Perfect (Book Two)

Twenty-Five: The Surreal Life, Starring Hanna Marin.

Saturday night, Hanna rode the elevator up to her suite at the Philadelphia Four Seasons, feeling taut, loose, and glowing. She'd just had a lemongrass body wrap, an 80-minute massage, and a Kissed by the Sun tanning treatment, all in a row. The pampering had made her feel slightly less stressed. That, and being away from Rosewood...and A.

Hopefully she was away from A.

She unlocked the door to their two-bedroom suite and strode inside. Her father was sitting on the couch in the front room. "Hey." He stood up. "How was it?"

"Wonderful." Hanna beamed at him, overcome with both happiness and sadness at once. She wanted to tell him how grateful she felt that they were back together—and yet, she knew her future with him hung in the balance—A's balance. Hopefully, blurting out stuff to Naomi and Riley yesterday would keep her safe, but what if it didn't? Maybe she should just tell him the truth about Jenna, before A got to him first.

She pressed her lips together and looked at the carpet bashfully. "Well, I have to shower really fast if we're going to make it to Le Bec-Fin."

"Just a sec." Her dad stood up. "I have another surprise for you."

On instinct, Hanna looked at her dad's hands, hoping he was holding a gift for her. Maybe it was something to make up for all those lame birthday cards. But the only thing in his hand was his cell phone.

Then came a knock on the door to the adjoining suite. "Tom? Is she here?"

Hanna froze, feeling the blood drain from her head. She knew that voice.

"Kate and Isabel are here," her father whispered excitedly. "They're coming to Le Bec-Fin with us, and then we're all going to see Mamma Mia!. Didn't you say Thursday that you wanted to see that?"

"Wait!" Hanna blocked him before he got to the door. "You invited them?"

"Yes." Her father looked at her crazily. "Who else would have?"

A, Hanna thought. It seemed like A's style. "But I thought it was going to just be you and me."

"I never said that."

Hanna frowned. Yes, he had. Hadn't he?

"Tom?" Kate's voice called. Hanna was relieved that Kate called her dad Tom, and not Daddy, but she rightened her grip on her dad's wrist.

Her father hesitated at the door, his eyes flickering back and forth awkwardly. "But, I mean, Hanna, they're already here. I thought this would be nice."

"Why...?" Why would you think that? Hanna wanted to ask. Kate makes me feel like shit and you ignore me when she's here. This is why I haven't spoken to you in years!

But there was so much confusion and disappointment on her father's face. He'd probably been planning this for days. Hanna stared at the tassels on the Oriental rug. Her throat felt clogged, as if she'd just swallowed something enormous.

"I guess you should let them in, then," she mumbled.

When her father opened the door, Isabel cried out with glee, as if they'd been separated by whole galaxies, not just states. She was still overly thin and too tan, and Hanna's eyes went immediately to the rock on her left hand. It was a three-carat Tiffany Legacy ring—Hanna knew the catalogue backward and forward.

And Kate. She was more beautiful than ever. Her diagonal-striped slip dress had to be a size two, and her straight chestnut hair was even longer than a few years ago. She gracefully placed her Louis Vuitton purse on the hotel room's little dining table. Hanna seethed. Kate probably never tripped in her new Jimmy Choos or slid on the hardwood floors after the cleaning lady waxed them.