Chapter 49
HANNAH
H annah was in the middle of a pleasant dream. She was in the stands at a sporting event amidst a roaring crowd. Something significant was happening; it was a clutch game and the teams were tied with just minutes to spare on the clock. It was cold though, the whole arena was frigid and her mind wasn’t registering what game was being played until the dream came into full clarity.
An announcer on a loudspeaker was calling out Ward’s name, and then Hannah saw him sailing onto the ice after single-handedly turning the game with a bottle-knocker, his knee fully healed, his face alight with triumphant delight – his passion for the sport palpable.
He was home, a returning hero.
He took off his helmet, shaking it at the crowd, and everyone went wild. She jumped to her feet and joined in, feeling proud, knowing she had helped with this, that he was once again able to play the sport he loved and the fans were eager to celebrate him. Looking every bit the winner that she knew him to be.
Then from the ice, his green eyes searched her face out and when he finally found her, he raised his stick in salute. She waved shyly as he flashed a mischievous knowing wink and even as she slept her stomach did a pleasant little flip.
However, just as Ward started to glide off and take control of the puck, moving on the ice with renewed determination, there was another noise.
A persistent ding dong.
Confused, she searched the arena to try to figure out where it was coming from, but to no avail. Then the sound turned to a loud knock, and Hannah felt herself being pulled back to consciousness, no longer in the cold hockey arena but warm in her bed.
Feeling discombobulated – and somewhat disappointed to have been so rudely interrupted amid such a pleasant dream – she blearily sat up in bed, shaking her head free of the cobwebs of sleep.
There was the knocking again. She grabbed her phone from the bedside table to check the time.
Had she overlooked a scheduled delivery for Courtney or something? she wondered, surprised at the early-hour interruption.
The Peacock chairs and other remaining furniture had arrived last week, so no she didn’t think there was anything else. And regardless, everything would have first gone through downstairs with either Julie or one of the doormen. Nobody else had access to the penthouse floor.
Nobody except …
Hannah jumped from the bed and threw on a robe over her pyjama pants and shirt, glancing in the mirror to check her reflection. Her face was puffy from sleep and her hair was matted across her forehead.
Great, Ed decides that first thing in the morning is a good time for an introduction? Or maybe he wanted to discuss in more detail the relationship advice she’d given him.
Talk about timing …
Though she did know many seniors liked to rise early. Her granddad used to be up at six every morning like clockwork, a hangover from his military days. But she really would’ve appreciated a heads-up. Brushing the rogue strands from her face and wiping the sleep from her eyes, she rushed from the bedroom and through to the entryway.
More pounding. It was borderline demanding now and Hannah’s heart started to race with worry that maybe there was some sort of emergency in the building.
She had a sudden vision of Ed being wheeled out on a stretcher after a heart attack or a bad fall or something. Pictured emergency crews lined up in the hallway, trying to revive him, and she felt her blood surge with panic. Maybe it wasn’t a visit at all, maybe Ed needed help and the paramedics wanted her to provide something crucial?
‘Coming, coming!’ she called out.
Reaching the door, she put her eye to the peephole – after all, she was a single woman living alone in New York. Regardless of the top-notch security and doormen in the building that prevented randomers on the street from wandering in and accessing the uppermost floors, you could never be too cautious.
However, as she focused her vision to see who was on the other side of the door, Hannah felt the little hairs on the back of her neck rise, realizing that the peephole was blocked – as if someone was purposely shielding themselves from her vision.
Her bare arms chilled with goose pimples and trepidation and she glanced at the locks on the door – the chain was engaged and the deadbolt turned to its correct position.
‘Who is it? The peephole is blocked – and I’m not answering if I don’t know who’s there,’ she called out.
And then she heard laughter. Familiar laughter.
‘Relax, it’s me.’
Her heart jumped into her throat as she realized she knew that voice and she looked back through the spyhole, this time with disbelief and no small measure of confusion.
On the other side was a tanned, blond and ridiculously handsome man holding a bouquet of roses.