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Heartbeats (chapter 1)

Hannah knew since the beginning that it would be a bad idea. But what can you do when your friend asks you to be one of two best men? You suck it up and plan the bachelorette party.
Grace had been adamant that it would be just the three of them, a fridge fully stocked with booze and a truck of the most disgusting snacks. And oh, it would be in Paris.
"Why Paris?" Mamrie asked.
"Because I am not going to Paris for my honeymoon, and I really want to go to Paris."
And that was enough of an explanation, because you don't question the bride. Ever.
So Hannah is at the airport in her shorts and sunglasses, ready to leave Los Angeles for a rainy European capital: her luggage is exploding with all the winter clothes she packed.
Who goes to Paris in November?
But Grace said it would be fine, the weather forecast predicted mild temperature and clear skies. So Hannah spent the last week putting together a holiday program that balances perfectly between sightseeing and passing out drunk.
It will be fine.
If only they were there. There was no sign of Mamrie or Grace and they'll have to go through security soon or they'd miss the flight. Hannah taps her foot on the pavement, and looks at the phone again. Nothing.
Maybe it's better. Maybe they'll be late and they won't be able to make it, so they can go to a strip club and get wasted like any normal hen party.
There she is.
Grace finally emerges from a cab. She is wearing sunglasses and gladiator sandals, and sports a large hat that Hannah thinks suits her, but is not Grace at all.
"I hope you got a change of shoes, Helbig - Hannah says - because it's going to be wet and cold over there."
"Oh hey Hannah, nice to see you too!" She says over-politely and stamps a loud kiss on her cheek. "Where's Mamrie?"
"I don't know, I actually thought you'd come together..."
Grace removes her sunglasses, revealing a truly concern look while she glances around, scanning the line of taxis and the parking lot.
"But... it's late. Has she not texted you?"
"No." Hannah is starting to feel worried.
"Shit."
Grace can't keep her eyes still, and Hannah can tell she is getting anxious.
"Hey, I am sure there is a perfectly good explanation and Mamrie is on her way. Maybe she's in traffic, or she overslept, ok? - she grabs Grace's shoulders, and forces her to look into her eyes - Ok?" She repeats.
Grace nods.
Hannah's phone rings, there is no number.
"Hello?"
"Thank God!"
"Mames?"
"Yeah, Hannah.... look, I am sorry, I am going to miss the flight. But I'll get the next one, I have already sorted it out. No worries."
Grace can see her forehead wrinkling.
"Mamrie, where are you?"
"I am stuck in traffic... listen, you guys must be late. Don't wait for me, I had to pay an extra $100 to change the flight. I'll see you in Paris."
"But -
She hangs up.
Hannah looks at Grace, who looks at Hannah, impatience.
"So? What's going on?"
"She said she'll mis this one, she'll be on the next flight available."
"Did she say when? Which airport?"
"She hang up on me! And Grace, we need to go. We still need to go through security."
There is really no time to debate how Mamrie will get to Paris, because the flight will leave in less than 20 minutes and thank god they know this airport inside out, and they haven't forgotten any liquids, and they removed all the metal from their pockets, because one more minute and they would be left panting in front of a closed gate. Instead they manage to run right up to the desk where there is still one person boarding, so they even have the time to find their passports and passes before smiling awkwardly to a very unimpressed lady. Their cheeks are red and Hannah is bent in two because apparently Grace forgot that her legs are substantially shorter.
Hannah collapse on her seat, still catching her breath, while Grace's cheeks are just a shade of pink darker than usual.
"Sorry about that." She giggles.
Hannah is splattered on the seat and looks up, frowning.
"Remind why we're friends, Grace."
"Because I'm adorable."
Hannah shakes her heads and looks out. The plane starts moving, they really made by the skin of their teeth. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath: she hates flying.
- - -
The hotel is absolutely stunning. It's a slightly decadent building, with dark red carpets and big metal-frame widows. It is exactly the sort of French charm Grace was looking for.
"Great choice, guys!" She said, looking up the high ceiling.
