Just when Fox thought his stomach couldn’t knot any tighter, it twisted into a pretzel. She’d already made plans. She’d made plans that would make it easier for them to be together. With Hannah standing in front of him, so familiar and sweet and soft, the word “plans” didn’t sound quite as daunting. It was when they were apart that he started to doubt his ability to execute any kind of plan. It was the doubt of others that shook him.
The leather cuff around his wrist turned into molten metal, branding his skin.
“Oh. No,” Hannah rushed to say, her face rapidly turning pink. “I mean, I . . . I’m leaving the production company. But that’s a decision that I made . . . for me. Separate from Fox. Or anything.”
Until that news came out of her mouth, Fox hadn’t truly processed the weight of it. What it meant for her. “You quit your job?”
She nodded. Breathed, “They’re going to use the songs. In the film.”
“Aw, Hannah.” His voice sounded like sandpaper, and he had to rub at the center of his sternum, the rush of feeling there was so intense. “Damn. Damn, that’s amazing. You did it.”
Her eyes sparkled up at him, communicating a million things. Her nerves, her excitement, her pleasure to be sharing the news with him. Fox sucked it down like a glass of cool water placed in front of a thirsty man.
“Yes . . .” Christian swirled his drink lazily, his attention moving back and forth between Hannah and Fox with unabashed interest. “Now she’s off to go discover more new bands and plug them into indie soundtracks. Hannah Bellinger, music broker. She’s going to be too good for me soon.”
She placed a solemn hand on the actor’s shoulder. “I’m already too good for you.”
The guy tossed back his head and laughed.
The caveman part of Fox’s brain relaxed.
There was nothing to be jealous over here. Hannah and Christian were obviously just friends. But there was still a lot to worry about. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Hannah quit her job on the heels of them discussing potential logistics of a relationship, right? Had she made the move in anticipation of them trying?
Despite his worry over that, he wanted to hear more about this new job. Music broker. What did that mean exactly? Would she be traveling a lot? Was it Seattle-based? How excited was she on a scale from one to ten?
“You’ve definitely made a lot of decisions since I left,” he said, keeping his questions to himself. Very soon, they wouldn’t be any of his business.
Hannah studied his face. “Looks like you’ve made a lot of decisions, too.”
“Lord, the undercurrents are a-flowing,” Christian muttered, regarding them. “I’m going to go make fun of the interns. You folks have fun working this out.”
Silence landed hard as soon as they were alone.
His brain repeated the speech he’d practiced on the walk through town. I’m sorry. You are amazing. My best friend. But I can’t ask you to move here. I can’t make this work.
His mouth said, “You look incredible.”
“Thanks.” She forced a smile, a fake one, and he wanted to kiss it right off her mouth. You don’t fake anything with me. “Are you going to break up with me here or somewhere a little more private?”
“Hannah.” Shock made her name sound ravaged, and he tuned his face away, unable to look at her. “Don’t say ‘break up.’ I don’t like how that sounds.”
“Why?”
“It sounds like I’m . . .”
Pushing you away. Severing our connection.
Oh God, he couldn’t do that. Might as well ram an ice pick into his heart.
“Can we mutually agree on this, please?” Fox asked, his lower body coiling tight when someone in the crowd nudged her closer, bringing the tips of her breasts up against his chest. Momentarily, he lost his train of thought. Was she even wearing a bra with that dress?
What had he been saying?
“If we both agree on this”—he swallowed the word “breakup”—“change of status, then we can stay friends. I need to stay friends with you, Hannah.”
“Mmmm.” The hurt she was trying so desperately to hide—chin lifted, gaze unwavering—gutted him slowly. “So when I come to Westport for a visit, we’ll hang out like nothing ever happened. Maybe listen to my Fleetwood Mac album?”
It took him a moment to speak. To form a response. Because what could he say to that? He’d confessed the truth to her at the Sound Garden.