14. Hannah
Chapter fourteen
Hannah
I 'm still on cloud nine for the entire rest of the week. I'm sore from two hours in the saddle, but God do I relish the feeling.
Matty's been blowing up my phone and I laugh because he's saved himself in my phone as "Number 1 fan" so every text I get from him makes me smile.
Rico and Santiago text, too, and it all seems so domestic and intimate at the same time.
It's Friday night and I've just sat down with my kids for dinner.
"Mommy, why are you smiling?" Viv asks me at dinner.
"What? I'm not allowed to be happy?" I tease back, still smiling.
"Oh, you are, it's just weird to see."
From the mouth of babes. Have I really been that unhappy, that seeing me smile is new for them? Different enough to call me out about it? My heart breaks a little, thinking that I've been wandering around for a decade sad.
Aiden, my empath, reaches out and holds my hand. "Has something happened?"
I plaster a fake smile on my face. I'll have time to regret decisions later. "Yes. I made three new friends and they make me happy."
"Matty, Rico and Santiago?"
I nod, a lump lodging itself in my throat. They're more than just friends, but I'm not sure if it's too soon to admit that to my kids. I can't tell them I'm developing feelings for them, while I'm still married to their father.
Soon I'll be set up financially, and then I can broach the subject of divorce with the kids. I have no idea how they'll react. Alan hasn't exactly been a great father, but he is still their dad. He's the only one they've known.
"I like Matty. He's funny. Rico seems cool, too. Santiago's scary, though." Jack rambles excitedly. I can tell Aiden wants to say more, but not in front of the other two. I make a mental note to see him alone before bed.
"Santi's not scary. He's serious. There's nothing wrong with being serious." Viv pouts, folding her arms over her chest. I'm sure she sees herself in Santiago. The use of his nickname makes me smile again. My baby girl's best friends with a Columbian mafia enforcer. I shake my head. That thought should send me running for the hills, but I've never felt unsafe around them. They've done nothing but be kind and wonderful to me and my kids.
Just then the front door flies open so hard it bounces against the wall. We all jump at the unexpected noise. Alan storms in, his suit wrinkled, his hair disheveled, waving a piece of paper at us.
"What the fuck is this, Hannah?" He asks, spitting out my name with such disgust it raises the hair on the back of my neck.
I have no idea what's happening, but I know I don't want my kids involved. "Kids, go upstairs please." Aiden herds the other two quickly upstairs before turning on a movie loudly from his bedroom. Shame washes over me as I realize this isn't the first time he's shielded his siblings from a fight.
Every day I'm more certain that I need to leave.
He towers over me, still seated at the dining room table, and slams a wrinkled piece of paper onto the table next to me.
I'm nervous, but I try to portray calm. If he sees weakness he 'll attack.
"Why are my coworkers asking about my WIFE being on the arm of another man?" He shouts, spittle flying out and landing on my cheek. I slowly wipe it off before looking at the paper. It's a printed-out picture of Matty and I walking into the club that night. It's not intimate, it's not risqué. It looks like two friends out on the town having fun. And that's exactly what it is.
"I went out with a friend."
"That doesn't look friendly!" He shouts, stabbing the picture with his finger. "That looks like I'm being fucking cuckolded by my wife."
"Alan, please. It was a night out with friends. Nothing happened. I promise." I don't know what else to say, but I know he's not going to believe me no matter what I say. I need to appease him so he leaves again.
"If I find out you've been making a fool out of me behind my back I will end you. I will take you to court, divorce you, kick you out, and keep the kids. Don't fucking try me, Hannah." He shouts, spittle flying from his mouth.
Just as quickly as he stormed in, he spins on his heel and storms back out again.
Alan slams the front door so hard it doesn't catch and simply bounces back open. I sigh, the adrenaline still thrumming through my veins. I get up, close the door, lock it, and lean my back against it. I take a few deep, calming breaths before I go upstairs. Aiden, Viv, and Jack are all in Aiden's room, as his bed is the biggest, cuddled together watching Moana. I know Aiden's too old for this movie, but he put it on for Viv and Jack. Hot tears prick my eye lids. He's had to grow up too fast to protect his siblings. I hate that for him. I've stolen his childhood by my poor choices.
Viv and Aid look at me, worry on their faces, while Jack watches happily along, oblivious to the tension and mood in the room.
I blink away the tears. And lay in bed with my babies. "Are you guys still hungry? I could order a pizza?" Aiden and Viv share a look.
"We're not hungry."
Of course the fuck they're not. They're stressed. I frown.
"Alright then, it's time for baths and books before bed. I'm going to go clean up the kitchen and I'll be back up to help." They know the routine. And maybe that's just what they need - routine, a sense of normal - while I need a minute or two to myself.
