Chapter 8
eight
HANNAH
It was one of the worst days of my week. And one I had secretly waited for because I was a masochist.
Beau was home. All day. All night.
Either the restaurant was closed or it was his day off—I didn’t know because I didn’t ask. Limiting my interactions with him was safest.
Beau was with Clara in her room, reading together while music played from the Bluetooth speaker she got for her birthday. Clara loved music—Taylor Swift, Bach, Stevie Nicks, Nirvana. Her taste was varied and genre-bending, some obviously influenced by her father, others completely her.
The house was never quiet, not for a moment. If there wasn’t music, there was Clara’s chatter, questions, commentary, compliments, or just a low hum of contentment when she was happily playing alone.
I didn’t realize how much the sounds of a happy child, a happy home, meant to me until I went to my own bedroom and was met with oppressive silence.
I was already on edge because I didn’t like being in the house when Beau was home, spending time with his daughter, making it clear he didn't need me. I usually went out for walks, picked weeds in the garden, or marinated in existential dread with my headphones blaring.
I hadn’t made friends in Jupiter, unless you counted the handful of mothers at the park who were nice.
But Clara still wasn’t cleared for too much socializing, so I rarely saw them.
Clara was my best friend, as pathetic as that was.
So when Beau was with her, I felt like a ghost, trying to float around so no one would notice me but also desperate to be seen.
More than a little pathetic.
The knock at the door was a signal of something, or someone, breaking up my day.
Probably a delivery person or Beau’s father.
Maybe Elliot. We still didn’t get many visitors, especially unannounced.
Though after Clara’s birthday party, more people were in contact, and we’d even had a couple of playdates with Nora’s eldest daughter on the warmer days we were able to be outside following correct precautions.
Clara loved being around kids, even the younger ones, since she’d been isolated for so long.
As winter crept in, I was looking forward to the restrictions on her being lifted further, so we could take Nora, Fiona, and Avery up on their invitations.
Though she’d always been warm and friendly, I did not expect Fiona to be on Beau’s doorstep, smiling at me and rubbing her arms over the top of her jacket
“It is cold as all fuck out here,” she declared, stepping inside.
I let her, because it was cold—though nowhere near as bad as I was preparing for it to be—and because she was nice, and the only other option was barring her from entering.
“I’ve been away from Australia for ages, but my blood still rejects this feral weather.” Fiona shivered, blowing into her cupped hands.
“That makes me nervous since the worst is yet to come,” I told her with a smile.
Even though I didn’t know the purpose of Fiona’s visit—I was reasonably sure that she and Beau were not close friends—I was glad for it.
It gave me some respite from the tension simmering in the house, two adults dancing around each other, pretending.
Beau was pretending—badly—that he was tolerating my existence.
Me pretending—arguably just as badly—that I didn’t hate him, didn’t want him.
It was exhausting, adding to my other stress about Waylon’s credit card charges. I was up late creating a budget, redoing it, trying to figure out if I could go back to school once I finished here, even if I was on the hook for those charges or if I’d have to continue working.
“I’m not here to make you nervous, I’m here to kidnap you.” Fiona smirked.
I stared at her, trying to understand if it was some joke that didn’t transcend cultures. “I don’t think you tell people you’re kidnapping them.” I didn’t know what else to say.
She chuckled. The sound was genuine, warm. “I’ll make note of that for next time.”
“We’ve been meaning to do it for ages, but schedules, children.” Fiona waved her hand dismissively. “You’re coming for drinks.”
“Drinks?” I reared back in surprise, my stomach pitching and somehow also soaring at the invitation, Fiona being there for me.
She nodded. “I’m the unofficial welcoming committee. Well, Calliope was supposed to be, but she’s off somewhere, doing a hostile takeover of a billion-dollar company, making CEOs cry. Whatever it is she does.”
When she rolled her eyes good-naturedly, it was a relief to learn that she didn’t know what Calliope did for a living either.
I knew she was extraordinarily wealthy because the handful of times I’d interacted with her, she’d been clad in designer clothing, diamonds everywhere.
And I knew it was something badass because…
well, you just had to spend a few seconds in her presence to deduce that.
I searched my brain for excuses, knowing that getting any closer to these women was a mistake. I was already going to have trouble leaving Clara, forming friendships would only complicate things.
