“Hanna’s in the kitchen,” Brody tells me, greeting me at Gabe’s front door as I mount the porch steps. Pretty much all the Wilder gatherings take place at Gabe’s, although now that Brody and Rachel have their new place, we do occasionally gather there.
“I didn’t ask,” I grouse.
He smiles. “I just thought you might want to know.”
“You might want to set your expectations lower. This isn’t going to be some big ol’ happily ever after. Have you seen the video?”
“I saw it,” Brody says, with a shrug. “I’ve seen people kiss their dogs with more passion than she put into that kiss.”
I want him to be right. I want it so bad.
Brody’s eyes are tight on my face. “How many times did you watch it, East?”
I shake my head.
“Three?”
I jerk my thumb upwards.
“Are you a total glutton for punishment?”
“I just—”
I couldn’t make myself stop. I was searching for something, some kind of sign, some kind of proof that this wasn’t what was supposed to be happening. I felt like maybe if I watched it enough times, she’d jerk away. Or her eyes would meet mine in some kind of secret glance.
“Do you still think I should talk to her? Even now that the entire world is shipping them?”
Brody’s gaze drops away from mine.
“You don’t, do you? You think I should let her have this. Damn it.”
“I didn’t say that. You have to trust your gut. Do what you can live with. You know her better than anyone.”
“I know it looked like she was into that kiss, no matter what you think you see.”
“I don’t know, dude. I’m… I’m sorry.”
There’s not much else to say, so the two of us turn and go inside. Brody heads into the living room and I turn toward the kitchen, but before I reach it, I hear Lucy say, “I mean if he wanted the whole world to see that video, I guess he’s definitely interested.”
“Guess so,” Hanna says back, her voice oddly, unusually, buoyant.
I step in. No matter how weird things might be between us, I’ve got an envelope full of flyers we need to split up and distribute.
“Oh, hey, Easton,” Lucy says, as Amanda gives me a sideways hug of greeting. Buck, Lucy and Gabe’s dog, is tucked under Lucy’s fingers, accepting scritches as if they’re his due.
Hanna looks up. Her eyes are cool, disinterested.
“I have—flyers,” I say.
It’s not my most brilliant line.
She takes the envelope from me, opens it, examines the flyers, and nods. “They look fine.”
“I thought I could distribute half, and you could distribute the other half.”
“That works.”
Hanna sets the envelope on a chair. I can feel her not looking at me as hard as I’m not looking at her. “Aren’t you going to ask me how my date went?”
Amanda’s eyes flick from her face to mine.
“I saw the video,” I say. “Looks like it went well.”
“It did. Really well.” She picks up a plate full of food. “I’m going out on the deck. Anyone else?”
“I’ll go,” Lucy says.
That leaves Amanda and me in the kitchen. Amanda looks at Hanna’s retreating back. Then at me. She gives me a quizzical little raise of her eyebrow. “You okay?” she asks quietly.
“Fine.”
“You want to talk about it?”
I shake my head.
“So then, you’ll just let me speculate?”
“You’re the worst,” I tell her. “Can’t a guy just have an off day?”
“Not an off day when you don’t give Hanna a hard time about her date with a guy named Bear. Where is he, by the way? Didn’t anyone invite him?”
“I assumed Hanna would,” I say, which is true, but not the whole truth. I thought about inviting him to join us, and then, somewhat conveniently, forgot.
“I assumed one of you would,” Amanda said, tilting her head.
A cry of rage comes from the deck. “Buck!”
We hurry out to see what’s going on, just as Gabe vaults himself off the deck and chases his dog across the yard, yanking something out of Buck’s jaw. Whatever it is has not fared well.
Gabe holds it aloft, triumphant, and I recognize it. It’s one of the flyers advertising Bear’s next workshop. Buck must have snatched it off the kitchen chair where Hanna set it.
“Whose is this?” Gabe demands.
“I brought a stack of them to give to Hanna,” I say. “We’re a few short on registrations for the later sessions and I wanted to get them up around town sometime in the next few days.”
“Don’t,” Lucy tells Gabe. She turns to us. “He has this obsession.”
“Oh, I know all about his obsession,” I say. “Buck chewed Lucy’s sweatshirt, and Rachel’s dildo—”
This is not as outrageous a thing to say in mixed company as it sounds. Rachel is a sex therapist, and she runs sex toy parties on a regular basis with a focus on helping people with their sexual issues. Buck got hold of a bright purple glitter dildo of hers, and the rest was not so much history as purple glitter barf.
“—and my sweater,” Jessa says.
“—and my shoe,” Mari says.
“Wait, so, what’s the upshot?” Geneva, my mom’s girlfriend, asks.
“The upshot is that when Buck chews something belonging to a Wilder family member’s significant other, that significant other is here to stay. Buck is a prognosticator of Wilder romantic success.”
Geneva squints. “So, like, when Buck had to have surgery because of my sock?”
“I didn’t know about that,” my mom says, reaching for Geneva’s hand.
Lucy closes her eyes. Tight.
“It’s a miracle Buck has survived this long,” Amanda says grimly.
“I mean, so are the flyers yours? East? Because you brought them here. Right? But that doesn’t make any sense.” Gabe is talking to himself. “They would have to be a woman’s. Hanna’s, because you were going to give them to her?”
“Gabe,” Lucy warns, but Gabe is deep into his theory now. You can practically see his thoughts whizzing.
“Or Bear’s!” Gabe says, his face lighting up, his eyes going to Hanna, curious.
She won’t look at him.
Brody’s eyes find mine. Amanda’s, too. Because the flyers, of course, are Bear’s. They were made to advertise Bear’s workshop.
Not that I put any stock in Gabe’s wild hair about Buck predicting true love.
Still, my stomach feels sour and wrong. Because the flyers are clearly Bear’s, and the implication is, clearly, that Buck has picked Bear for Hanna.
“The whole thing is bullshit.”
We all turn to look at Hanna.
Her arms are crossed, her brows lowered, a deep scowl written into her face.
“You really think a dog can predict who’s going to fall in love with anyone? No way. The flyers don’t belong to anyone. The whole thing is stupid.”
She gets up, sets her plate on the bench, and storms off the deck and around the house. I’m on my feet, but before I even reach the steps, a truck engine growls from out front, and then tires skid on gravel as she peels out.
“Easton, maybe not right now—” Brody says, but he’s talking to my back as I round the corner and head for my Jeep.