Honey Ch. 01

'But I don't understand, Hanna. We've known each other for so long and there's no real acrimony now, so why can't you stay in my life?'

Richard's imploring had lasted too long for Hanna. That he knew her intimately but didn't understand her need to end everything between them was another reason the divorce was necessary.

'I can't be a part of things. It'll break me to see you move on, and we both need a fresh start. You want things I don't. How am I supposed to cope with that?'

He finally backed down. 'Alright. I'm disappointed, but I see your reasons.'

Richard was a lawyer, Hanna was an ad exec. They were both driven, both high achievers. Marriage seemed like the logical thing to do. But the death of Richard's father had thrown what was once order into unforeseen chaos. Hanna loved Richard dearly, as much as someone like her could love a person. She didn't love what he now wanted from life.

It was a shame things had to end this way. Her family said this often. She said it to herself just as much. A shame. What the hell did that really mean?

The papers were signed, Richard agreeing to have everything finalised as soon as possible so Hanna could move on as she wished. His demeanour by then had Hanna angry and irritable, so she was happy when he left.

Happy she could get on with her work.

Her assistant, a plucky girl of twenty-three named Bridget, excelled at personal assistance to the point she practically organised Hanna's entire working life. The arrangement suited them both. Hanna's lunch was waiting on her desk when she returned to the office. She had a few meetings scheduled for that afternoon, one with the CEO of Olympia Tech. She'd been trying to land an account with them for months, but Brandon Connor had rebuffed all her advances.

She knew Brandon from high school, but really he was a mere acquaintance. The school was exceptionally large. He'd made the appointment, and now Hanna's mind was full of questions. She unloaded a few on Bridget.

'I got the call this morning,' Bridget said. 'His receptionist said he'd like to meet with you today.'

'But he's not bothered to answer my calls until now.'

'Perhaps our Remington campaign aroused his interest. It did win a few awards.'

'I was there, Bridget.'

'Didn't go well with Richard?'

Hanna shook her head in such a way Bridget would see the topic was off limits.

'I got you a latte,' Bridget admitted. 'I know you didn't ask but I also knew you'd need one.'

'Thank you.'

'You're welcome.' She paused at the door to add, 'You're allowed to deal with this anyway you want, Hanna. If you need to talk...'

'I'm fine,' Hanna muttered, holding up her hand to cease the conversation.

Bridget exited and Hanna's appetite was too diminished for her to consider eating. She drank the latte and leaned back in her chair with the view she needed twenty minutes to herself, that was all she was permitted. Any longer and she'd grow complacent, or a thought of Richard would invade and leave her needlessly distracted.

She still thought of them fucking. She still remembered how good it had been in the beginning before work and life got in the way. The last few and sporadic times had been mechanical. And it would have remained that way had she agreed to him wanting a child.

He hadn't wanted one, not when they met, not even after they were married. But the sudden heart attack his father suffered -- the loss and the turmoil it caused -- woke up a need in Richard to have something meaningful in his life besides his job.

He wasn't picky, a girl or a boy would be fine. He raised the issue with Hanna, and her emotions, her reactions, they all pointed to the fact she wasn't prepared to have a baby. She had no maternal instinct, no drive to care for anyone but Richard. A third person in their life made no sense. They were workaholics. She'd have to take leave. He said he could care for the baby and she could work. That didn't detract from the fact she still had to carry the damn thing in her body; a body she'd put a lot of effort into keeping attractive and presentable.

'That's vanity,' he'd argued. 'How can you think of that as a reason not to do it?'

'I'm not meant to be a mother,' she'd protested. 'And how do you know you're meant to be a father?'

'I just know. I can see now I put it aside for practical reasons and I've made a mistake. But I have time to correct it.'

'Richard, I can't...'

'You're not even willing to consider it?'

She tried. For him. Because she loved him and couldn't lose him. And that would've been the very worst reason to do it.

This bone of contention ruined everything. Richard's resolve on the matter was concrete. Even his suggestion of adoption was knocked down by Hanna. She didn't want a child. By any means.

The argument didn't even last a month. He came home from work one evening, and Hanna had made dinner as a peace offering. As she poured him a glass of his favourite wine, he made his announcement.

'It's killing me to do this,' he said. 'But I have to.'