At her birthday party I’d gotten close to exposing too much about my life. The credit card bill was still at the forefront of my mind. I couldn’t risk blurting something further and establishing myself as some drama queen. Or some victim.
Most of all, I didn’t want anything getting back to Beau.
All this ran through my brain, yet I still couldn’t think of a single excuse, not with Fiona’s expectant gaze firmly on me.
“I’m not really dressed for drinks.” I gestured down to my jeans and cheap sweater.
It was a weak excuse, given that Fiona was standing in front of me in ripped jeans and a cable knit sweater.
Granted, the clothing looked a lot more high-quality than mine; she was effortlessly glamorous in that way Australians managed to be.
Perfectly styled blonde hair, tanned, flawless skin, sparkling eyes.
“You look great,” she told me.
I fumbled for more excuse, the prospect of socializing after being isolated for so long was actually terrifying.
“Fiona!” a small voice shouted from the end of the hall.
Fiona and I both looked at Clara, running toward us. She grasped on to my lower legs with a casual form of affection that made my heart clench.
I put my arm around her, reveling in the moment, knowing that I wouldn’t always be able to pretend this little girl was mine to hold.
“Where’s June?” Clara peered around Fiona, more than a little excited about the prospect of the wild toddler being there for a surprise visit.
“She’s likely destroying something with her father.” Fiona winked. “I’ll bring her next time, when your father has ample warning to take protective measures.” Her eyes danced with a smile she directed behind me.
“I’ll ensure the entire house is bubble wrapped,” Beau responded dryly.
I didn’t look back, but the low rumble of his voice danced across my skin, and my teeth gritted together at his easy warmth with Fiona, a woman he barely knew.
He was capable of being witty, having a sense of humor, being pleasant. Just not with me.
Fiona crouched down to Clara’s level. “I’m wondering if I can borrow Hannah for the night. In return, I’ll let you babysit June.”
I bit back my smile, knowing the bargain would be more than enticing to Clara.
But there was a pause as she chewed on her lower lip, considering it.
She looked to me, then to Fiona. “Will she be back by my bedtime?”
I opened my mouth to assure her I would, but Fiona spoke before I could. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”
Again, my stomach did the weird thing where I was both nervous and excited.
My life had been so small those past months.
Even while dealing with the bill from Waylon, the complicated experience with Beau, the uncertainty of Clara’s healing journey, I’d had a meager, predictable number of people I interacted with.
No social life. I didn’t have to share any of my personal information with anyone.
I just had to take care of Clara and ignore Beau the best I could.
It kept me safe. But it kept me lonely too.
“Will you come in, if I’m asleep, to check on my dreams?” Clara asked me, still holding on to my leg.
I pulled her up into my arms. “I promise. I’ll even give you some of mine to try out.”
It was something Clara and I talked about often, how I’d come in to check on her dreams and make sure no bad ones were lurking. She’d had a few nightmares over the months, and it seemed to help.
“Okay.” She nodded seriously. “I’ll allow it.”
I gave her a hug, squeezing her and sniffing her hair before setting her down on the floor.
Though I was appropriately terrified at the prospect of socializing with a bunch of women I barely knew, I was deep in it now. There was no escape.
Fiona chatted happily with Clara as I slipped on my shoes, which were at the door along with my jacket and purse.
Beau hadn’t moved. Because Fiona was in the vicinity and had a heck of a sharper eye than Clara. Beau and I knew what kind of pattern to settle into when adults were present. He was slightly less rude to me. Slightly.
I tried not to blush, mutter, and stumble over my words. I tried to seem like a well-functioning adult who didn’t hate her boss and desire him in equal measure.
“Well, goodbye, Beau.” Not knowing what to do in such close quarters, I stuck out my hand.
For a split second, with my hand extended in space, I looked down at it, horrified at my choice. I’d said goodbye to Beau then extended my hand for a handshake because I had no idea how to act in front of him with Fiona as a witness.
That was not how to act.
But it was too late.
Just as I was about to snatch my hand away and try to find a hole in the earth to jump into, Beau’s large, dry hand engulfed mine.
My body was shocked by the contact, the simple gesture people exchanged on a daily basis becoming a spectacle because of my awkwardness.