Maybe that like has turned into something more.
Did he know I was V? Was he lying to me this whole time? But why?
“Emma,” he says, turning fully to face me.
Yup, that’s definitely Van Halen’s 1984 CD in his hand.
“Hank,” I reply, because I have no idea what else to say.
“It’s you.” He scoffs. “I knew it.”
I don’t feel my legs as I approach him. “You knew I was V? How? And why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Hank’s brow furrow. “Who’s V?”
Okay, now I’m really confused. I’m also on the verge of puking. “I’m V. Which means you’re Blue.” I nod at the CD in his hand.
I notice there’s two empty glasses on the table behind Hank.
The hurt in his gaze tightens. “Guess you could say that, yeah.”
“No. I mean you’re MyBoyBlue4.”
His furrow deepens. “MyBoyBlue4? I don’t know who that is, but it’s definitely not me. Samuel’s number was 4 in the pros. Mine was 22.”
Bile surges up my throat. I start to shake as a sense of foreboding grips my windpipe. What is going on here?
“How long?” Hank asks. A muscle in his jaw tics. Same one as Samuel’s.
“Hank, I’m really sorry, but I’m not following you. What are you doing here, and why are you holding that CD?”
“Better question: why are you meeting Samuel here for what is clearly a date”—his gaze does that sweep down my body again—“when he swore up and down y’all were just friends?”
I blink. “Samuel is here?”
“Answer the question.”
“But I-I’m not meeting Samuel,” I stammer, heat flooding my face.
Hank scoffs again, mouth twisting in a disbelieving smirk. “Look at the three of us, lying to each other’s faces.”
My cheeks burn hotter. “I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for here, Hank. But if I’ve hurt you in any way, I’m sorry.”
“I am too.” He meets my eyes and lets out a breath, his shoulders falling, then runs a hand over his hair. “Fuck it. Someone has to start telling the truth. And the truth is, I’m falling in love with you, Emma.”
I just stare at him, too stunned to move. To speak.
“There’s nothing sexier than a woman who knows what she’s doing and knows what she wants. Watching you dominate my brother and enthrall everyone with your stories about wine and food and the meaning of life—shit, Emma, competence porn is a real thing, and damn are you it. Or maybe you have it? You embody it? Whatever. All I know is I’ve never seen anything like it, and I think you’re incredible. You’re smart. You’re confident. And good gracious are you beautiful.” He swallows, the sound audible in the sudden quiet of the restaurant. “It was only a matter of time before I fell for you. I knew that first day we met I was in trouble.”
“Hank,” I blurt. People are staring, I can feel it, but I’m too—too shocked, too terrified—to move.
The anger in Hank’s gaze evaporates, just for a second. Long enough to let me know I’m giving him hope.
No. No, shit, this can’t be happening.
Hank takes a step forward. “I mean every word, Emma. I know it happened fast, and I tried to stop it. Honestly, I did. You don’t have to tell me how much your job at the farm means to you. I would never, ever put that in jeopardy.”
“But you are,” I say, and his face falls. “Hank, I need you to tell me what you’re doing here.”
His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows again. “I followed Samuel. It’s fucked up and wrong, I know that, but I also know he’s been lying to me. He’s never lied to me before. Ever. So I parked outside his house and waited for him to get in his car. He drove down the mountain and I did too, and now we’re both here.”
I glance around the restaurant for what feels like the millionth time. “Samuel’s—”
“Yeah.” Hank glances around, too. “But I don’t know where the hell he went.”
That foreboding is full-on choking me now. I glance at the CD. “Is that his? The Van Halen album?”
“Guess so. I found it here on the table, and according to the hostess, this is where she sat him.”
Oh.
Oh, oh, oh my God in heaven.
But really, what the fuck are the chances that Blue is Samuel and Samuel is Blue?
But oh, oh, the dick and the honesty and the Van Halen in the car and the number and the sub stuff and the hair color and oh maybe Samuel was trying on honesty as Blue because he didn’t have the courage yet to try it in his real life.
Maybe being Blue with Lady V was part of what gave Samuel the courage he needed to open up to me, Emma Crawford.
Which means I was the one who helped get the ball rolling.
The whole thing is lovely and tragic. Relief sweeps through me—Blue isn’t Hank, thank God—followed swiftly by fear. Guilt. Confusion. Because if Samuel is Blue, why did he float the idea of moving in together when he was still intending to meet with his cybersex partner?
Is he a player after all? What am I missing?
But nothing changes the fact that Hank just confessed he’s got it bad for me.
I look at Hank, eyes filming over. What the hell do I do? “My turn to be honest. I’m here to see a guy I met on the internet.”
“MyBoyBlue,” Hank replies hoarsely.
“Yes. We’ve been chatting for a while now, and I asked him if he wanted to try meeting offline.”
His eyes light up. “So you’re here to meet Blue. Not Samuel.”
“Yes. But I am”—I draw a shaking breath—“I’m falling for Samuel, Hank. And now that I know they’re probably the same person…”
His expression crumples, and I feel his disappointment like a bullet to the chest.
So many emotions in such a short span of time. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from this.
But I’m not the one getting my heart torn out.
“Right,” Hank manages. “I get it.”
“I’m so sorry. I would’ve told you, it’s just—I mean, you understand why we didn’t say anything, right?” I lean forward to look in Hank’s eyes. “There was too much at risk for me. And for him.”
“So he’s in love with you too.”
I stand, and I shake. “Only Samuel can answer that, Hank.”
“And only you can answer this. Why him? He was such a dick to you, Emma. I wasn’t.”
“You weren’t.” I reach up and put a hand on his chest. “Thank God for that. Thank you for that. Hank, you’re the reason I stayed. If it wasn’t for you, I’m not sure I would’ve survived those first couple of weeks.”
That jaw muscle tics again. “But you still chose him.” Hank scoffs. “Nice guys really do finish last.”
“No, they don’t. Samuel is a nice guy. I just had to dig a little to find him.” I meet Hank’s gaze. “I’m sorry I wasn’t upfront about my feelings for Samuel, and I’m sorry things are such a mess because of it. I just don’t feel the same about you, Hank. You’re a wonderful coworker and even better friend. But that’s as far as my feelings go.”