Chapter 11
eleven
HANNAH
The dinner I had planned with Lori couldn’t have happened at a better time. I needed space. Needed to clear my head and remind myself I wasn’t part of their family. I was a single woman. In the eyes of the law, I technically wasn’t, but I wasn’t going to think about my estranged husband.
I was going to remind myself that I was in my early twenties, that I was allowed to have fun, and that I was not going to be attached to a grumpy, almost forty-year-old man and his wonderful five-year-old daughter for much longer.
Beau had the night off. He knew I was going out for dinner with Lori and didn’t seem to have an opinion on it one way or another. Why should he?
It was not his business.
I was not his business, I reminded myself as I swiped mascara on my lashes.
I pulled on a pair of heeled boots that I’d been proud to pull from a sale bin. Supple leather, thin heel. They seemed grown-up, elegant, fashionable. I hadn’t had an occasion to wear them, looking after a five-year-old. But dinner and drinks with a new friend was the perfect opportunity.
I’d paired them with a knit dress that fell just below my knee and piled my hair up in a messy bun. My earrings were handmade by Clara.
My heels clicked along the floor as I walked down the hall, grabbing my purse and coat from the hook at the front door.
Beau and Clara were reading on the sofa.
He was wearing his reading glasses again.
And Beau had an e-reader. It was not something I had noticed before, but it was something that seemed at odds with the grumpy, borderline hermit.
I figured him for a fuck technology, progress and corporations kind of guy.
It seemed laughably small in his large hands.
His eyes were not on the Kindle, though. They were on me, from the second I emerged from the hall. He kept his expression bland, even, as he had since Cole had left.
But I saw him visibly swallow, and his eyes did not dart back down to the book. They stayed on me. Though I had no visible reason to feel heat from his gaze, my body pulsated.
“Hannah! You look so pretty,” Clara exclaimed, looking up from her book. “I love your boots.”
I tore my eyes from Beau. “Thank you, sweetness.”
Thank goodness for Clara, her presence ensuring that neither Beau nor I ventured into dangerous territory.
Even if he was interested in me like Cole said, it was not something that could ever end well.
And did I remember the first few months here?
He was horrible to me. There was no excuse for that.
“You’re going out with Lori?” Clara put down her book.
I nodded.
“Are you going dancing too?” She clasped her hands on top of her thighs.
I smiled. Clara loved the concept of going dancing. She spoke about how she’d do it all over the world when she was older, that she’d learn to salsa and waltz.
“Maybe.” I highly doubted I’d be dancing. I’d stick to doing it in the living room with Clara. When Beau was nowhere to be found.
“And will you meet boys?” Clara asked, eyes lighting up.
Clara also recently loved the concept of boys. And romance. And kissing.
My cheeks flamed, and my knees threatened to buckle from the intensity of Beau’s gaze. But what did Beau care if I met a man? I was single, it was my prerogative. He hadn’t so much as gone on a date since I’d been here. Not that that meant there weren’t women.
Beau could’ve been discreet.
The mere thought of Beau with another woman had me clenching my teeth.
“Maybe,” I told Clara, telling myself I was feeding her romantic heart, not playing stupid games with Beau to see if he cared about me.
She jumped up from the sofa. “Imagine if you meet a boy and fall in love! Then you can stay in Jupiter and live here forever!”
Clara was aware of my plans for leaving. Beau reminded her often, as did I. We had an unspoken agreement to manage Clara’s expectations toward me, to ensure that she knew my presence was not forever. Boundaries. We’d tried to instill them.
I thought she’d taken it in stride, but apparently, she was making up fantasies about me staying forever. Her and me both.
I smiled, still not looking at Beau.
Clara did, though. “Wouldn’t that be great, Daddy?” She turned to him. “If Hannah lived here forever?”
Then I looked at Beau. He was a statue. His knuckles were white, gripping his e-reader, making me worried about its fate in his large hands.
He was still staring at me, and he did so for precisely five seconds after his daughter asked him that question before he looked at her, his features softening.
“If Hannah lived here forever, it would be with a man, and not a boy,” he said, voice thick.
It took all my effort not to stumble back at his words, to not crumble under the weight of them.