I go back downstairs and busy myself with dishes and wiping down counters. I can't wait for the income from the club to leave him. But Alan won't react well when I serve him papers. He won't grant me the divorce. He'll make me fight him every step of the way. Matty and I will have to figure something out. Maybe something he wants more than to stay married. Maybe there's something we can bribe him with? Something that makes him look like the good guy out of all of this? Or at least make it look like he's won.
The skies open and rain begins to pour. I'm grateful for it. The dull background noise feels like an insulating presence. Everyone in this house is safe, warm, and fed, if not a little stressed. I'm grateful for that. Tomorrow, we'll have to figure out everything else, but for tonight we're safe.
Lightening flashes through the sky, illuminating the backyard, where a man stands on the far side of the pool. My eyes widen in fear, and the hair on my arms stands on end. Terrified, I run to the back slider and lock it, staring at the dark, unmoving form. It's dark in the backyard, and with the rain, I can only barely make out the outline of a man. The lights are on inside, so I'm sure he can see me clearly.
I hide my body behind the wall but peer back through the sliding door to see if he's still out there. My heart is racing and my skin prickles like I'm in a horror movie.
I locked the rest of the doors, right? RIGHT?!
I sprint to the front door. Locked. I sprint to the garage door. Locked.
Breathing a little easier, I return to my hiding spot by the back sliding doors when another lightning bolt lights the night sky.
Wait a minute. I know that figure.
I know that haircut.
I know that suit.
I laugh out an exasperated chuckle.
Throwing caution to the wind, I unlock the back sliding door and walk back out to the back porch.
"Well come in then, creeper. You can look at me a whole lot closer from inside the house."
I can't see his face, but somehow I know he smiles. He follows me into the kitchen before I close the slider behind me.
Matty's devastatingly handsome face smiles back at me sheepishly. He's been caught.
But he's soaking wet and dripping onto the tiles. I can't believe he got his Armani suit soaked.
"You're wet. Let's get you out of this and dry. I think I have some of Alan's clothes that might fit you?"
Matty and Alan are both white-collar boys, but Matty is much broader across the shoulders and full of muscles. Muscles I'm not ashamed to have ogled.
Without thinking, I push Matty's suit coat off of his shoulders and drape it over the dining room chair. I start undoing the buttons on his undershirt. The undershirt that is clinging shamelessly over his pectorals and abs.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I wanted to see you. I didn't mean to scare you."
His boyish confession makes me smile.
"You could have called, or texted. Or, oh I don't know, maybe come through the front door?"
"I did text. You didn't reply."
Oh shit, I hadn't checked my phone since the blow-up with Alan. I frown at the reminder.
"I just wanted to see you. I didn't know if you'd let me in."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"I didn't know if Alan was home or not."
I nod in understanding.
Matty's methods may be unorthodox, but I can't help but enjoy the attention.
As I'm unbuttoning his shirt, though, my thoughts drift to the hard muscle beneath his clinging shirt.
"Holy shit," I whisper. That was supposed to be an inside thought.
Unconsciously, I drag my finger down the ridges of his abs. I've never seen someone so cut - so built - so...perfect. Except maybe that night at the club, and Santiago.
He shivers under my touch and giggles. "Oh my God, that tickles."
I can't help but laugh myself.
I swallow hard, trying not to objectify the man in front of me. He's a friend, his clothes are soaked, I'm sure he's cold, I need to get him changed.
"No offense, but I'm not wearing anything of that asshole's."
I shake my head. "That's fine, but at least let's get you dry and warm." My mind goes into problem-solving mode. I can't just throw an Armani suit in the dryer. They're dry clean only, right? But if he won't wear Alan's clothes, what will he wear? I doubt he'd wear my shirts or yoga pants. Although, part of me is suspicious he'd wear the shit out of my yoga pants. He'd probably look better than me in them.
I take off his shirt and rest it next to his suit coat.
Step one: I need to get him dry. I'll figure out the clothes situation later.
I step into the laundry room and get him a towel, but when I return to the kitchen, he's already shucked off his pants, socks, and shoes, and is standing, in front of my open fridge, in just his boxer briefs.
God, he looks good in my kitchen. I pause, just for a moment, allowing myself the fantasy. The lights from the fridge burrow into every crevice of his muscles, outlining them in a mouth-watering way. His hair is damp and disheveled, and I want to run my fingers through it .
I want to see him, naked, in an apron, cooking me pancakes in the morning. I want to see him pressing up out of a pool, the water caressing his gorgeous body. I want to see him, body pressed against mine, my fingers digging into his back.
Holy fuck where did that come from?
I shake my head to clear away the horny thoughts.
I walk into the kitchen, with a confidence I don't really possess, and run the towel over his hair like I would one of my kids.
"You're going to catch a cold."