Page 19 of Perfect Alpha

It can’t be.

You don’t have sex with other people when you love someone else. I certainly haven’t touched anyone since Cade. He’s made sure of that by constantly getting into my head. So why is Hannah’s gaze so steady, and why are her eyes so sure when she finally looks at me?

“Cade goes out of his way to annoy me–” I sputter.

“That’s the equivalent of a guy pulling your pigtails in second grade,” Hannah replies, with a dismissive wave. “He’s a Neanderthal. He doesn’t know any better. Be grateful he hasn’t clubbed you over the head and dragged you back to his cave. Yet.”

Rolling my eyes at the interruption, I continue as though she hasn’t spoken. “He not only broke up with me, he… he…” I pause, blinking away tears that I’m cursing. Only Cade can turn me into an emotional mess. “He wascruel. If there was any hope for us, he destroyed it.”

Memories flood me and I tamp them down into a cramped little box that I store in the back of my brain, only opened on nights when I’m alone in my apartment with a bottle of wine and a bucket of ice cream.

Hannah looks away. She undoubtedly knows more about the worst day of my life than I do. In her role as sister to Cade and best friend to me, she has to toe a delicate line.

She’s never betrayed one of his confidences, even when I’ve begged her to, and I trust implicitly that she’s protected my truths from him, too.

I’m sure he never begged to know one, though. I’m quite certain he doesn’t give a shit about me anymore. But dammit, I want someone to tell me what made Cade flick a switch and stop caring when he used to tell me what he wanted to name our babies.

“Even if he does love me, and that’s an enormous leap, there is absolutely no hope of anything ever happening between us again. So just drop it, okay?” I take a long sip of the house wine Hannah ordered.

At this point, I would gladly drink the boxed variety.

She nods slowly, her eyes full of sympathy and unshed tears. “Okay,” she replies softly. “Also, Duncan called me.”

Choking on wine is such an unglamorous affair that even Aidan looks up from his intense coloring to stare at me. I inadvertently spray Hannah with merlotandindignation.

“What is tonight, the evening of revelations?” I demand. “When did this happen?”

“I was saving up some stuff to tell you in person. Cade being desperately in love with you was first–” she grins at my glare and continues, “Duncan calling me is the second. And then I have one other morsel for you after you digest this bite.”

“You know there are phones,” I sputter. “You could have picked one up and told me all this stuff. I can’t wait three months to hear updates on your life.”

She gives me a pointed look, and I’m immediately chagrined. “Okay. I’m going to be better,” I proactively reassure her. “You guys are visiting me this summer and I’m home for Christmas, but how about Halloween, too? I can come trick or treating.”

“Twick or tweat?” Aidan screams, already honing the unique ability men have to hear only what interests them. “Now?” He pushes the siren on his firetruck while he shrieks, but Hannah’s glare has his chubby hand retreating before he can do it again.

I wince. “Not yet, little man.” Aidan is about to burst into tears and I wrack my brain, not wanting my private conversation with Hannah ruined.

“I’m going to find a New York City firefighter costume for you. I’ll bring it when I come to visit, okay?” I promise. “Can you draw me a picture of how that should look?”

Aidan’s eyes brighten, and he turns his cherubic face to Hannah. “Mama, me firefighterfor Haween.”

“You’re going to be sucha handsome firefighter,” Hannah gushes. “Mama can’t wait to see you in your costume.”

Aidan turns his attention back to his crayons, his little tongue sticking out in concentration as he mutters about what a special picture he’s going to draw.

When the server brings our food, I note Hannah ordered chicken fingers and fries for Aidan, which will require zero negotiation for him to eat. I’d happily trade him for the Greek chicken salad she orderedme when I had been hoping for deep-fried goodness.

Before I can complain, she admonishes, “You need to eat better.”

“I hear that same sentiment every day at work,” I reply with an eye roll. “And drink less coffee. And sleep more. And drink less wine. Igetit. I work out all the time, so at least I have that going for me.”

“New York has changed you,” Hannah replies, and I immediately bristle.

“It hasnot,” I retort. “I’m a small-town girl in my heart and always will be.”

Hannah smiles sadly and shrugs. “It’s not a bad thing. But you’ve built a separate life that none of us quite understand. You’re still you, but… different.”

“Is this the third bomb?” My legs thrum restlessly under the table while I debate if I can steal some of Aidan’s fries without him having a conniption.

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