Page 21 of The Comeback Summer

“Congratulations,” I say, forcing a smile to cover my bewilderment.

“Thanks. What about you—how’s the Freedman Group? How are Libby and GiGi?”

My face falls. “My grandma passed away three years ago.”

His smile disappears. “Oh, Hannah. I’m so sorry. That must have been awful for you and Libby.”

The genuine concern in his voice makes my eyes prickle with tears. “Yeah. It was. It still is. We miss her every day.”

“Of course you do,” he says. “I’m so sorry. I loved GiGi.”

“She loved you, too.”

It’s partially true; GiGi thought Josh had a good head on his shoulders. But I remember her warning me that I ought to figure myself out before committing to someone. I should have listened.

“Anyway,” I say, clearing my throat. “Libby and I are running the company together, trying to keep it from falling into ruin.”

I don’t know why I’m telling him this. It’s just spilling out ofme. Probably because of the way he’s listening, with complete focus, attentive and earnest. I’ve been picking at my Nutella-filled donut and sipping my coffee, but his are untouched.

“Things aren’t going well?” he asks, his forehead wrinkling in concern.

I shake my head. “We recently lost a huge client. But,” I say, not wanting to sound like a loser in front of my ex-boyfriend, who has a freaking doctorate and a supercool job, “we have the opportunity to work with a great new client. Have you heard of that ‘Crushing Your Comfort Zone’ TED talk?”

He lights up. “Yes! I watched that. Lou—short for Louise, not Loser. You’re going to be her PR company? That’s amazing.”

“She’s making us follow her program before she hires us,” I say, taking another bite of my donut. A little Nutella oozes out of my mouth, and I wipe it with a napkin. It’s strange, how comfortable I feel around him already.Just like two old friends.

Libby’s voice floats through my mind:Two old friends who used to bang.

Refocusing, I tell him about the results of our questionnaires.

“My weakness is in my social skills, obviously,” I say.

“Why obviously?” He’s looking at me with a perplexed expression, one dark eyebrow raised, like he truly doesn’t get it.

“Oh, because I’m... you know. Socially awkward.”

“No, you’re not. You’re great with people.”

No, I want to say.You’re great with people and I followed you around like a lost puppy.

“Well, her analysis revealed that I avoid new people and situations, so my challenge is to go on twelve dates with twelve men this summer. It’ll be horrendous.”

Something happens to his face as I say those words. It’ssubtle, a brief shift in his expression. Like when someone pretends to throw a punch, and you can’t help but flinch.

Then he leans back and runs a hand through his hair, and the smile returns to his face.

“And Libby’s challenge?” he asks.

When I describe the Down & Dirty, he says, “I’ve always wanted to do one of those,” and it hits me: my love for running started when we both joined the track team in high school. Another core personality trait linked to Josh.

“Same. I’m excited to do it with Libby and Scott.”

“Scott?”

“Our office manager. Remember that video that went viral on YouTube years ago? The kid helping his mom try on outfits at Neiman Marcus? ‘Great!’ ‘Not great!’ ” I imitate little Scott’s high-pitched voice. “Anyway, that’s him. Great Scott.”

Josh is eyeing me, and I can tell there’s something going on in his mind. Back when we were together, I’d sometimes say, “What?” before he said anything. Like I knew what he wanted to say before he did.

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