'And you'd do it alone if you had to?'

'I'd prefer not to, but yes.'

Hanna put the bottle down, sighed and picked up the glass to throw it at the wall, the red wine running purple streaks down the dark blue paint. She'd have aimed it at him had she not loved him so much.

So how in the hell could they remain friends? Her resentment was as thick as it'd been that night. Someone else was going to make him happy -- a woman willing to bear his child, and they weren't exactly in short supply. Hanna could see him falling for this willingness and not the woman herself.

She had to let it go.

Brandon was her one o'clock and she had fourteen minutes to get her shit together and appear as though she hadn't just gone through the worst experience of her life.

Bridget buzzed her just before one to tell her Brandon had arrived. Hanna was calm now and breathing evenly. She would navigate this conversation with ease and professionalism. Every word would be purposeful and delivered clearly. She was not a mess. She was not a horrid person for not wanting a baby... She was not a failure.

Jesus, shut up. Enough already.

Hanna walked out to greet Brandon. Twelve years hadn't aged him much. He was in a dark grey suit, white shirt, and no tie. His black hair was longer and cut neater than it had been in his youth. His smile was the same as it was then: distant and cold. By his eyes Hanna could sense he warmed to few people, and probably for his own ends. His handshake was firm and his voice, gentle.

Bridget stood by, starry-eyed. She was playing with her wispy blonde hair as she spoke, unbecoming in her flirtations. Hanna was too tired to care.

Brandon followed Hanna into her office and took a seat.

'To what do I owe the pleasure?' Hanna asked huskily as she sat. 'My courting was failing to win your attention until now.'

'Your Remington campaign, of course,' Brandon responded, smiling as he looked her over. 'Hanna Miller, you've not changed a bit.'

'Actually it's Reynolds,' she corrected automatically, instantly flustered by her error. 'No... wait. It's Miller again...' She averted her eyes and muttered an expletive.

'I won't pry,' Brandon said. 'I'm here to say I'm willing to sit through your pitch. Whatever you have. And I have all afternoon.'

Hanna picked up her desk phone and coolly asked Bridget to have Paul and Rebecca get the main boardroom ready.

'They'll be ready in about ten minutes. I keep my staff on tenterhooks for these types of situations. I'm sure a lot of them hate me for it.'

'I've heard you're pretty ruthless,' he commented. 'Probably not as much as I am, but I'd say you're fairly close. Not much has changed.'

Hanna picked up on the implication. 'Well, high achieving students never lose their edge, do they? And you were voted most likely to succeed.' The one accolade Hanna had coveted and failed to obtain. She thought if she'd earned it that it would happen in the long run, as likely to come true as a wish a child made on a star.

'You were class president, Hanna,' Brandon said with a gentle laugh. 'Topped nearly every class except science. Went on to Yale to study marketing, graduated with honours.'

'If they looked at my life now, I'd probably win "Most likely to die alone".' She added this quip as dryly as possible.

'What's wrong with being alone?' he asked simply. 'Would you rather be defined by another person or live on your own terms?'

Of all the people she'd spoken with in the past month, none of them had suggested being alone as a viable option. It wasn't as harrowing as she'd thought once Richard had moved out. The negativity and constant air of resentment between them vanished once his things were gone. He didn't want the apartment they owned.

It wasn't fit for a kid.

'I don't have a problem with it,' Hanna said. 'It has its perks. I take it you're in the same position.'

'By choice, of course. I haven't looked for anything conventional, not when I've not needed it. It's left me open to live as I wish. But you strike me as someone who took the path of coupledom out of expectation. And you've achieved all you've wanted to, yet you're completely unfulfilled.'

His inspection was cracking her veneer. 'We barely spoke back in high school. How can you even make these assumptions of me now?'

'I'm perceptive. It's helped me get where I am. You've denied yourself something vital, and I think you should use your freedom to go after it.'

The desk phone interrupted them. Hanna grabbed it and answered curtly, 'Yes?'

'Rebecca and Paul are ready now,' Bridget announced. 'Everything's set.'

'Great. Can you take Brandon down to them for me?'

'You're not going to sit in on this one? I thought you'd want to be there.'

