Chapter Eleven

Mitchell pulled up in front of Hannah’s shop and parked amid a pile of fallen leaves blown up against the curb. After summer had lingered too late into September, October had roared in with cold and frost all at once, and the trees responded with a cascade of leaves. Mitchell wrapped his jacket tighter as he stepped out into the brisk wind. He should have gone into Hannah’s shop before this. He had nothing against sex toys and had always wanted a few of his own, but he’d never made time to actually go and buy them. Also, his complicated feelings for Hannah had probably been making him avoid the place.

“Knock, knock.” He rapped on the closed door with its frosted glass and “18+ only” sign. The shop had closed a half hour ago, according to the hours stenciled on the door.

“It’s open!” she called from inside.

Yes, Please was welcoming, warm and cozy, and he spent a minute getting acclimated as he stepped inside. Hannah stepped out from the back room wiping her hands on her jeans, and she brightened at the sight of him. The big hug she gave him in greeting pressed her soft body against him. Damn, she smelled good, and he couldn’t resist inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. Stepping back, she held him by the arms, excitement all over her face. “You’ve never been in here before, right?”

“Nope.” He glanced around. This would be intimidating for someone less difficult to intimidate. “Overwhelming” was a better word for the plethora of products covering every spare surface. “You have a lot of stuff.”

“No, you’ve got to actually walk around and look at things.” She grabbed him by the hand and led him over to a rack of dildos, every size and color of the rainbow, including some in an actual rainbow pattern. “Dicks ahoy.”

“This is quite a collection.” He scanned the racks. “I thought there would be, like, a couple of types and a variety of sizes.”

“Variety is the spice of life.” She squeezed his hand, which she was still holding. “I like to have a range of options for sale. People are picky. Or they should be. Lots of people think all dicks are alike, but they’re not.”

“Like me and Ben?”

Hannah looked up at him and smiled mischievously, her tongue slightly between her teeth. “Yeah, like you and Ben. Two different dicks, both great in different ways.”

“I see.”

“You got any of these?” She motioned to the dildos.

“Nope, can’t say that I do. Ben does, though.”

“Oh, does he?” She raised an eyebrow. “You ever use it together?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.” It was an intriguing prospect, one that he should really pursue one of these times.

“Ever thought about getting one of your own?”

“I’ve thought about it, yeah. Just never got around to actually doing it.”

Hannah tugged him over to a series of bureaus covered in vibrators. “The tour continues. These are things that buzz.” Everything was out of the box, just waiting to be handled and tested. Mitchell looked without touching until Hannah picked up a vibrator and turned it on. It was a long silicone thing with a knob on the end, resembling one of those old-fashioned stick microphones like Bob Barker used to use on The Price Is Right, only thick. It wasn’t a very sexy comparison. Hannah booped Mitchell on the nose with it.

“Hey!” He let go of her hand and ducked away from the toy, grinning.

Laughing, Hannah turned off the vibrator. “Okay, here you go. Come check these out.” She pulled him to another rack covered in plugs. “For your butt!”

“I know what butt plugs are.” He perused them, examining the different rows. “Now this I’d be into.”

“Mmm-hmm. Butt plugs are good times.” She picked up a steel one from the middle shelf. “This is my favorite. It’s got a little loop, so if I wanted I could tie a tail onto it.”

Mitchell took the toy, surprised at how heavy it was. “You like wearing a tail?”

“Maybe.” Hannah shrugged and replaced the toy on the shelf. “Could be fun. I like lots of things.”

“Hence this section over here?” This time, Mitchell was the one who tugged her over to a section of kink supplies. A rack of paddles, floggers, and crops hung, with more implements than he would probably ever use, and then a bunch of cuffs and collars lined another separate rack. “Damn. You really sell this much kink stuff?”

“Not as much as I thought I would when I invested.” She frowned. “It mostly just sits here.”

“Have you thought about marketing especially to some of the kink communities? I imagine there are some in this area.” Mitchell rubbed his chin. “Or maybe do some online distribution?”

“Yeah, I have an online shop that does pretty well.” Hannah frowned. Obviously there was something going on with that idea, so he changed the subject.

“Now what’s here? Does anybody really need this much lube?” Mitchell gestured at the rack of lube.

