26. Hannah #2
“I don’t really know what kind of symptoms you’re having.
War said Ava hasn’t had heartburn, that she craves salty food, and that she’s carrying high—” He darts a look at my abdomen, sucking in a breath like he still can’t believe what he’s seeing.
That, or maybe he’s overwhelmed. “I don’t even know what any of that means, though. ”
With my head resting against the seat, I study him. The man I find myself more and more fond of every time we’re together. He’s nothing like the playboy good-time guy I thought he was.
“I always prefer salty over sweet, so I’m not sure that says much about anything. No heartburn, and as far as how I’m carrying—” I look down just like he did and shrug. “I have no idea. Probably too early. I guess maybe it’s not so much that I think it’s a boy but that I secretly hope it is.”
The happiness radiating from him as he smiles at me is so pure, so comforting. “You want a boy?”
“I wouldn’t be upset if it was a girl,” I say, glancing out the window at the scenery. “I just never had a great relationship with my mom, so I guess I’m nervous that if I have a daughter, we’ll have that same type of relationship. I worry that I don’t really know how to be a girl mom.”
Daniel gives my hand another comforting squeeze. “You’ll be a great mom, no matter what we have. I have no doubt.”
“You have to say that.”
“I had a pretty easy relationship with my mom,” he says instead of arguing.
“But for our whole lives, she tried to turn my sister into what she considered the perfect daughter. She could be harsh and unkind to her, and she always pushed her own agenda rather than allowing Millie to pursue what made her happy. Honestly, I think what Millie went through has made her a better mother.” He lifts a shoulder.
“Yeah, Vivi is only two, but already, it’s clear that Millie always has her daughter’s best interest in mind.
She works hard not to be our mother, and I have no doubt you’ll do the same. ”
Heart thudding, I have to focus on my breathing to keep the tears at bay. “Thank you, Daniel.” I look past him, focusing on the dense forest we’re passing. “My mom isn’t all bad. She’s just selfish.”
Maybe that’s downplaying it, but it’s hard to admit some of her worst attributes. Despite that, I find myself wanting him to understand me better, and I guess a part of that includes who I am because of my mother.
“And your father?”
“Not like Daddy Hall,” I say breezily.
Daniel snaps his head to the side and glares. “Don’t.”
I giggle. “Sorry, habits die hard. And you’ve got to admit, you’ve got one hot dad.”
He groans, pushing his head back against the seat. “Hannah.”
“You should be happy about that. Good genes. You’ll probably look just like him when you grow up.”
He coughs out a laugh. “I am grown up.”
“Nah, you’re still a baby.”
He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “So you’re close with your stepdads?”
“Yup. And unfortunately, you get to meet them all. Don’t worry, only one of them owns guns and knows how to use them.”
He grips the wheel tighter, making it creak, and hisses out a Jesus .
“Honestly,” I say with a grin, “he’s the last one you should worry about. The rest own guns and don’t know how to use them. Far more dangerous.”
“ Hannah .”
I shake with my silent laughter.
“You’re evil, you know that?”
“I do.”
An easy silence falls between us as the sound of Billy Joel’s voice fills the car. When we hit the sign for New Hampshire, Daniel pulls over to the side of the road and tells me to get out.
I turn to him, my back pressed to the door. “Damn, what did I do to make you mad enough to kick me out of the car?”
He steps out and rounds the hood, hand outstretched when I throw my door open. “I want to get a picture in front of the sign.”
I glance at the Welcome to New Hampshire sign. “But why?”
He shakes his head. “Do you always ask so many questions?”
“Yes. So like I said, why?”
He ducks into the car, looming over me, and unbuckles my seat belt, then tugs me by the hand. I follow him away from the whizzing cars and toward the sign, still confused.
He positions me in front of it, then backs up and pulls his phone out. “For the baby album,” he says, holding it up. “I want to show him or her where we took them for their first road trip.”
The smile I wear as he snaps the picture might be the most genuine ever to be caught on camera. It reaches my soul.
He does this again when we reach Vermont, only this time, I ask him to join me in the picture, and we take a selfie. “Our first real picture,” he says quietly as he studies it.
“Can you send it to me?”
He looks up, his brows lifted in surprise, but without a word, he forwards it through text.
“So are we crossing the border?” I ask. If we’re headed to Canada, then I’m going to have to stop at a bathroom first.
“Nah, our destination is only a little farther.”
In the car again, he takes my hand like it’s a habit and heads back onto the highway.
I open up the text from him and examine the photo of the two of us.
Suddenly I can imagine sitting on the edge of a toddler bed, listening to Daniel tell our child all about this trip.
I can visualize him with a photo album on his lap, pointing at this exact picture.
It’s the two of us together in that room. Parents. And maybe something more.
I allow that thought to settle in my bones. To take up residence in my heart. To warm me from the inside out.
Forget the promise I made to Noah. I’m doing this for me. For our child. I’m going to open my heart to the possibility that, just maybe, Daniel and I really could be more.