“Why not?” I ask.
“Cyrus seems like the kind of guy to only have one-night stands,” she reasons. “We’ll see.” She turns her attention to her B.L.T., signaling that she’s done talking about this.
“I’m moving,” I announce, further changing the subject.
“Wait, what?” Casey asks, a piece of lettuce stuck to her lip. “When did you decide this?”
“A few days ago.” I shrug.
“You’re moving and you haven’t even seen my new place.” Hannah gives me a look.
“I know, I’m so sorry. I’ve been … Well, you know how I’ve been.” I give her a sympathetic smile. “How about I come over Friday evening? We could all have a girls’ night if that’s okay with you?”
Hannah nods and bites into a fry. “Yeah, that’s fine with me.”
“I’m in.” Chloe raises her hand.
“Me too,” Casey chimes.
“Good.” I nod. “It’ll be fun to all hang out somewhere besides here.” I laugh, looking around at the café.
“There’s actually an upper-level apartment available in my building,” Hannah says. “I’m pretty sure it’s the whole top floor so it’s bigger than mine. You’d probably have a separate room for you and the baby.”
“Oh, really?” My eyes light. “That might be perfect. I don’t know about walking all the way to a top floor, but you do what you have to do, I guess.”
“It’s a small building so it’s the third floor that’s available.”
“That’s not too bad.” I shrug and take a bite of my sandwich. “So far I haven’t found much of anything. It’s either too expensive or too small.” I sigh.
“When’s your house going up for sale?” Casey asks.
I wince. This news still bothers me. I know it was my idea, and it’s truly what’s best, but it’s hard to let go.
“Probably Thursday or Friday. The realtor was talking about doing an open house this weekend. She’s already come by and taken photos.”
Things are moving fast, too fast, but I knew it had to be that way. The sooner I could sell the house, the better. But that didn’t make it any easier to accept.
“Wow,” Casey says, looking at me with worry. “I’m sorry, Blaire.”
I know what she’s thinking. Poor Blaire. First she loses Ben and then she loses her house. What’s next?
My hand falls protectively to the swell of my stomach.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m okay,” I add, and for the first time in nearly seven months, I’m not lying.
I leave Group Friday evening and head straight to Hannah’s apartment. It’s in the center of Old Town as it’s affectionately called. Old Town is filled with older buildings dating back to the town’s founding. Most have been renovated, but they managed to keep the vintage style of the buildings by keeping the exteriors true to their original charm.
I park on the side street and head to the front and inside. There’s no buzzer or anything like that. I know Hannah is on the second floor, and if I remember correctly, she said she was the first door on the left.
I knock and wait patiently for her to open the door. The hallway is dark with only one lone light. There are doors for two apartments on the other side of the hall and the one beside Hannah’s that belongs to Cyrus.
I look around and find that the floors are surprisingly clean and the walls look freshly painted.
The door in front of me swings open and Hannah stands there in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top damp with sweat. Her strawberry blond hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail and she looks ready to pass out.
“Um,” I hesitate. “Should I come back? Is Cyrus here?” I whisper-hiss the last part.
Her brows furrow in confusion and then her eyes light in understand. “Oh, God no, my air conditioner broke.” She waves me inside. “And of course it’s hot as hell today.” She fans herself with her shirt, and I get an eyeful of her lacy pale pink bra.
“Casey and Chloe aren’t here yet?” I ask unnecessarily. The place is small enough that I can see everything from where I stand. It’s cute, though. The wall with windows is exposed brick and the rest of the walls are white. Her couch is a light gray color and mismatched rugs add color to the wood floors. The kitchen is barely big enough for one person but it’s clean with new black cabinets and shiny white countertops. It’s a studio apartment so her bedroom can be seen from here. Her headboard is a tufted gray fabric that matches the couch and her bedding is white. It’s currently rumpled—but as much as I’d like to think it’s because Cyrus was here I know Hannah hates making her bed.
“Casey says she’s running late from work and Chloe’s picking up the Chinese. Do you want anything to drink?” Hannah asks, opening the refrigerator door.
“Water.” I kick off my shoes and sit down on the couch. The TV is on and I laugh. “Family Feud?”