A/N: Going through some serious Spoby withdrawals! Hoping that PLL brings him back soon. I can't stand it!

Enjoy!

CHAPTER 3

"…Melissa was saying that roses are cliché for a wedding so close to Valentine's Day, but they really are my favorite. I just can't decide between red and white. Red is supposed to mean true love, but white means hope. And that's symbolic for what we've been through. Then again, there will already be a lot of white…since it's a wedding…plus you and Emily and Aria are wearing red, so it matches…but is that red overkill? What do you think?"

Spencer was standing in front of the floral arrangement counter, thumbing through the order pamphlet. She turned to Hanna expectantly, who seemed distracted by the Valentine's display.

"Hanna. Hello?"

"Sounds good," Hanna stated noncommittally, returning to reality. Spencer rolled her eyes.

"You have no idea what I said…"

"You don't need my opinion," Hanna chided gently. "We both know you already have your mind made up."

Spencer nodded bashfully as she flipped a page in the order book. "You're right. I'll do both."

"Are you sure you want to do this so fast?" Hanna inquired, lazily flopping down on one of the couches of the lobby. Spencer carried her clipboard over to the seat beside her.

"What do you mean?"

"It's just so unpredictable. Love." Hanna was twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger absent-mindedly. "You never know what's going to happen…Or whether you'll be together next month…"

Spencer felt a pang of guilt. Hanna was still reeling from her break-up with Caleb, and here Spencer was, forcing her to help plan a wedding. She felt suddenly selfish.

"I have a feeling this isn't about Toby and me," Spencer decided. She set the clipboard aside and leaned over her legs to survey Hanna's face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Hanna stated definitively. "I'm just so angry with him…"

"I know," Spencer said supportively, putting a hand on Hanna's knee. "He could have tried to make it work."

"He could have chosen me," Hanna corrected, crossing her arms stubbornly. "We could have figured something out together."

"But Han," Spencer began gently, careful in her word selection, "Caleb has dreams, too. He supported you when you came out here to fulfill yours…"

"And I would have supported him in California," Hanna defended indignantly, swatting Spencer's hand away.

"It would have killed you," Spencer reasoned. "You would be a million miles away from each other and hardly spend any time together…"

"You and Toby made it happen," Hanna snapped. "You closed the distance and found each other again. After months. Caleb just didn't have the hope that I thought he did."

"I know you're angry," Spencer stated, "but you can't begrudge him for this. It was hard on him, too."

"I know," Hanna sighed dejectedly, letting her body fall against the back cushion of the leather couch. "I just wish we didn't have to grow up so fast. You know?"

"Yeah," Spencer agreed distantly. "I do. It's just…Hanna…you know you can talk to me about this. About anything."

Hanna seemed to engaging in some kind of internal debate. She let Spencer's words hang precariously in the air as she stubbornly wiped a single tear from her cheek and sat up straight.

"Sorry to be a Debbie Downer," she declared suddenly. "Today is about you. Let's take a look at those flowers."

"Hanna…"

"Lemme see what you picked." Before Spencer could protest, Hanna had already ripped the pamphlet from her hand and was studying the open page. "Red and white roses. Totally classic, Spence. Good pick."

"Have you talked to Holmes?" Spencer asked suddenly before she could stop herself.

Hanna made a face. "About what?"

"Be honest with me, Hanna," Spencer began. "There's something there…between you two."

"Ew," Hanna spat. "That's like saying there's something between you and Jason."

"Jason is my brother," Spencer argued.

"Exactly!"

"And that's all you regard him as?" Spencer demanded. "A surrogate brother?"

"If I knew what 'surrogate' meant, then probably, yeah." Hanna was avoiding her eyes as she began flipping absently through the brochure. Spencer had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't really looking at it.

"You can tell me anything, Han," Spencer repeated softly. Hanna paused, staring off distantly into space.

"It would mess everything up," Hanna stated simply.

"Mess what up?"

"I've never had someone look after me the way Holmes does," Hanna began, turning to face Spencer as she explained herself. "It's really special to me. And all the…feelings aside, I need that kind of person in my life right now."

"Boyfriends look after you, too," Spencer insisted.

"It's not the same," Hanna scoffed. "Boyfriends look out for you because they love you. That's like…an ulterior motive. They have to do it."

"But he does it already and he's not your boyfriend," Spencer pressed.

"I'm done talking about this," Hanna said suddenly, pushing the pamphlet back into Spencer's hand and standing. "Let's order these flowers and get to the dress shop. I have homework to do."

"For your new photography class?" Spencer inquired. She planned to live vicariously through Hanna this semester, as her own double major and minor left very little room for the artsy electives she yearned to explore.

"No." Hanna hesitated. "I'm dropping that class."

"What?" Spencer demanded. "Why? I thought you were looking forward to it so much!"

"Teacher's a bitch," Hanna explained simply.

"So? You can out-bitch anybody, any day," Spencer fought. "You can hold your own."

Hanna whipped around to face Spencer, her eyes glinting dangerously. "Do you seriously have nothing better to do today than get into my business?" she demanded harshly. "God, Spencer, for once in your life, butt out."

Spencer blanched. Hanna's comment had been nothing short of unexpected. She nodded vaguely as she stepped up to the counter to place the order. Hanna said nothing.

In fact, Hanna said very little for the rest of the day. The only exception was at David's Bridal, when Spencer stepped out of the dressing room in a beautiful wedding gown with an intricate train and a dazzling sequin bodice. Then, and only then, Hanna gushed aloud.