Beau rose from the couch, setting down his Kindle before walking over to pull his daughter into his arms. “But Hannah has a whole life ahead of her that doesn’t include Jupiter, don’t you?”
Beau looked at least six inches above my head when he asked me that question.
A life that doesn’t include us, was what Beau left unsaid, a five-year-old unable to comprehend the meaning.
“I don’t pretend to know what’s ahead of me.” My throat went dry, making it difficult to swallow. My gaze centered on Clara. “And I agree with your father, Clara, I definitely need a man instead of a boy.”
Feeling brave, I gave Beau a pointed look.
His eyes flared in surprise, and there was no missing the way his jaw clenched. My fingertips went numb, and I became very aware of my lower body, of the need unfurling there.
My phone vibrated in my purse, jerking me out of my stupor. I fumbled for it, reading the text.
“Lori’s here,” I said woodenly. “Sleep well, Clara.” I blew her a kiss. I didn’t look at Beau again.
I couldn’t.
There were no boys, or men, at dinner.
We did not go dancing, not that I wanted to, anyway. Nor did Lori.
Because she was too sick.
Morning sickness that, apparently, didn’t happen exclusively in the morning. It happened all day every day, according to Lori.
“We didn’t need to go out,” I told her when she came back from the restroom looking pale, nibbling on french fries as soon as she sat down.
“No.” She shook her head. “I needed to get out of my apartment. The four walls were closing in on me.”
Lori, beyond looking sick, also looked stressed.
Sad. It was safe to say that this pregnancy had not been planned.
The last time we spoke—well, the first time we spoke—she’d told me about her plans to work with UNESCO and document sites in politically unstable regions of the world.
It sounded badass, exciting, and dangerous.
Not something one could do while pregnant, or with an infant.
“How far along are you?” I asked cautiously, unsure of how far to probe into her life. We were on our first “friendship date,” after all, but she seemed lost, and I understood how that felt.
“About five or six weeks, I’m guessing.” She dipped her fry in ketchup, staring at it before peering up at me. “You’re the first person I’ve told.”
That surprised me. I liked Lori. We had become fast friends, a connection between us I’d only felt with Cole.
But I had seen her with the other women in Jupiter, and it had been obvious she was close to them.
They were understanding, progressive women.
I doubted they would judge her or offer her nothing but support.
Most likely more support than I was equipped to give since my life was a hot mess.
“Everyone else is married,” she explained as if she’d read my mind.
“In fairy-tale relationships that defy all odds, with good men who would do anything for them.” She smiled.
“And I love that for them, they all deserve it. But that means they have a skewed perception when it comes to any kind of romantic entanglement.” She looked down at her belly.
“They would try to turn this into the beginning of a love story with the father. Trust me, there is no version where I end up with the father of this baby. He already told me to get rid of it.”
I winced for her. And I understood why she didn’t want to tell the other women.
Like she said, they were living the kinds of lives I hadn’t thought possible with men who were the exception, not the rule.
It was wonderful for them but difficult to witness in the midst of a real-life scenario with a real-life man.
“What an asshole,” I muttered.
She nodded in agreement, chewing slowly.
“Do you?” I asked gently. “Want to have an abortion?”
She instantly shook her head. “No. I mean, I considered it. And if you look at things logically, it is the smartest option. Especially since I’ll be an unwed mother.”
I choked out a laugh, thinking she was joking. But her face was grave.
“My family is religious,” she explained. “One of the many reasons I haven’t told them about this. It won’t go down well. And I haven’t had the best track record with men.”
I reached across the table for her hand. “I’m currently fighting to get divorced from an alcoholic, abusive asshole who stole my identity. And now I’m having sex dreams about my boss who is a complete asshole and emotionally unavailable—so you’re not alone in that.”
Her eyes widened in shock at my word vomit. Then she let out a giggle. As did I. Before long, we were both laughing with an edge of hysteria. It felt nice, though. Cleansing. Laughing instead of crying for once.
After we got a hold of ourselves, I asked her, “What are you going to do?”
She sighed then shrugged. “I’m going to finish my PhD and have this baby. I’ll figure it out.”
The confident way in which she said it had me admiring her. I could feel her fear, her anxiety over this, but I could also see the trust she had in herself that it would work out. That she could figure it out.
She pointed at me with a fry. “What are you going to do about Beau?”