“There’s all kinds! People have allergies and preferences and like lube for different purposes. It’s a high-margin item and an easy add-on, so I carry a lot of it.” She tapped one of the bottles. “Good shit.”

“So.” Mitchell put his hands on his hips. “What are we packing up for the festival?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to decide. I was hoping I could talk over some ideas with you and see what you think? You’re good at marketing.”

“That’s mostly Ben’s department, but I help.”

“All right. Let’s start.”

He helped her select a bunch of different items, mostly letting her do the choosing and then giving feedback if she seemed really stuck between two options. She didn’t seem to actually need much of his help, but it was nice to hang out with her. Maybe that’s why she’d invited him. That was nice to imagine.

“Do you sell more in your store, or online?”

“In the store. I do pretty well online, but most of my business comes from in-person sales. And I work with a marketing firm, but it’s expensive, and I’m not seeing the exact results I want.” Hannah fiddled with one of the dildos she was holding. It was an odd sight, watching her flipping a wobbly bright-blue dick back and forth in her hand without much thought. She sighed, setting the dick back on the rack and then leaning against the counter, tilting her head to look up at the ceiling. “I hate doing anything half-assed. I want everything to be just right, or I’d rather not do it at all. I don’t want to be barely scraping by. I want to be a success.”

“Perfectionism?”

She snorted. “Not that hard to tell, is it?”

Perfectionism never worked out well. Young chefs from culinary school dealt with that, approaching every dish wanting to get the exact right sear every time and determined to master one dish before moving on to another. If they couldn’t break the habit, they never made it through. “Maybe you’re being too hard on yourself. Small businesses are challenging, and you sound like maybe you’ve got unreasonable expectations.”

Hannah made a face, and fine. He wasn’t going to push the matter anymore. If she didn’t want help, he didn’t need to give her any help. She could do all of this herself.

Instead of pushing past his phrases with some kind of twisted logic, though, she changed the subject entirely. “So I’ve got a question for you. You’ve been living with Ben for almost seven years now, right?

Mitchell nodded. “Somewhere around there.”

“When did you start fucking?”

That was a quicker memory. “Two years ago.” The thought came back to him almost immediately, of Ben leaning against his bedroom door frame while he was pacing manically back and forth, worried about their upcoming restaurant inspection by a well-known regional food critic. Ben had been so calm, so nonchalant as he offered to take Mitchell’s mind off everything. That was the first time they’d ever confronted the tension between them head-on, and after that night, it had become a regular occurrence, something they returned to without question.

He’d been spacing out. Hannah wore a little grin on her face. “You go back a ways there? Having a few good memories?”

His face heated. No use denying it. “A few.” He smiled.

“You want to know what I think?” She lined up the cases of sex toys behind the counter and turned to face Mitchell, her expression daring him to comment.

He could go there. “What? What do you think?”

“I think you’re both in denial. I think you’re both pretending this is a no-strings-attached sex thing, but you’re totally into each other.” She nodded, completely smug.

Yeah, it made sense that she’d think that. Hannah, who he was beginning to think saw everything in black-and-white, was trying to fit them into the boxes she understood. “I’ve heard that before.” He got to his feet and folded up the chair he was sitting on, returning it behind the counter. “It’s not really that big a deal.”

“You love him?”

Mitchell’s stomach twisted. God, he hated this question. He ignored it every time it came up in his head, because it was a question he didn’t really want to confront. “I care about him a lot. I want him to be successful and happy. I like spending time with him.” That felt generic, and in some ways it was. “I feel that way about all my friends. The people I do Crossfit with, my employees at the restaurant, lots of people.”

Hannah’s face said she was not convinced. “Yeah, yeah, general love of humanity. Really vague and altruistic, Mitchell.” The way she said his name was like an accusation, but not angry. “Really. Ben isn’t different? He’s not special? You feel the same about him as you do about all the people in your restaurant?” She tipped her head to the side. “Really?”

“Okay, not exactly.” Too bad there wasn’t a wall between them right now. He wanted some space. “But he’s my best friend. I’m not in love with him. I don’t want him to give up all his other relationships and be with only me forever.”

“Does he have other relationships?” she asked.