'I have a lot to do before Penelope gets here. Rebecca and Paul don't need me to hold their hands. Just take care of Brandon for me, please.'

'Sure, Hanna. No problem.'

Hanna went as far as showing Brandon to her office door, politely saying, 'I hope everything is up to your standards.'

'I'm sure it will be. It was nice to see you again, Hanna.'

'Let Bridget know if you need anything. She has everything on hand.'

'She seems quite amenable. I'm keen to sign on, provided I like what I see.'

'You'll be impressed,' said Hanna. She'd regained some of her confidence, at least enough to sound convincing. She couldn't let him get the better of her.

Bridget ushered him away and Hanna put her palm to the door to push it shut. She stayed still and closed her eyes to get her precious composure back, yet the clarity she needed was too slow to return.

Brandon's candour had just about ripped Hanna to shreds, her fragility made more succinct for his keen observations. In her moment of weakness she was tempted to blow off her other appointments, or at least ask Daniel to cover for her so she could go home.

Daniel was her vice president. Stalwart and meticulous, he'd been the only other man in her life she could rely on besides Richard. He'd take over if necessary, and she almost couldn't muster the energy to care if Brandon signed or not.

But she knew if she clocked out now, she'd only feel like shit for not staying.

Her meeting with Penelope turned out to be the perfect distraction; her attentions were sufficiently redirected. It was a simple task of touching base to make sure things were headed in the right direction as per the brief.

As she was seeing Penelope to the elevator at reception, she spied Brandon down the hall shaking hands with a very satisfied looking Paul. The exchange confirmed to her they'd landed the account. She expected a debriefing from Rebecca momentarily, there was no need to speak to Brandon again. With that, she returned to her office to tie up loose ends for Penelope.

After a few minutes, Bridget cautiously entered as she made a short knock.

'Brandon would like to see you a moment.'

'I'm a little busy right now, Bridget. Paul can handle any other questions he has.'

'He's insisting. Do you really want to piss him off after you just reeled him in?'

Bridget's astuteness normally impressed Hanna, but now it just bothered her. She conceded, this time staying at her desk and allowing Bridget to bring Brandon in. Once he was in front of her again and the door was closed, Hanna could think of nothing but soaking in her tub for an hour with a glass of Merlot.

'I was impressed with all your ideas. I'm only sorry now I'd not approached you sooner. My current agency is really screwing me around.'

'We aim to please. And trust me when I say you're in good hands with Paul and Rebecca. They're my best team. Is there anything else you need?'

'I actually came back to apologise for my bluntness before. I honestly wasn't intending on being intrusive or judgmental. It was uncalled for and I'm sorry.'

The fact he'd been completely right was what had her unravelling. She could have lived without the apology.

'Well, thank you, and I accept. I'm glad we cleared that up.'

'I was hoping you'd join me for a drink tonight, as a gesture of good will and to seal our arrangement.'

Hanna actually felt helpless and she was resenting Brandon for stirring this in her. 'Full disclosure, I'm not even three hours divorced. I really think a date at this point would be a bad idea. No offence.'

'I'm sorry to hear that. I really wasn't fishing for any more than your company for a few hours. I'd like to get to know you. You always fascinated me in school.'

His flattery had the potential to get him everywhere with Hanna now she was in such a vulnerable place.

'I'd hardly say that I was fascinating, Brandon.'

'I suspected you were hiding a lot you were too scared to show others. I was drawn to you in a way but we always seemed to be in this unspoken competition. Least that's how it felt to me.'

His approach appeared to be innocent, and now she was sufficiently intrigued she agreed to see him.

He handed her his address and requested she meet him in the lobby bar of his apartment building at eight. She walked with him through reception and he gave her a cordial thank you before he departed in the elevator. Innocent as the request had appeared, it still had Hanna's curiosity deepening.

Bridget appeared beside her, all but swooning with her hand to her chest. 'Oh my lord!' she gasped. 'How did you even handle being alone with him?'

'Calm down, would you?'

Bridget was very much Hanna's little sister at times. 'I'd have mauled him the first opportunity I got. Look in his eye said he'd pay me back in kind...' Her smile was devious. 'Jesus wept! The things I was thinking of...'

'I'm having one drink with him to strengthen ties, professionally speaking,' Hanna said casually. 'After that, you're welcome to him.'

