Page 291 of Ruthless Court

No sudden interest in Hannah.

Nothing.

I could get used to this.

The sourdough poet bows dramatically.

Applause fills the room.

Hannah claps hard.

“You liked that?”

“It was funny.”

“He compared a jar of yeast to shared custody.”

“That was the best part.”

“I thought the best part was when he called Kevin a resilient little bastard.”

She turns toward me.

“Kevin is the starter.”

“I gathered that.”

“You asked whether it was a metaphor.”

“I had hope.”

Her smile widens.

I stop paying attention to the stage.

I’ve seen Hannah laugh before.

Quick bursts when I catch her off guard.

Dry little smiles when she thinks she won an argument.

This is different.

Her hair is down tonight, thick and dark against the green sweater she wore beneath her coat. Every time she laughs, she tips her face slightly downward like she still isn’t used to letting the sound escape without controlling it.

The next performer walks onto the platform.

Hannah glances toward me.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“I’m sitting.”

“You can do both.”