their heads. “His dad teaches up at Norwich University, the military academy up there.”
“And Mitchell left his career to open the pub with you?”
Ben tipped his head to the side. “Yeah. Crazy, right? But I guess it worked out.” He leaned back against the arm of the couch, giving Hannah a space to stretch out alongside him and rest her head on his chest. His heartbeat thumped quietly in her ears, and when he began to lightly stroke her hair, she closed her eyes.
“You really care about him.”
Ben’s hand paused, then continued the stroking. “I do.” She could hear the smile in his voice, and then he cleared his throat. “What’s your story? How’d you end up selling sex toys in Mapleton?”
That went back a few years. “Took the scenic route. I went to UMass Amherst, majored in communication, wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life. You know, the common story.”
“Yup, I’m familiar with it.” Ben’s hand rested lightly on her back.
“I got out of school, couldn’t get a job, so I went back to school, got a master’s degree in the same field. Like I thought it would help.” She snorted at her own naïveté. “Not that there’s anything wrong with communications, but I literally had no idea what I was going to do, and I just ended up with more debt. Worked at a few bookstores, did some temping, couldn’t find anything I liked. But there was a sex shop I used to love up in Burlington, where I’m from, and I realized there wasn’t one here in Mapleton. So this space came up for rent on Main Street, and before I knew it, I was at the bank taking out a loan to start the business.” A twinge of pride warmed her as she remembered those days.
“Wow. No business classes, nothing?”
“Well, yeah, I took some in night school once I figured out I didn’t know what I was doing.” She curled closer into his side, trying to think about how much she still didn’t always know what she was doing. “It’s been rocky, but I’m glad I did it.”
“How long have you had the shop?”
“About four years now.”
“Those first five years are hard.”
God, he had no idea. Or maybe he did, because he was a business owner as well. She didn’t want to talk more about this, though, because then she’d think about the hole she had dug herself into. “What about you? What brought you here?”
Ben patted her shoulder. “That’s a mess.”
“I don’t mind hearing about a mess.”
The silence stretched out endlessly, only their breathing interrupting the stillness. It seemed she wasn’t going to get that story. Finally, Ben broke the silence. “I was married once. It didn’t end well.”
The mess from that could have been anything. She really didn’t know very much about him at all. “Kids?”
“No, thank god.” Ben breathed out a sigh, his chest moving under her ear. “That would have been really complicated. But, we’re divorced now, and we’re both a lot happier. She’s remarried. Lives out in Worcester.”
Maybe she shouldn’t pry, but she was curious. “What happened?”
Ben exhaled. “Viv and I were high school sweethearts. She was my first love. I loved her from pretty much the time I knew what love was. We got married young, right out of college. Right about the same time, I was finally coming to terms with my bisexuality. I thought, hey, this doesn’t matter, because I’m married. I chose someone.” He stopped talking for a minute, his hand tensing up where it rested on her back. “But I felt like I needed to at least tell her. Like, I didn’t want anyone else, but hiding who I was started to feel shitty. So, I told her, and she…didn’t take it well. Thought I was going to cheat on her. She never trusted me again, even though I was faithful to her the entire time. We tried therapy, and it just wasn’t working. So we split up.”
Hannah squeezed him a bit tighter. “That must’ve been awful.”
He was silent for another moment. “You know I have a photographic memory?”
An odd subject change. “Yeah? Mitchell mentioned it.”
“Well, that just means that I can still recall every fight we’ve ever had, right now, every word of it. Any bad memory, any terrible thing, and I can recall it like it just happened yesterday.”
Hannah propped herself up on one arm, her hair falling over her shoulder onto his chest. Ben’s expression was more honest than she’d ever seen it, no playful witticisms, no flirtatious jokes to take away from the moment, and her heart went out to him. In the near darkness, his openness beckoned her, and she went.
He kissed her back, sweetly, softly, the exact right kind of kiss for this intimacy. Lifting her head, she brushed her nose with his. “You know, that also means you can recall the good moments. Your best moments. Like they just happened yesterday.”
Ben smiled. “That’s true.”