"You will be the most beautiful bride to ever walk the planet," Hanna stated lovingly as she straightened Spencer's veil. "It's perfect."

However, once back in the car, it was radio silence. Hanna once again became a steel trap.

When they arrived home, Spencer despondently grabbed her dress and trudged upstairs to her and Toby's bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Hanna guiltily lowered herself onto one of the bar stools in the kitchen, burying her face in her arms. She hadn't meant to be such a bitch…truly…but she needed Spencer to forget about that stupid photography class. And she knew that if Spencer kept asking questions, she'd eventually break. And she'd tell her everything. And she had already made the conscious decision to avoid precisely that.

"What can I get for ya?"

She raised her head to see Holmes on the opposite side of the bar, slinging a towel over his shoulder as he mockingly role-played a bartender.

"A double Margarita," Hanna pleaded, letting her head fall against the counter once more.

"I only have beer," Holmes replied apologetically. "Seriously…do you want one?"

"No. Alcohol only makes me more depressed," Hanna reasoned, lifting her head so that her chin rested on her arms. She tilted her view to take a good look at Holmes. "I really messed things up."

"How's that?"

"I was a total snob to Spencer all day. I'm the worst Maid of Honor in the world."

Holmes chuckled, leaning over the bar and grasping one of Hanna's hands in his own. "I'm sure she doesn't think that for a second."

"No. Really. I was a nightmare." Hanna squeezed his hand, gleaning the comfort that his touch always provided her.

"You usually are," Holmes chided good-naturedly. "But we wouldn't have you any other way."

"Ha, ha," Hanna mumbled sarcastically, rolling her eyes in his direction. She paused for a moment, pulling her hand slowly away from his and wrapping her arms around herself protectively. "Holmes…have you ever had to keep something from someone? Something really big? Because you knew that it would hurt them more if they knew, than if they didn't?"

Holmes hesitated, pursing his lips in thought. "This past September. I could have easily not told Cavanaugh about Cody asking Spencer out…I knew it would kill him. But obviously him knowing was what needed to happen."

Hanna scrunched her nose distastefully. "Ironic, that Cody is the culprit behind so many secrets."

"What?"

Hanna chewed on her bottom lip, surveying Holmes's face thoroughly. "I trust you," she stated simply.

"Okay…" Holmes shook his head in confusion, awaiting her continuation.

"Seriously," Hanna added. "I trust that you won't say anything. To anybody. Not Toby…not Spencer…not even the barista at Starbucks."

"Okay, okay," Holmes consented, failing to suppress a slight chuckle at her surreptitiousness.

Hanna took a deep breath. "Cody's out of jail."

It was as though Holmes had been struck in the back of the head with a sledgehammer. His eyes instantly bugged out and his mouth fell agape, astounded.

"What?"

"Out," Hanna repeated. "He's in my photography class…but I'm dropping it."

"And you're not going to tell Spencer." It was a statement, not a question. However, it was loaded with judgment.

"He asked me not to," Hanna said pathetically. Holmes scoffed in indignation. "No, I mean, he said he's just finishing up the semester and then he's out of Michigan. For good. And he doesn't want to bother anyone…and in exchange, doesn't want anyone bothering him."

"And you took his word for it?" Holmes demanded, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. He looked fit to jump out of his own skin. "Hanna! Don't be an idiot!"

Hanna recoiled, as if slapped. "I'm doing what I think is best."

"Telling her is best!"

"How?" Hanna practically shrieked. "Scaring the shit out of her all over again, after how far she has come? How is that possibly best?"

Holmes hesitated, seemingly at a loss for a counterargument. However, he was still silently fuming.

"She's been my best friend for five years, almost six," Hanna continued. "I think I know what she can and cannot handle emotionally. Toby comes home in five days! She has a wedding in three weeks, Holmes! This is not the kind of present I wanted to give the newly weds. Sorry if I'm being an idiot about it."

Holmes was flexing his fists irritably, staring off towards the staircase.

"I can't tell you what to do," Hanna resigned softly. "If you feel like you have to tell them, do it. But it breaks my heart to think of her being scared all over again when things are finally going her way."

Holmes exhaled heavily, a hint of a growl in tandem.

"If he comes around here…If he so much as comes within three miles of this house…"

"Then he breaks his end of the deal," Hanna concluded. "And all bets are off."

Holmes seemed to accept this as leaned against the bar counter once more, appraising Hanna's expression. There was a pregnant pause as Holmes buried his pride. He looked at her thoughtfully before speaking at last.

"I shouldn't have gotten so angry with you. You're right…you're trying to do what's best. I didn't mean to be such a tool."

"You usually are," she echoed of his previous comment. "But we wouldn't have you any other way."

Holmes smirked cheekily. "Touché."

Hanna sighed, pushing her stool away from the bar. "I should probably go talk to her."

"And say what?" Holmes reasoned. "You have no explanation for her right now…Just let it blow over. She'll talk to you when she's ready to forget it."

"You're right," Hanna agreed. She tapped her fingernails on the bar top. "I'm starving."

"Me too," Holmes stated. "Chinese and Blockbuster rentals?"

"My favorite kind of date," Hanna laughed, reaching for her purse. "Been dying to see the new Paranormal Activity…"

"Agreed," Holmes said. "The best part of scary movies is watching you jump. That's the most entertaining part of the night for me."

Hanna jokingly punched him in the shoulder, grabbing his Carhartt from the coat tree and tossing it in his direction. "Just for that, you're driving."

CONT'D