26. Isaac
26
ISAAC
I had to admit, the whole picture in front of me was terrifying. When the door finally opened, Hannah stood there wearing an oversized shirt that looked like a lampshade over her gangly legs. She had on a thick pair of mismatched socks. One had reindeer on it and came up to mid-calf; the other came up to her knee and was covered in pink and red hearts. Her hair was pulled back in a stubby tail, and she had sweat pouring off her like a waterfall.
Gross .
Her skin was clammy, but I could have poached an egg on her forehead. Still, she had the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen, and lips that I’d kiss any day—even with the sweat.
Without warning, I scooped her up and carried her up the stairs.
“Can you maybe give me a minute?” Hannah muttered, burying her face into my chest. “Just gotta get changed and fix my hair and makeup. I’ll be ready to go in a jiffy. I’ve just gotta?—”
The woman was delirious .
“No way in hell, Princess. You look like you got hit by a bus and then dunked in a pot of soup.”
That made her crack a smile.
“I thought a boyfriend was supposed to tell his girl that she looked good all the time,” she said with labored effort.
I chuckled and deposited her in the bathtub, fully clothed. “Remember when I said I’d never lie to you?”
She nodded weakly as I turned the water on and peeled off the sweaty t-shirt that was stuck to her skin.
“You look disgusting.”
Hannah groaned out a sarcastic, “Thanks.”
“Why didn’t you call?” I questioned, dumping enough body wash into the water to thoroughly decimate whatever cooties made her face puff up like a balloon.
“I was working.”
Anger pulsed through my veins. “You went to work like this?” I snapped.
Hannah’s head lolled back and forth. “Wasn’t this bad at work.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Han, listen. I can’t always be here, so I need you to take care of the most important thing in the world to me. You.”
She sneezed without warning. A glob of something bright green and gelatinous exploded from her nostrils.
I threw up a little in my mouth. No fucking way was I prepared to deal with this.
“You, uh… you good? In here?” I snagged a tissue from the box on the vanity and dangled it in front of her face.
Hannah took it and wiped her Rudolph nose clean. She closed her eyes and sank down to her chin in the water. “Please just leave me to die in sinus-infected peace,” she rasped. “Have the mortician make me look sexy as hell before they put me in the casket.”
“Glad we’re on the same page, Princess. Don’t drown,” I said as I dove out the bathroom door like my ass was on fire .
It sounded like she mumbled, “No promises.”
I pulled out my phone and sent out marching orders.
I left Hannah alone, changed out of my suit, and hung it up in her closet. My packing habits for Beaufort had changed drastically since the first night I spent with her. I was no longer concerned with my image or where I’d need to be seen. Instead, I planned for lazy mornings and lounging around.
Padding downstairs, I took stock of the refrigerator and pantry. She was on top of things as usual.
There was a plate of Christmas cookies on the island. She’d replaced her ridiculous bowl of lemons with a large vase filled with pinecones, cranberries, and mistletoe.
The house was warm and inviting. I imagined her throwing holiday parties and having friends over constantly. She was a hostess at heart, but serving everyone else and running herself ragged took a toll.
I tossed the gift I had gotten her under the tree beside a lone box. The tag had Isaac written in perfect calligraphy. I was half tempted to sneak a peek while she was otherwise occupied, but decided against it.
I fucking loved presents. I loved giving them, and I loved getting them.
My family wasn’t big on Christmas. There was no need to exchange gifts when we could all buy whatever we wanted any time of the year. But that wasn’t the point.
I loved seeing the look on Luca’s, Spenser’s or Alice’s face when I got them a little something that made me think of them. Until Hannah, they were some of the only people I could count on. It kept me grateful for everything they did for me.
I could only hope Hannah had people in her life who were grateful for her existence. From the look of things at poker night, she was surrounded.
I walked back upstairs and pulled Hannah out of the now lukewarm water, bundling her up into a soft towel. Her skin was rosy from the steam, and her eyes were heavy. She had thick lashes that I could have sworn were fake. But, to my surprise, they were very real.
She looked damn good like this. Wet hair, no makeup, and snuggled up against me. I kissed her forehead.
“You probably shouldn’t stay here,” she coughed. “I don’t want to get you sick.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Isaac—”
I wasn’t hearing it. Hannah could pout and protest all she wanted, but I could pin her down if necessary.
“Have you eaten?”
“You sound like Maddie,” she mumbled.
“That wasn’t an answer.”
Hannah shook her head listlessly and cringed.
“Headache?”
She nodded.
“Sleep,” I ordered as I laid her down on the bed—towels and all—and pulled the covers over her.
“I was trying to, but some jackass billionaire nearly broke my door down and then threw me in a bathtub.”
One sneeze from death, and she was still snarky. I gave her ass a pinch through the layers of blankets. “You sleep well, Princess. The house of petty says hello.”
The doorbell rang as I padded back down the stairs. I pulled the grocery bags off the porch and thanked my lucky stars that Spenser’s superpowers extended to making grocery deliveries happen on Christmas Eve from six hundred miles away.