Mitchell frowned. “Well, not right now.” Not in a long while, actually. “But I don’t want him to give up the possibility, either. I don’t want him to limit himself.”

Hannah nodded slowly. “I see. And you think he would have to do that if you two were in love with each other? He’d have to be your one and only?”

Ahh. “This is a polyamory thing, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “I just think you should think about this stuff. You’re clearly not unemotional about him. You care about him. He also clearly cares about you.”

“There’s also the business.” Mitchell knew that was part of it. “Mixing business and friendship is risky enough, but adding something more than that? If it goes wrong, it could go wrong all over.” He swallowed.

“Maybe it wouldn’t go wrong.”

“Why do you care one way or the other?” Her investment in this didn’t really make sense.

She looked into his eyes. “Because you’re interesting. I like learning about you. I like spending time with you.”

She reached out for him, and he walked closer, drawn in as though she were pulling him forward by a string. He always felt like this with her, compelled by her magnetism, and he didn’t know whether the conversation was over or not, but he leaned in and started kissing her before they could decide. Perfect: no more questions, just her mouth under his and those soft breasts pressed against his chest. He tangled a hand in her hair and kissed her, her body shifting against him, pressed between him and the door. He didn’t need to examine his feelings right now when he could just examine her.

Hannah held his face between both hands and drew back to look him in the eyes. She pursed her lips in a pout. “Are you kissing me so I’ll stop asking you about your feelings?”

“Definitely.”

She laughed. “I figured.”

Something about this wasn’t sitting right, though. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

Mitchell walked away from her, hands in his pockets, contemplating. “You have some pretty strong advice for me and Ben. But here you are, perfectly content to play this middle-of-the-road game. You say Ben and I could be serious without giving up all other relationships, but then you tell me you want to keep things at a friendship level between the three of us. Why?”

Hannah blanched. Her smile faded, and she looked away. “That’s more complicated.”

“Try me.” He leaned against the door.

Hannah bit her lip. She might not answer. This confessional thing was still new between them, and she might balk at the intimacy. Finally, she sighed. “If things don’t work out between you and Ben, you’ve got a solid friendship at the root of it. You’re business partners. That’s not going to change, even though I know you think it might. You’ll keep working together, you’ll keep being friends.” She wandered away from him a step, running her fingertip down the handle of a flogger. “But let’s say I go for this, all the way, and it doesn’t work out. You two have each other, and I don’t have anyone. Just another big reminder of where I fell short.”

“Don’t say that.” Mitchell walked up to her, wanting to comfort her, not wanting to overstep his bounds. He put a hand lightly on her shoulder, and she turned to face him, her expression serious, hazel eyes looking large and vulnerable in the light.

“It’s terrifying,” she said.

He brushed his thumb back and forth against her shoulder in a gentle caress. “Sure it is. It’s terrifying for me, too. The only person who doesn’t seem to be afraid is Ben, but that’s because he doesn’t care about ever falling in love again.” Mitchell snorted.

“That’s bullshit, isn’t it?” She wrapped her arms around his waist.

Mitchell wasn’t stupid. If they were both feeling afraid, Ben probably was, too. “Yeah. It’s probably bullshit.” He gave her a half smile. “You think maybe we should all be brave together? Actually…let ourselves care?”

Hannah clapped a hand to her heart. “The horror!” Her smile, though, was gentle. “Maybe we should talk about it more.”

Even this honesty felt good, if risky. “Nothing until after the festival, though. All right?”

She nodded. “Definitely. Now. I’ll see you tomorrow night at setup?”

“I’ll be there.”

…

“Oh shit! I didn’t know you’d be already setting up! I’d have come by earlier.”

Hannah’s exclamation made Ben turn from where he was hanging the last curtained panel of their sex-toy labyrinth. “They let me in to start hanging panels early, since nobody’s using this site.”

Hannah set down the two large metal cases she was carrying. “I’ve got more of these in the car.”

Over in the parking area for vendors, Ben let out a low whistle. “Fuck yeah, you do.” In addition to five more cases, she had several large boxes and a collection of small fold-up tables.

“I brought a hand truck.” She unfolded the device from the trunk.

“You bring enough stuff?”

She put her hands on her hips. “I wanted to make sure I had enough. I can’t sell product I don’t have, Benjamin.”

