Hank was different. On paper, he was not her type. On paper, she wouldn’t give a tattooed construction worker the time of day.
But Hank made her think. He opened up a new world, and not something superficial like the names of constellations. Hank was interesting. Thoughtful. And that stuff about Thoreau? He also was smart. For the first time, Erin’s eyes were open. Smart people could make their lives about something other than academics and advanced degrees. That was the real surprise.
Looking at the whole life thing, Hank was far wiser than she. Or, at the very least, he had gotten there sooner. He saw through her. He saw into her, to parts of herself she was only starting to understand. She wanted more of that.
Always ask for what you want and always do what makes you happy.
She wanted Hank. She liked who she was when she was with him. More than that, he had helped her figure out what happy meant. For her.
Before she could change her mind, she pulled out her phone.
Erin: If you’re not too far away, can you come back to my house?
Hank: No worries.
She sat on the front stoop for a thousand years before walking to the end of the driveway. No headlights. She paced between number 33 and number 37. She couldn’t go inside yet, because if he came back, she’d have to explain the whole thing to Felicity. She needed him to come back before she went inside.
She’d wait forever.
She didn’t need to. He pulled in, with half his truck hanging in the sidewalk, and rolled down his window.
That beautiful, crooked grin under chocolate eyes. “Forget something?”
She stuck her head inside his truck and kissed him. Firmly.
He didn’t kiss back.
“Oh my god.” Wide-eyed, Erin bit her lip. “Oh my god. I am so sorry. Good night.”
Erin ran up the driveway, her shadow shrinking on the front door. She kicked off her shoes outside and slipped into the house. Pippa crafted something on the dining room table as Felicity made tea.
“Hi, Erin! How was rock climbing? Are you hurting?”
Erin burst into tears. “Not feeling well.” She ran to her room, hurting badly. She felt like the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.
Someone knocked on her door.
“I’ll be fine in the morning, Felicity.”
More knocking.
“I already had tea!”
The knob turned. Get the point. Seriously.
“Erin?”
Hank opened the door a crack.
Groaning, she buried her face in her hands. “I’m fine, I promise. I’m fine. I’m sorry. Just. Forget it ever happened. Please.”
He slipped inside, turned on the light, and closed the door behind him.
Hugging her knees, Erin grabbed her pillow to cover her wet nose and face. “Really, I’m fine. I’m sorry. It will never happen again.”
Gently, Hank pulled the pillow down from her face.
She hated excuses and easy letdowns and whatever else he was going to say.
But she loved his stupid jagged smile.
Oh my god, stop smiling.
Hank sat too close to her on the bed, his scent—a mix of chalk and mint—swelled in the tiny room. “Mulligan?”
He kissed her softly, then intensely, running his fingers over her back and up through her hair.
In some spaces of life, being intense was just fine.
Better than fine. Perfect.
“Pippa!” Felicity’s voice outside the door stunned them. “Give them some time alone. They’ll come out when they’re ready.”
Erin and Hank shared a glance before pressing their lips together again.
An hour later, they came up for air.
“So, when you called me back here, I put a wad of gum in my mouth. I know you and bad breath,” Hank said. “Or I thought I knew you. I knew we’d be talking close but wasn’t anticipating the kissing.”
Mmmmm. “You should anticipate kissing.”
“Sweet as.”
He kissed her again. He kissed her for a long time.
A rap on the door pushed them apart again. “Erin? It’s Pippa’s bedtime, love.”
Erin scooted a foot away from Hank. “Come in. I’ll walk Hank out.”
Erin and Hank walked past Felicity and Pippa. As they entered the living area, Erin heard Pippa say, “Ooooooh. Does she like him?”
Erin walked Hank to his car. “I like this thing. Asking for what you want.”
“You didn’t so much ask as take it. Though I have no complaints. See you soon?”
“See you soon.”
She pushed him up against the car, kissing him hard on the mouth again. Thank goodness for tall fences.
“You keep surprising me, Erin,” he said.
“I could say the same for you.”
“Maybe we’ll surprise each other again tomorrow.”
“After tea.”
“After tea, before tea. Both, I don’t care.”
“See you then.”
Hank kissed her again, quieter this time. He sucked at good-byes and sometimes was flighty, but he was very good at a lot of very important things.
Erin lingered outside long past Pippa’s bedtime. Before Erin crawled into bed, because nothing ever felt real until she told Lalitha, she texted her the news.
Erin: I think Hank and I are going to be a thing.
Erin: And I initiated it!
SIXTY-TWO
At tea Monday night, Pippa pushed her food around her plate, completely disengaged from the conversation.
Felicity said, “She’s caught wind that Ashley is having a birthday party and she wasn’t one of the few invited.”
“I thought Ashley was your best friend,” Erin said.
Pippa was quiet. “She is. I guess I’m not hers.”
That distinction was painful at any age.
Erin said, “When is this birthday party?”
“Saturday, from eleven to three at Ashley’s house.” Pippa propped her head with her hand while eviscerating her peas with a fork.
Erin said, “And all your friends will be there.”
Pippa sunk lower in her chair.
“If all your friends are busy, let’s have a sisters day. And I can have you all to myself.”
Pippa stared at her. “To do what?”
“I dunno. You tell me.”
They negotiated over dinner, and by the time they started homework at the dining room table, they had a plan: swim at Pioneer Pool and have lunch at a