I didn’t know who he called or how he made it happen, but I would kiss the man’s feet. Not wasting any time, I went to work.
An hour passed, and I heard Hannah stir. Quiet footsteps came down the stairs, and I grabbed a dish towel to wipe my hands .
The little klepto had stolen a t-shirt out of my suitcase. It hung loosely off of her thin frame. Her hair was dried in every direction. Hannah Jane was the most adorable tumbleweed I had ever seen.
She rubbed her eyes and blinked. Once, and then twice. “What—what did you do?”
I looked down at the kitchen island. “What do you mean? Soup is good when you’re sick. Right?”
She cupped her hands over her mouth.
Hell no. If she vomited, I was out.
To my relief, she laughed. “Did you raid the soup aisle or something?” Her lips moved as she counted. “Isaac—there’s… there’s twenty-three bowls of soup! I didn’t even know I had that many bowls.”
I probably should have stopped when I pulled the last ceramic bowl out of the cabinet and had to hunt for mixing bowls, food storage containers, and anything that could hold a liquid. I nearly upturned one of her house plants and used the terra cotta pot to hold the last can of clam chowder, but decided against it.
What was a guy to do? This was new to me. When Spenser asked if Hannah liked classic chicken noodle or chicken noodle with the little pasta stars, I didn’t know.
So, I told him to have his guy pick up one of everything. I’d figure it out when the order got here.
Now, we had a buffet of soups, and only two of us to eat it.
Hannah giggled. “You did all this?”
I shrugged. “Spense worked his magic. I just kept your microwave on overdrive.”
She peered around, weighing the options before finally settling on a gravy boat full of chicken and gnocchi. Noted.
I handed her a spoon and helped myself to a mixing bowl of tomato bisque.
After Hannah finished eating, I traded her empty bowl for a bottle of cold medicine that I’d swiped from her bathroom cabinet .
She shook her head. “In a little bit.”
“Han,” I groaned. “C’mon. It’ll make you feel better.”
“I know,” she said, resting her head on my chest. “But it’ll make me sleepy.”
I wrapped my arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Princess, take the fucking medicine.”
“I never know when I’ll get to see you again or for how long. I don’t want to fall asleep mid-conversation when you’re actually here.” She bit down on her lip. “I miss you when you’re not here, and I count down the hours until I get to see you again. The little bits of time we get together are everything to me, and I feel empty as soon as you leave.”
She gutted me. Wrecked me. Those eyes—they destroyed every last defense I had.
I glanced at the clock on her oven. “It’s after midnight.”
“Just a few more minutes,” she pleaded.
The woman could ask for the moon, and I’d wrap it up in a big, shiny bow for her, but all she wanted was my time.
“Why don’t you go out without makeup on?” I asked when we were settled back in bed. The upside of her nose running like a track star was that it tabled my sex drive, and we could hold a conversation for longer than thirty seconds. “You look adorable,” I added, booping her nose.
Hannah rolled her eyes. “I look like I’m twelve,” she rasped, snuggling in closer. “I need people to take me seriously.”
I adjusted the pillow behind my head and murmured into her hair. “And they won’t take you seriously without all that on?”
She shrugged.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong—you’re a dime piece. But I think that about you whether you’re all made up or not.” I kissed the crown of her head. “I adore both sides of you, Han.”
“My mother would beg to differ,” she yawned .
I managed to wrangle her into knocking back a shot of cold medicine—thank fuck. She’d appreciate that in the morning.
I was in uncharted territory. I had never gone this long without going to a strip club. Hell, I hadn’t talked to any other woman except the ones who worked for me.
I was microwaving soup and coaxing a woman into taking cough syrup.
Had I inadvertently smacked my head on a stripper pole? Was I living out some sort of alternate timeline dream while lying on the club floor with a concussion?
Hannah was in a medicine-induced slumber. Her little snores against my chest were the cutest sounds I’d ever heard. A few minutes later, the exhaustion of travel finally caught up with me, and I dozed off.
When I woke up, it was light outside. The gray skies held the false promise of snow, and Hannah’s phone was ringing incessantly. I rolled over, intending to turn the damn thing off, but my thumb slid across the screen and answered the call. Ah, fuck.
“Hello?” I mumbled, carefully sliding out from under the mountain of bedding and slipping into the guest room. I peered back through the doorway to make sure I hadn’t disturbed Hannah.
“Who is this? Why are you answering my daughter’s phone?” The woman on the other end of the line sniped.
“Uh, Isaac?” I answered, unsure if Hannah had told this lady about us, but from the sound of it, the answer was a hard no .
The woman hemmed and hawed. “Well, Isaac,” she said briskly. “My daughter was supposed to be here an hour ago, and now a stranger is answering her phone. There is an upstanding gentleman here who is kindly spending his holiday with us to meet and court her. So, if you’ll kindly put my daughter on the phone.”
Hell no, I won’t put you on the phone with Hannah while you’re playing matchmaker for someone else.