Ben grinned. “Benjamin? You getting all mom voice on me? Because let me tell you, I grew up with two of them, and this is so not my kink.”

Hannah smiled back. “You want to help me move this shit, or you just going to pick on me all day?”

“How about I do both?”

“How about I drag Mitchell over here and he can show off how much stronger he is than you?”

“Ouch, okay.” Ben put his hand over his heart. “You wound me.”

“I’m vicious. Where is he, anyway?” Hannah looked around as if Mitchell would suddenly show up in the parking lot.

“He’s still working the food booth. He should be along after cleanup.” Ben started to load up the hand truck.

Two trips later, all Hannah’s stuff was finally unloaded at the booth, and soon toys covered every surface of their tables. “Now.” Ben surveyed everything, hands on hips. “Tell me what you’ve got in mind.”

Hannah grabbed a rolled-up piece of paper from one of the tables and unfurled it.

“You made a treasure map?” Ben stepped closer to read over her shoulder, and she rolled her eyes at him.

“It’s a map.”

It was a hell of a map, actually. She had drawn the entire labyrinth and labeled stations along the way, showing which toys went at which place. “I made informational cards for every spot, too. And then there’ll be a quiz at the end.”

Ben listened as she explained, nodding, but mostly just watching her work. She was really beautiful, both for her physical attractiveness and her sexy depth of knowledge. Smart and gorgeous made an enticing package.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes.” He tried not to sound defensive, but she responded with a raised eyebrow. “And I’m also checking you out.”

She rolled her eyes, but her small smile said she didn’t really mind. “How’d the labyrinth turn out?”

“Good, I think.” He explained the layout. He’d set things up so people would turn back and forth a few times before ending up here in the main booth. From where they would be sitting, they could see the entrance to the maze and keep an eye on people as they entered. Didn’t want anyone making off with all the sex toys or something.

Setup took a little while, and he had just finished setting out the final information cards in the maze when Mitchell’s voice echoed from out of sight, addressing Hannah. “Hey. Sorry I’m late. Cleanup took forever.”

Ben peered over to where Mitchell and Hannah were standing together in the main booth. Hannah moved away from the table display she was setting up, heading into Mitchell’s arms with a smile. Watching them together stirred some affection in Ben, that latent desire for the kind of intimacy he used to have, the kind he had told himself wasn’t worth the risk. When he had invited her to spend the night the other night, he had hoped she would say yes.

Mitchell and Hannah both turned in unison to look at him over the top of the hanging curtains. Mitchell gave him a classic “what the fuck are you doing?” face. “We can see you, you know. You’re a fucking giant.”

Ben laughed, weaving his way out of the labyrinth. “I forget sometimes.”

“Yeah, right.” Mitchell hoisted a paper bag he’d set down near Hannah’s table. “I brought dinner. Thought you guys would be hungry.”

With the sun slipping away, the space was quickly growing cold, and Hannah pulled on a large brown sweater over the layers she was already wearing. It looked supremely touchable, especially over her soft curves. Right, he was staring again. He helped Mitchell spread out a blanket he’d brought and gave him some shit about it.

“What?” Mitchell sounded defensive. “I thought it would be nice. Like a picnic.”

“It is nice.” Hannah touched Mitchell’s arm. “You.” She made eye contact with Ben. “Stop picking on him.”

“He can take it. Mitchell is not a precious angel.”

“I am a precious angel.” Mitchell straightened and tipped his chin up.

“Fuck off.” Laughing, Ben started pulling containers of food out of the bag.

They sat together on a blanket at the end of a labyrinth of sex toys as the sky above them turned to twilight. Eventually, it got too dark to see and Mitchell turned on the hanging lights they had set up for the purpose. These strings of Edison bulbs and twinkle lights were atmospheric, but also bright enough to read by, dozens of them wending through the labyrinth and filling the main booth. In the warm amber light, Ben shared time between eating a plate of chicken and watching Hannah and Mitchell. This, the three of them together on a blanket under hanging lights, it felt…nice. Better than nice. Without much of a stretch, he could imagine this scenario again: at a beach, camping in the woods, or maybe just in their living room after dinner. The thought made something warm settle on him like a blanket.

“The fuck is up with you?” Hannah elbowed him, bringing him out of his reverie. “You’re just staring at us all googly eyed.”

