Influenced by Eva Robinson (love story books to read .TXT) 📕

“Most of those rumors weren’t even true.” Rowan sighed. “I never had a threesome. It seems like it would be complicated. And that porn video, by the way, was not me. She didn’t even look like me.”

Hannah winced. “I didn’t even know about that one. God, I’m glad high school is over.” Hannah dropped the pitted peaches into the blender. She pressed the button, blending the peaches into puree. When they’d been blended completely, she poured the puree into champagne flutes.

Rowan cocked her head. “You were there when Tom fell off the bridge, weren’t you?”

“Not that close,” Hannah said quickly, her heart racing. She lifted the champagne bottle and filled the glasses the rest of the way. “I just saw it from a distance. I really shouldn’t have brought it up.” Hannah lifted her wine glass, and Rowan did the same. “Let’s toast to not being in high school anymore.”

Rowan smiled. “Absolutely.” She took a long sip, closing her eyes. “This is freaking amazing. You are a genius, Hannah.” She slid a plate across the marble countertop—two crispy fried balls covered in a glaze, and dollops of what looked like creamy mozzarella with pistachios.

Hannah’s stomach rumbled, and she picked up one of the little spheres with her fingers and bit into it. Crispy on the outside, with melted cheese and rice on the inside, a hint of mushrooms, and a subtle honey glaze… Heaven.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” said Hannah. She took another sip of the sweet, fruity cocktail. Rowan really did know how to enjoy life.

“I’m obsessed with this restaurant. And now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve eaten all day until now.”

“Why not?”

Rowan blew out a long breath. “I was thinking about Arabella, and I have no idea what happened to her. It’s just so sad, and I don’t understand it. The police want to talk to me tomorrow, but I have no idea why. I mean, I wonder if they think she was murdered. No one knows why she died. Or, at least, nobody I know seems to have any idea.”

A chill rippled up Hannah’s neck. “Did you talk to her before she died?”

“No, not for weeks. We didn’t really talk that much in general. I’d only hung out with her a few times, mostly because… well, she fit in well with my photos, and she had some ideas for captions. When she died, I sort of assumed suicide, maybe, because it’s usually depression or drugs when the obituaries don’t specify. But it’s just horrible, isn’t it? I can’t even imagine what would go through someone’s mind…” Rowan trailed off. “You know what? You have one night off from your kid, so I’m not going to talk about this.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“I need to take a break from it. My mind keeps racing. I need to stop thinking about death. We are still alive, and we should be seizing the moment or whatever.”

Hannah lifted her champagne flute. “Okay. To life, then.”

“To life.”

At last, Hannah was starting to feel a little more relaxed.

“Do you know what I really want to do?” said Rowan. “I really want to go to a music festival in Denmark. Have you ever been to Denmark?”

“No. I’ve hardly left the U.S. I’ve only been to Canada.”

“Well, you should come with me. You can leave your daughter with her dad, right? We can get some costumes; you can mix some drinks. Just for a week. I can’t deal with tents, but we can get a nice camper van.”

Hannah couldn’t picture herself at a music festival at this point. After two years of sleep interruptions, the idea of willingly signing up to stay awake sounded painful. And yet… she’d become boring, hadn’t she? And that was like an early death. She’d come here wanting to get out of her rut; maybe this was her chance. “I mean, it sounds fun… tiring, but fun.”

“Okay, well, we could do something more sedate. A French museum and restaurant tour? Something mature, since we’re nearly thirty.”

Hannah grinned. “If I can sleep late in the mornings, with no child waking me up, and just read a newspaper over pastries and coffee, my life would be complete for a week.” Now that sounded amazing. “I mean, I’d have to save up for a while.”

Rowan waved a dismissive hand. “I can pay for it. I mean, it’s just plane tickets, and we could share a hotel room. I’m so bored of Boston right now that it would be worth it. I feel like in Boston everyone’s idea of a good time is getting up at five a.m. to jog. Or tailgating parties.”

“It’s either that or trading fun facts about the Red Sox.”

“Accurate.” Rowan drained her glass, then leaned down over her computer. “One more song. This one’s called ‘Salzburg,’ and it’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Hannah finished up the last of her delicious food, swiping the burrata through a dollop of honey while melodic music floated through the air. With the twinkling fairy lights in Rowan’s apartment, Hannah already felt like she had been transported somewhere else. She didn’t need to leave Boston. She could just come here.

Rowan smiled, her dark eyes lighting up. “Okay, before we go, we’ll try the bellinis with gin. And didn’t you say you wanted to update your look?”

“Did I?”

“Oh, maybe I misunderstood. I thought you said something about not wanting to look like a mom.” She cocked her head, smiling. “It’s just that you’re so beautiful, and you deserve clothes that are just as beautiful as you are.”

Second time tonight Hannah had been told—in the nicest way—that she looked like crap. “Well, I wouldn’t object to a makeover.” Already, the bellini had started going to her head. “You know what? I definitely want a makeover. I’m not feeling great about myself. I haven’t been on a date in… Well, not since before I had Nora.”

“Do you have a particular guy in mind?”

She felt lightheaded from the champagne and