“Hannah isn’t feeling well,” I said flatly.
“I don’t care if Hannah Jane isn’t feeling well. Attendance to family functions is compulsory.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? It sounds like you don’t care that your daughter is sick on Christmas.”
“Hannah isn’t a child,” she said coldly. “She is a grown woman who knows what is expected of her. She wouldn’t dare sully the image of my family. I suppose I can delay things until she can get here.”
Didn’t her family live on the other side of the state?
“Sully your family image? Holy shit, woman,” I said with an exasperated laugh. “Who the fuck am I speaking to here? The Queen of England? I’m guessing not, considering I’ve met the woman and she knows to go through my assistant to speak to me. Go kiss an oncoming train before you ever think about speaking to Hannah like that again.”
“How dare you!” Mrs. Hayes exclaimed with an Oscar winning performance. I hope she inhaled the pearls she was probably clutching, and choked on them. “My goodness! I’ve never?—”
“Never what? Never had someone tell you what a selfish asshole you are?” I interjected. “What kind of a shitty parent cares more about their family name than their child? Newsflash: no one knows who the fuck you are.”
“Now, you listen to me, young man?—”
“No, you listen to me,” I snapped. “I’m glad you recognize that your daughter is an adult. I agree. That’s why her hardworking ass is gonna stay in bed until she feels like getting up. And then maybe— if you can pull your head out of your wrinkly ass and act like a decent parent—I’ll let you apologize to Hannah.”
Mrs. Hayes’s voice turned deadly, but she wasn’t nearly as scary as Hannah Jane on a wedding warpath. “I don’t know who you think you are, Isaac , but I warn you: do not cross me.”
“Who do I think I am?” I laughed. “I’m Isaac-fucking-Lawson. Unlike you, I actually am somebody. So don’t threaten me.”
“Well, I don’t—regardless,” Mrs. Hayes stammered. She may have been too old to keep up with gossip magazines, but she would know my father—or my grandfather. I inherited my fortune and penchant for the public eye directly from them—for good and for bad.
“And for the record, I’m in love with Hannah Jane. You’ll just have to deal with it, because I plan on being around for a long fucking time.”
That shut her up for a moment. Only a moment, though.
“I forbid you from ever speaking to my daughter again. You hang up the phone and leave this instant.”
“Good thing I don’t take orders from you,” I snapped. “Oh, and since you’re so concerned, Hannah’s almost on the mend. She just needed some rest and a fucking break from everyone else’s expectations. Like I said: oncoming train . Pucker up. Merry Christmas, Mrs. Hayes. I hope it’s a terrible one.”
I gripped Hannah’s phone so hard I thought it was going to splinter the screen.
Fuck that bitch.
I blew out a breath to calm the adrenaline pulsing through my body. Maybe I’d grab my sneakers and go jogging. I needed something to take the edge off.
The wood floor creaked, and I whipped my head around. Hannah stood in the doorway.
“Han— ”
“Y-you love me?” she asked. Her voice was still hoarse, but there was an unmistakable quiver in her words.
Okay, not what I was expecting. I thought she would have me drawn and quartered when she heard me berate her mother. In my defense, her mother was a bitch, and I meant every word with the utmost disrespect.
I handed Hannah her phone and shrugged casually. “Well, yeah, of course I do.” I cracked a smile and pulled her in by the front of the giant t-shirt she was wearing. “I bought you soups.”
Tears filled her eyes. “You mean it?”
“You’re not pissed at me for yelling at your mother?”
She shook her head. “Any man willing to yell at my mother for me is either out of his damn mind or…”
“Or?”
She wrapped her arms around my neck. “Or he’s the love of my life.”
Caution signs flashed in my mind. Sirens blared, and bells rang out an imperative warning. I dismissed them without a second thought and decided to jump head first off the cliff instead.
“Are you saying you’re in love with me, Hell Yes Ma’am?”
Hannah rolled her eyes good-naturedly. She nodded, and I pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I wish I could kiss you right now,” I admitted.
“I wish you could fuck me up against the wall,” she countered.
I growled and ground the hardened length of my erection in between her thighs. “I want that too, but I want you to get better first.”
“Stupid fucking cold,” she grumbled.
I chuckled and cradled her against my body. “Your mom hates me. She also tried to forbid me from speaking to you ever again.”
That made her giggle. “Good thing I’m fresh out of fucks to give.”
“I’m sorry if I just made things harder for you two. ”
She gently shook her head. “You’re probably the only person on the planet who can get away with calling her on her bullshit. Unlike the men they always try to set me up with, they can’t control you . It’s going to be a showdown when y’all finally meet, though.”
“You want me to meet your parents?” I asked. Nerves flooded my system. I never got nervous. I was cool as a cucumber when I was under pressure. But Hannah Jane talking about introducing me to her parents kick-started that intrinsic fight-or-flight instinct.
Fight , I reminded myself.
Hannah’s smile reached her eyes in the way that made them crinkle at the corners. “Hell yeah.”