Ben shook his head. “Sorry. Just thinking.” Yeah, and he was thinking in dangerous directions. He didn’t want to want these things. He had done love once, had learned that forever wasn’t always forever and the fallout could be catastrophic. But he couldn’t help the hope blossoming in his breast. Maybe, with the three of them, this could be different.

When eight o’clock rolled around, Ben gave a final sweep of the area. Everything was lit, chairs were set up nearby, and thanks to the patio heaters they’d borrowed, the space felt warm and cozy. Hannah still wore that big fuzzy oversize sweater, the one he kept wanting to touch, and it distracted him until guests started making their way to the start of the labyrinth.

The first few visitors to the booth wandered out a few minutes later, laughing and talking about what they had seen. A bearded guy in flannel held the hand of a woman in a giant woolen peacoat that dwarfed her small frame, and despite the cold, they were smiling and chatting. This was a good sign.

“We have the answers!” The man held his fist aloft. “Where is the quiz? We want to win everything.”

“Everything?” Ben leaned on the counter and faked horror. “But what about everyone else?”

“Fuck them all!” the woman responded, and both of them laughed.

“The entry form is in the corner. Ten right answers gets you a raffle ticket.” Ben pointed to where Hannah was set up at her minishop, the pop-up mobile sexporium she had pulled together close to one of the heaters. “All the product is courtesy of Yes, Please, and Hannah is the owner. She’ll get you started.”

“How’s it going?” Mitchell sidled up to him, and Ben jumped.

“Shit, you snuck up on me.” Ben nodded to where Hannah was working. “Seems all right.” A couple more people were looking around, confused. “Raffle entries are over there, folks.” He pointed. “We should have made more signs.”

“I can make signs.” Mitchell nodded like he’d been given a solemn task.

“I thought you were gonna help me sell beer?”

“You don’t need me for that.”

He was right; Ben didn’t need him for that. “I’d like you to help anyway, though.”

Mitchell smiled, open and warm. “You just can’t bear to be away from me, can you?”

Ben made a gagging noise. “Don’t read into this, you big sap.”

Mitchell still grinned, and Ben squeezed his hand. There was that tenderness again, the one he didn’t want to acknowledge, the one that told him maybe it would be okay to hold Mitchell’s hand every once in a while.

“Jesus, look at her go.” Mitchell was watching Hannah again as more people went over to talk to her and enter the raffle, several of them picking out items to purchase. “Never would’ve known there was that much of a market for sex toys in Mapleton.”

“She’s been keeping it up this long, so there must be.” It couldn’t be easy, though. When they’d started the restaurant, they’d faced so many pressures, and their business wasn’t even controversial.

Mitchell leaned on the high counter they had set up, which for Ben was not a high counter at all. “How many shops have opened and closed downtown? It’s tough out there.”

“We got lucky, I guess.” They had spent enough nights up late worrying about every penny of outgo. Those days were gone.

“Not lucky in business, but lucky to have good guidance.” Mitchell’s expression was serious, distant as he presumably thought back. “I guess she doesn’t need our help.”

“No, she doesn’t. She’s independent, Mitchell. Stop trying to save her when she doesn’t even need saving.”

Mitchell’s expression flashed with annoyance, his lips tightening as he glanced over at Ben. He didn’t argue, though. Good. He had to know this was one of his most common flaws. Always wanting to save people, even when people needed to figure things out on their own.

“Hey, why don’t you go back through the maze and see how people are doing?” Ben nudged him toward the labyrinth entrance. “Make sure nobody’s stealing display model sex toys. Or using them.”

Mitchell blanched. “Oh god.” He headed toward the entrance without another word, caught up in that horrible thought.

Ben hadn’t set any sample beers out yet, just a table topper that announced beer tastings at nine, so he had no real reason to stay by the counter. He meandered over to Hannah, hoping to look as casual as a six-foot-five guy could look in a space like this. She was deep in conversation with someone about one of the sex toys. Damn, it was hot watching her wield it, holding it expertly in her hands as she explained things he couldn’t really hear from where he was standing. He moved over, ready to listen, and a guy stepped between them. “Hey! Is there beer?”

