Page 77 of Second Chance Vacation

“Well…no, but it’s a factor. How was it?”

Isn’t that the question of the year.

“Good.”

I begin packing up my bag, placing my laptop in its sleeve as I put it in my briefcase. Despite feeling Hannah’s gaze on me, I don’t look up.

“What are you not telling me?”

And we’re doing this, okay.

“So—that girl they wanted me to meet?”

She nods, signaling me to keep going.

“It was…Vivi.”

Hannah’s eyes about bug out of her head. I don’t know if she’s mad or shocked or both. We haven’t talked about her in years, so it’s probably a mixture of both.

“Vivi—Viv…like…Genevieve Bennett?”

I nod, tensing up slightly, anticipating her swinging on me. Surprisingly, she doesn’t.

“Damn—” Hannah lets out a breath, leaning back in the desk chair. “Well…how did that go?”

“Are you sure you want to hear this?”

She scrunches her nose, then proceeds with gagging sounds before she composes herself.

“I could have gone my entire life without you saying that. Leavethatpart out, but how was it—I mean, between the two of you?”

Shrugging, I sit on the edge of my desk, fiddling with the knick-knacks I’ve acquired over the past few weeks here at Baker & Park.

“The trip was good. Great, it was great. We fell into things like no time had passed, but—I don’t know, something shifted when we were leaving. She won’t talk to me.”

Hannah’s face flushes as she clearly tries to keep her rage at bay. She was never a fan of Gen and I together, so I can’t imagine she’s happy with this turn of events. Despite this, she just nods.

“Did something happen that you think caused this?”

“Not really—things were fine. Great even, then we went out as a group. I put Gen to bed—”

“Gen?”

“She goes by Gen now.”

“Got it—go on.”

“—I put her to bed, stayed up with Wes, but then she woke up the next morning, and something had changed. I’m not sure what.”

Hannah looks…contemplative? I’m not sure about what, but she’s thinking something. She doesn’t look mad, like…at all. She looks sad and deep in thought.

“What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

“Nothing,” she says quickly, shaking her head before changing the subject. “I hate New York.”

With a puzzled expression on my face, I look to her, and instantly my face falls. New York City was her dream. She has talked about moving there and performing on Broadway for as long as I can remember.

“Why?”

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