'I wish. He'd never go for someone like me, and I'm a perky blonde. Definitely not his type.'

They were heading back to Hanna's office during this exchange.

'Indulge me, then. What's his type?'

'A brunette with legs for days, trim but with more than reasonable assets. Driven. You, basically.'

'And you could tell that from the five minutes you spent with him?'

'He was very honest with me as I was showing him to the meeting. He was asking about you. I may have let slip the Richard situation, but only in a very vague sense.'

'It's fine. I told him as much anyway when he asked to see me. I won't see him much after tonight, Paul will be dealing with him mostly.'

She had to conceal her disappointment about this. She was upset Brandon's charms had worked on her and the rebound effect of her divorce was pushing her towards another man so quickly. She'd given herself not one second to recover. Even if things did go cold between her and Richard months ago, this was no reason for her to rush into someone else's arms for intimacy or anything else.

A friendship would've sufficed. She and Brandon had common ground, at least in terms of personality and history. She kept good friendships with the men she wasn't interested in. She was good at being in a boys' club and used this to her advantage, powerful in the face of machoism but hopeless when affection was presented to her. If love became apparent, if it took her over and then broke her heart, she would leave whoever she'd been with and never speak to them again. Richard wasn't the only one she'd turned her back on.

It was one drink. One conversation. Nothing more.

She dressed sedately and put on her overcoat after drinking a glass of wine to calm her nerves. Eating had again been difficult. She was doing something horrendously stupid going out the night of her divorce; Bridget's advice on dealing with it however she saw fit probably wasn't the kind she needed right then. She could've gone out to a bar with Bridget and spent half the night drinking, then maybe go to a club to blow off steam. But she was too old for that. At least at thirty-six, she felt too old.

And to put it that way, what she was doing now was probably more appropriate.

Brandon was seated on one of the sofas in the middle of the bar. His building's lobby was obscenely extravagant. There were small chandeliers that made a soft golden glow around the room. The furniture was lavish and everything was clean and sparkling. Her own apartment was modern and cold, and expensive; yet nothing compared to this. She almost turned about and went home when Brandon caught her out, and she had no choice but to go to him.

He stood to greet her, offering to get her a drink, and Hanna was trapped in the kind of fluster one felt on a first date. She asked for white wine, a small glass, and he went to the bar while she tried to get her bearings.

Brandon saw her tapping her foot when he returned. 'Are you alright, Hanna?'

She nodded with a quick smile. 'I was running a little late,' she lied. She'd been early and had walked around the block before coming in.

He sat down and handed her the glass. He already had a whisky on ice and she was glad she'd had something at home. Sobriety wasn't her friend at times like these.

'I know you've had a terrible day,' he said. 'I was wanting to thank you for your persistence, I suppose. I'm glad your agency hounded me in the end.'

'That's not something I've ever been congratulated on. And it was purely selfish on my part. I was in it for the money.'

Brandon was amused by this. 'So you should be. Why else? But I know this didn't give you any satisfaction. I know right now you're too drained to truly care. Too... unsatisfied to congratulate yourself.'

'I don't see how I'm giving you that impression, Brandon. You know nothing beyond the fact I've gotten divorced.'

'I've always seen through you. Even in school. I hadn't the confidence then to really approach you and offer you what I thought you needed.'

'What did I need?' She sipped her wine and stiffened, now ready to defend herself against his bombarding on her emotions.

'Acceptance. Understanding. Everyone around you praised and envied you, but they never knew you. How lonely you were. How scared you were.'

'Were you spying on me?'

He smiled. 'I didn't need to. I'd see you walking the halls chewing your nails, averting your eyes when people passed. I'd see you dig around your purse for some kind of medication you were taking on the sly. Ativan, I imagine.'

She still took it. She'd just filled another script to cope with Richard leaving.

'My sister was very much the same. You remember Harriet?'

'I do. Not that I knew her well.'

'She committed suicide last year.'

Hanna involuntarily covered her mouth a second. 'I'm so sorry. Do you know why?'

'She was sick. Very sick. Medication and therapy weren't her answer. She tried to live her life as best she could, but it was too difficult. I don't resent her for it. But I thought of you when it happened, how easily you could've given up.'