“Not yet, man. Beer starts at nine. Check out some sex toys?” Ben pointed him off to the minishop, and the guy went. Thank god.

He moved closer to Hannah during a momentary lapse in customers. “You need some help?”

Hannah looked around at the table of toys. “No, I think I’ve got it under control.” Her hair was falling into her eyes, and he reached over to brush it out of her face and over her ear, surprising himself.

Hannah smiled up at him. “Hey, stranger. Looking to buy yourself a sex toy?” Her dimples deepened in her cheeks, and he wanted to cup her face in his hands and kiss her. So he did, stepping in, bending to kiss her smile. Her eyes widened in surprise just before she closed them. The kiss was brief and sweet, and when he stepped back, her eyes were filled with tenderness. Too much tenderness, and he stepped back. This was public. They weren’t public, not yet, not together.

“I, uh, sent Mitchell into the sex-toy maze. You think he’ll come back out anytime soon, or will he be lost forever?” Ben peered into the maze, but he couldn’t see Mitchell’s short blond hair over the edges of the hanging curtains.

“He’s gone forever. I’m going to have to send in a search party.” Hannah turned to greet a young woman who had just come up to the table with a bottle of lube, and Ben watched the encounter with an ever-growing softness in his heart.

Well, fuck.

He went back to manning his counter until nine o’clock finally rolled around.

“All right, folks! Pull up your chairs, your blankets, your freezing-cold bits of ground.” Ben raised his arms to beckon everyone closer. Mitchell scanned the perimeter of the tent area, walking around and watching for stragglers he could shoo inside. What was this, twenty people? Thirty? More if he counted the ones in the back. Shoot, this was a good turnout.

Ben rubbed his hands together. On one side, Hannah was set up with one of her tables and a selection of sex toys. On his other side, Mitchell stood behind the counter, leaning on one elbow and grinning at both of them. Here between them, Ben felt right at home. “This is the moment you’ve all been waiting for! I don’t know if you’ve ever had this problem, folks, but I can’t ever seem to figure out what beers go with my wide and varied collection of sex toys.”

The room tittered, folks relaxing at Ben’s joke, and he pressed on with more. “Plus, the opposite problem is true! When I really like a beer, and I want something fun to match it with, I just can’t tell what’s a good pairing. Can you match vibrators with wheat beers? Do they clash? I don’t know.” He turned to Hannah. “Fortunately, I’ve got Hannah here, of Yes Please, the toy store we all know and love right here on Main Street. Hannah?”

“Thanks, Ben!” She flashed her winning smile and dimples at the audience. “I don’t know if you’ve ever tried pairing beer and sex toys, but we have put together a tasting menu of sorts for you. Only, please taste the beer and not the sex toys.”

The audience laughed, taking the sheets of paper Mitchell was passing around. He moved smoothly through the crowd, making a few quiet jokes that Ben couldn’t hear, but people chuckled in response.

“So.” He turned to Hannah. “You’ve got a hell of a something blue right there.”

Hannah held up the small vibrator that fit in the palm of her hand, shaped sort of like a leaf, and began to describe it to the audience, explaining a bit about the type of vibrations, their intensity, and how people might use it. Then she turned back to Ben.

“So what beer goes with this one?”

Ben held up a bottle labeled with a river flowing through a mountain pass. “Well, we pride that company on their fine German engineering, so we had to go with a German-inspired beer. High quality, sharp and refreshing, just like you want from your sex toys as well.” He motioned Mitchell to come up, and Mitchell did. “Now, folks, if you’d like to try the German beer and feel this vibe, go ahead and line up. We’ll have two tables going at once.”

Folks shifted, moving to the front of the room, and Ben started filling tiny cups as Mitchell took over giving out the samples. Mitchell slid into that role easily, confident in the product and in his one-on-one banter. As he and Hannah talked to people, he handed them tiny cups filled with their German beer until everyone had had some and held the vibe. Then Ben stepped up for the next pairing, and both Hannah and Mitchell moved smoothly back into their places.

They moved efficiently through the list of five pairings, sharing tasting samples of all the beers, making small talk, demonstrating how the vibrators turned on and cycled through their settings. The focus shifted swiftly to sales, with both vibrators and six-packs flying off the shelves as the evening wore on.

