HANNAH
By mid-morning Monday, Hannah already knew the day was circling the drain. Nothing had started on time. Nothing ended on time. And getting to her first scouting location felt like crawling through molasses in the dead of winter.
Still, she couldn't complain too much. This job, one that she never expected to land, let alone keep, had been surprisingly flexible for a single mom. With Lyvie in daycare until late afternoon, Hannah had worried she'd never be able to juggle work and parenting. But most scouting gigs had a lot of daytime slots for the talent she sought. And the label had been understanding in a way that she still thought was unreal. Big-name artists filling the night-time slots went to the senior agents anyway, which left Hannah with the outliers, the dreamers, the fresh faces still singing to half-empty rooms.
And weirdly enough, that's where she'd found some of the best ones.
Behind the bar, Rhonda gave her a one-handed wave, a towel still in hand.
Hannah dropped her bag onto a stool and exhaled hard, puffing out her cheeks.
"How was the wedding this weekend?" Rhonda asked, breezing past her obvious stress.
Hannah hesitated. God, she wanted to spill everything. But saying it aloud made it too real. And despite Rhonda's warmth and acceptance–the Dolly Parton laugh, the absolute zero-judgement policy–she wasn't ready to share. Not yet.
"Oh, you know. The usual." Hannah deflected. "Nothing too extreme."
Rhonda gave her a look that said she wasn't buying it. But she didn't push.
She never did.
Rhonda knew more about Hannah than almost anyone here. More than she probably should. But she'd earned that trust in pieces, over shared drinks and bad days, long talks and even longer silences. Unlike Jason, who had lived through the grief and seen the worst parts of it upclose, Rhonda only knew the version Hannah chose to give her. That was easier sometimes.
"No one ran off with a mystery lover?" Rhonda asked.
Hannah froze.
Was she clairvoyant?
"I watch too many soaps and read too many trashy romance novels," Rhonda teased, sliding her a sweet tea without needing to ask. "Somebody's always getting left at the altar or swept away by an old flame."
Hannah laughed but it sounded forced and hollow. "That would have been something to see."
Rhonda studied her, a flicker of concern in her eyes. But as per usual, she let it go.
Hannah felt her eyes on her and waved a hand, "those two are madly in love anyway."
Rhonda felt the switch in conversation and for Hannah's sake, rolled with it. "They're going to a resort, aren't they?"
"Yeah, some Sandals resort. Jamaica? I don't know." Hannah laughed, "God, I'm terrible. I don't pay enough attention."
"Damn. Wish I was at a resort right now."
They both sighed like it was a shared dream.
"How was Lyvie?
"Freaking spectacular, as always." Hannah said, brightening. She pulled out her phone to show off a photo from the wedding–Lyvie mid twirl in her flower girl dress.
Rhonda gushed, like she always did.
From day one, Rhonda had adored her daughter, and that bond had only deepened their friendship.

YOU ARE READING
Of Course, It's You
RomanceThe only reason Hannah made it to this wedding, was because her friends asked for her daughter to be the flower girl. After the death of her wife, Hannah resigned herself to a life devoid of love and she's determined to avoid any romantic entangleme...