"It was Mamrie's pick." Hannah is pleased with Grace's reaction, because this should be perfect. She deserves it. It will be perfect.
The receptionist speaks English with an adorable accent and Grace nearly squeaks in excitement. Hannah grabs their keys and signs here, here and here, as they are instructed on how to get room service and access the spa and the swimming pool.
Grace mouths this is awesome and Hannah can't help smiling. She's never seen her friend so happy. And truly she should be, because in exactly 44 days she will walk down the aisle to marry the man of her life and start a new, fabulous life in New York city. Hannah's heart clenches a bit at the thought of being so physically far from her. She'll miss her, there is no doubt. She'll miss her so very much.
There's a part of her that hopes that on the happiest day of her life Grace will only reach a 99% happiness, with a 1% sadness at the thought she'll be far from them. But that's a selfish thought: if Grace has to peak, better be the happiest happy she could be. Full on happy.
"Wait, what?" She hears Grace say.
The French receptionist repeats: "Ms Mamriè - accent on the last e - Hart has left a message for you."
And she hands them a note, it is an email printout. Grace frowns, her eyes start to move along the lines.
Hey guys.
I am so sorry I can't be with you on this very special trip. Fuck, I really wanted to be there! First of all, don't freak out. I am alive and fine, just a couple of bruises and a broken arm. I said don't freak out!
On the way to the airport a fucking truck decided to run over my cab: long story short, I woke up at the hospital, no phone or luggage. Hey, did you know I remember Hannah's number by heart? Yeah, that surprised me too.
I am sorry I lied, but I didn't want you to cancel the trip. There is no way we can do it again this month because I have a fucking broken arm. I am already home, Tyler's here giving me some TLC, we're watching Real Housewives and drinking cocktails he's mixing with very poor results.
You guys have fun!
Mametown
- - -
"I can't believe it." Grace says for the tenth time, entering the lift.
"Yeah, no shit."
Hannah is looking down, she feels worried and sad and angry and powerless. She bites the skin of her thumb until it bleeds.
"Stop it."
Grace's voice is soft. In a fit of humanity, she pulls Hannah's head closer, on her shoulder, and lands a kiss in her hair.
"Mamrie is going to be fine."
"It's not just that. Of course I am worried for Mames: shit, the thought that she could be dead while we are on a plane to fucking Europe... but this is supposed to be your week. Our week! The trinity together for the last time?"
"Ok, first of all: this is not the last time. Secondly: it's five days, not a week. And finally: pretty please, this is my last month of freedom - she smiles tough - can we have a good time in the most beautiful city in the world?"
"I thought that was Venice." Hannah mumbles.
"Mh, debatable."
Ding.
And there they are, on the highest floor of a hotel in central Paris. Mamrie really went out of her way to find the classiest shit.
It's not even a room: it's a whole flat, with three separate bedrooms, two bathrooms - one of which has a freaking a jacuzzi - and a huge window overlooking the whole city.
"Hannah, this is unbelievable!"
"Yeah, dude! Mames and I thought you'd deserve to make the most of your freedom." Hannah says as she stands close to a cabinet, and when she opens it Grace can't help letting out a little squeak. It's a wardrobe-sized fridge stocked up with perfectly aligned bottles of vodka, fruit juices and white wine. The shelf above is a parade of exquisitely named French liquors, and at least three of them are Absinth.
"I can see why Mames didn't want us to miss this." Grace says. Hannah smiles bitterly because, but shakes it off immediately. This is about Grace, and Grace should have a great time.
- - -
Hannah knows it is a bad idea. Being in the most romantic city in the world, with woman you are in love with, a month from her wedding. With someone else. She leans against the door, looking at her own bed, and she can't keep the sigh in. Her fists are tight, her arms rigid on her sides. She could cry. She feels like she is about to. She kicks her luggage once, softly.
It's not enough, she needs more than that. She raises a hand and is about to hit the door, but despite the sound of running water Grace will definitely hear it. So she rests her fists on her head, looks around, and finally jumps on the bed and hits the mattress ten times.