The next game, sex toy or kitchen gadget, was an equally big hit. Mitchell, with his deadpan delivery, was a hoot. When Mitchell held up a spiky Wartenberg wheel and asked Hannah if she thought it could double for sealing ravioli, Ben almost pissed himself. People laughed, they asked questions, they bought toys. By the time the evening came to a close, no one would doubt that the night had been a huge success.

They had just finished loading the last of the boxes into Hannah’s trunk, and Ben opened his mouth to suggest going out to get a drink, when Mitchell let out a monumental sigh.

“I am exhausted.” Mitchell slammed Hannah’s car trunk closed and leaned against it. “What a night, right?”

Hannah slid up against him and elbowed him. “Come on. The night is young. It’s only…” She checked her phone. “Twelve thirty. Bars don’t close until two. Let’s go get a drink.” Awesome. Woman after his own heart.

Mitchell made a face. “I was up at six.”

“You don’t have to get up at six tomorrow, though.” Ben could be the voice of reason here. Mitchell needed to get some social time with them. “One drink wouldn’t hurt.”

“Except it’s not going to be one drink, it’ll be two or three or four drinks, and then I’ll be up all night.” Mitchell folded his arms. “You two will have more fun without me, anyway.”

“Bullshit.” Ben gave him a light shove. “It’s not the same without you. Right, Hannah?”

“He’s right.” Hannah took his arm. “You don’t seem to believe us when we say we want you around. I’m developing a complex about it.”

Mitchell made a great show of rolling his eyes. “Okay, fine, fine. One drink. Tell me where we’re going.”

“Want to come unload product with me first?” Hannah batted her eyes up at him. “Then the Night Owl?”

Mitchell sighed, but he was also starting to smile. “I think you only want me for my ability to lift heavy things.”

“Maybe.”

“Fine. Let’s go.”

…

With Hannah safely in her cab, Ben and Mitchell walked home, the streets silent now that it was after two in the morning. Their breath fogged in the cold night air, but with his steady buzz, he didn’t feel as cold as he had earlier. They turned down their street, right on the edge of town.

“This is never gonna work.” Mitchell spoke aloud into the silence, his hands thrust in the pockets of his coat. He glanced over at Ben. “Right?”

“What?” Mitchell could be talking about anything.

“All of it.” Mitchell took a hand out of his pocket to wave his arm. “Us and Hannah. One of us is gonna fuck it up. Probably me.”

“So don’t fuck it up.”

Mitchell sighed. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this shit. Feelings? Romance? I don’t know.”

“Hey, who’s talking about feelings and romance?” Ben tried to laugh, nudging Mitchell with his elbow. Mitchell stumbled, and Ben reached out to steady him as they turned onto their front walkway. “Yikes. You’re pretty far gone.”

“A little bit.” Mitchell grinned. “I don’t drink much, you know.”

“I know.”

Mitchell squinted up at him. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Ben froze, his heart stuttering in his chest. Mitchell was staring up at him like his statement was the most interesting puzzle, like maybe Ben could help him figure it out. All Ben could manage was “Oh,” a totally inadequate answer. Maybe Mitchell would be too drunk to remember he said this.

“Come on. Let’s get inside. It’s cold out here.” The cold had to be the reason for Ben’s hands to shake so profoundly as he tried to fit the house key in the lock, finally managing on the third try.

Mitchell didn’t ask anything else of him, walking past him into the living room. “Fuck the gym tomorrow,” he said, disappearing into his room and shutting the door behind him.

Ben’s soberness came suddenly, like someone had dunked him in an ice bath. Mitchell wouldn’t remember this in the morning, surely. And even if he did, he probably wouldn’t bring it up again. This was their rule: they didn’t let feelings get involved. They were friends, they fucked, and they didn’t make a big deal out of it. But Mitchell, dropping a fucking L-bomb on their front steps in the middle of the night? That was completely uncalled-for.

Whatever had happened these past few weeks with Hannah had clearly changed things, and breathless panic settled on him. Normally he could will those feelings away, but tonight they hung on. If he and Mitchell crossed this path, they weren’t going back. Shit, Mitchell was his bedrock. And now he was trying to change their deal? That was unfair, and it was terrifying, and it was both of those things precisely because he wanted it so fucking badly.