She crossed her arms under her chin, now lying on her stomach half on top of him. “Did you always know you wanted to be a brewer?”
“Nope. I was going to be a chemist. I spent a few years in the pharmaceutical industry, and brewing was just a hobby.” He lifted his hand to tuck her hair back behind her ear. “When my marriage with Viv ended, I went through a pretty rough patch. Fell into a depression. Stopped showing up for work. Lost my job. I was at rock bottom when Mitchell called me out of the blue. Said he was tired of living in New York and wanted to come back to Massachusetts. We met up, talked about how to change our lives, and decided to start the pub.”
Hannah smiled. “That sounds like Mitchell. Did he know what kind of rough shape you were in?”
“He had to have known. But he didn’t call me on it. Just said, ‘hey, let’s be partners.’ And he was strict about it, too. Made me draw up a fucking contract and everything.” He pointed toward the wall.
Hannah turned her head to follow his gaze and saw a small frame, just big enough to hold a standard-size piece of paper. That was worth seeing more closely. She climbed out from his cuddle and walked over to the wall to see what he had been pointing at.
“You framed it?”
“We had to.” Ben grinned. “It reminds us where we came from.”
Hannah skimmed down the list. The contract was just one page, written in tiny font, probably eight-point, minimal margins, but it outlined the roles and responsibilities of both partners of the Mapleton Pub. “Jesus. This is thorough for one page.”
“He had a lawyer draw it up. That’s actually still the lawyer we use today.”
At the bottom of the page, both their signatures marked the available lines: Ben’s a chicken-scratch scrawl and Mitchell’s a precise, even cursive. Seeing this contract, hearing Ben’s story, a whole new wave of affection for both of them washed through her. “This is really something, you know.”
“What, the contract?”
She waved her arms, because there wasn’t a way to encompass all the different elements verbally. “You two. The pub. This. All of it.”
Ben grinned. “I guess so.”
Hannah returned to where he was still flopped on the couch, then leaned down to give him a kiss. He smiled as he kissed her back.
“You want to stay the night?” he asked.
Oh. Her knee-jerk response was yes, because of course she did. The pleasures of waking up in someone’s arms, the casual intimacy of sleeping in another person’s bed—these were the elements of a relationship that she loved and missed. She could have that tonight, and without even the pressure of something romantic. Comfort, physical closeness, the warmth of someone close by. She wanted it so badly, her heart ached beneath her breastbone.
And that was why she had to say no.
She couldn’t let herself want something like this, not this soon, not this deep. She couldn’t handle the kind of vulnerability that would arise if she kept going down this path. Hating herself for it, but knowing it was the only way to keep her heart intact, she shook her head. “Nah. I should go. But this has been fun. Mitchell still gonna come help me pack up the shop later this week?”
“He’s planning on it.” Ben reached out to her and squeezed her hand. “Drive safe.”
Back in her car, Hannah gripped the steering wheel and hung her head. She could still go back inside and spend the night with Ben. It wasn’t too late. She could walk back up to that door, kiss him, climb into his bed, share this night together. Share other nights together.
And then what?
Lori had said she could have both of them, but wasn’t that wishful thinking, an impossible delusion? She didn’t know anyone who was committed to more than one person. People didn’t do that in real life, and they didn’t even really do it in the movies, either. Eventually, someone was going to make her choose. If she didn’t fall in love with either of them, it would be easy. If she fell in love with one of them, it would be messy.
If she fell in love with both of them, she was doomed.
This was a friendship with fucking, nothing more. Romance was terrifying. There was a different kind of vulnerability if she were to fall in love. Surely it would hurt far more to walk away. She wanted to be able to walk away.
Love was about giving up control, and she wasn’t ready to do that. Giving up control in bed was one thing: hot, fun, playful. But giving up control of her life? Giving up the independence she’d worked so hard to achieve, only to attach herself to someone else? Or to two someone elses? Having to consider more than her own needs? It was frightening. It opened her up, exposed her vulnerability. She could fail, say something wrong, give them a reason to leave, and she could lose both of them in the process.
Romance right now was an easy way to end up with her heart broken two ways at once. And as long as she could, she was going to avoid it.