He wanted all of it. He wanted Mitchell and Hannah, both of them, and he wanted love, and great sex, and stability, and two people to come home to. He wanted it so badly that he ached for it, and the depth of his own need took his breath away. If this was love, it was different than the love he had before, and he didn’t know how to process it.

Unsettled, shaken, and feeling suddenly alone, Ben forced himself to go to bed. It would probably take him a long time to fall asleep.

…

Hannah was still pretty tipsy in the cab, but by the time she got into the house and took a shower, she had sobered up enough to look at her numbers. No way she could go to bed without knowing. The alcohol was wearing off, but the euphoria of a great evening stayed in her system. She had sold so much product. This had to be enough to cover her losses and tip her over into the black.

Finally in pajamas, she pulled out her computer and sat down at the kitchen table, tossing aside today’s mail that she’d just brought in. She opened up the programs she used to track her sales, watching them populate with tonight’s figures, her spreadsheet automatically filling in where necessary. While it did so, she grabbed a cup of water to try to stave off tomorrow’s hangover. This felt good. Relaxing. Life was finally on the upswing. She flopped back into her kitchen chair again and scrolled down to her final results.

Well, fuck. That was a damn good night. And if she kept up her steady sales, she could pull herself out of this hole by the end of the year.

She punched the air, even though there wasn’t anybody around to see her, grinning about business for what felt like the first time in a while. She was feeling so good, she could open all the mail now rather than procrastinating about it. Bills, always bills, and in the bottom of the stack, a thick letter from the owner of the building where she rented space.

She stared at it. This was going to be her lease renewal. With fumbling fingers and an increasing sense of dread, she tore it open and pulled out the contract.

Just a few lines in, her heart stuttered in her chest. The language was formal, professional, all this “due to increasing interest rates and economic circumstances beyond our control,” blah, blah, blah—bottom line was they were raising her rent again.

All Hannah’s positivity evaporated with whatever residual buzz she’d still had from the bar. Shit. Fucking shit. Goddamned motherfucking shit. She wasn’t going to be able to break even at these new rates. Even with this boost in sales pulling her out of the hole, she was just going to turn a profit with the old rent, not to mention this new rent. Even though she knew what the results would be, she scrabbled for a scrap piece of paper and found a torn-open envelope, then started putting down the numbers by hand, adding them up like she might somehow do it better than the computer. The proof stared her right in the face. Jesus. If she signed this new lease, with the rent change taking effect on the first of the year, she was going to be out of business by March.

She was going to have to move, and she couldn’t even do that. She looked at the rental listings all the time, and every place in town was out of her price range, except for one spot owned by the church, which had emphatically turned her down when she’d inquired about a leasing opportunity last year. Her pleasant feeling was gone, replaced by something sick and sour in her stomach. Christ. How was she going to make ends meet?

The hot press of tears in her eyes made her angry. What the fuck was she doing crying? Crying was absolute shit. She swiped the tears from her eyes. Okay. So she needed a next step. She had to have a next step. She always did this independently, and she could do that now. After a few mediocre attempts to deep breathe her way into calmness, she finally gave in and let the tears come. How could she be so stupid? Most businesses failed. She knew that when she applied for the loan to rent Yes, Please in the first place. She’d told herself that she was smart; she took business classes, read everything she could find, launched into this endeavor with both feet firmly on the ground. She was a person who got things done. Now, though, she was a mess. She was going to lose her business and do what? Get a job somewhere? What could she do? She had worked a string of shit jobs, and nothing suited her. She loved running her own business, but apparently she sucked at that, too. Maybe the only thing she was actually good at was fucking. God, how pathetic. Everyone who had doubted her, everyone who had told her not to get her hopes up, they seemed to gather in the empty space around her like ghosts. At the center of it all, her own self-doubt, her self-loathing, that tiny voice inside her reminding her that she’d never done anything worthwhile in her life.

Hannah put her head down and gave in to the self-pity for a few minutes of horrible, racking sobs, the kind that burned her face and left her feeling sore and swollen all over. They subsided eventually, leaving her with sniffles and a wrung-out feeling of exhaustion. Fuck this. She had to move forward in some way. Maybe she’d look at this again in the morning and somehow things would be better.

Yeah, right.