Chapter 10
ten
. . .
Bennett
I'm adjusting my tie for the third time when I catch myself in the mirror and force my hands to stop.
It's just a work event. I've been to dozens of these. Hundreds, probably. Formal galas where the firm schmoozes with clients and potential clients, where Richard and I make the rounds with drinks in hand and practiced smiles. I could do this in my sleep.
Except tonight is different because, Hannah's coming with me.
I smooth down my jacket and check my watch.
6:47. I'm picking her up at seven, which means I need to leave in exactly three minutes if I want to be on time.
Not that she'd care if I was a few minutes late—Hannah doesn't operate on the same rigid schedule I do—but I care. I want tonight to be perfect.
My phone buzzes on the dresser.
Hannah: Fair warning. I'm having a minor wardrobe crisis and might answer the door in a towel.
I smile despite the nerves coiling in my stomach.
Me: I wouldn't complain.
Hannah: You say that now, but your colleagues might have opinions about me showing up half-naked.
Me: Then I guess you should get dressed. I'm leaving now.
Hannah: So bossy. See you soon.
I pocket my phone and head downstairs, grabbing my keys from the bowl by the door. The drive to her apartment takes twelve minutes. I spend the entire time trying to calm the anxious energy thrumming through my veins.
This shouldn't be a big deal. Hannah's met Richard. She's been to my office. She knows what I do for a living.
But tonight she's meeting everyone. Partners, associates, clients. The people I've worked with for years. The people who know me as the controlled, focused attorney who never lets his personal life interfere with business.
And I'm bringing Hannah into that world.
Hannah, who dances in my kitchen and teases me about my jazz music. Who spilled coffee on me and laughed instead of apologizing. Who makes every room warmer just by being in it.
What if they don't see what I see? What if they look at her and only see the barista, not the woman who's completely changed my life in a matter of weeks?
I pull up outside her building and kill the engine, then immediately pull out my phone.
Me: I'm here.
Hannah: Come up. I need a second opinion on this dress.
I take the stairs two at a time, my heart beating faster with each step. When I reach her door, I knock twice.
"It's open!" she calls from inside.
I push the door open and step into her apartment. She's standing in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, visible through the open doorway, and the sight of her stops me cold.
The dress is black and simple, but the way it fits her body is anything but.
It hugs her curves, the neckline dipping just low enough to be interesting without being inappropriate.
Her hair is swept up, a few loose strands framing her face.
She's wearing heels that make her legs look impossibly long.
She catches my eye in the mirror and turns, her expression uncertain. "Too much?"
I can't speak for a second. I just stare at her, my brain struggling to form coherent thoughts.
"Bennett?" She shifts her weight, suddenly self-conscious. "You're making me nervous. Is it bad?"
"No." The word comes out rough. I clear my throat and try again. "No, it's not bad. You look... Hannah, you look incredible."
Her cheeks flush pink. "You're sure? Because I can change. I have that blue dress, or the?—"
"Don't change." I cross the room to her, my hands settling on her waist. "You're perfect."
She looks up at me, and I see the nervousness in her eyes. "I'm kind of freaking out."
"Why?"
"Because this is your world, Bennett. These are your colleagues. Your clients. What if I say something stupid? What if I use the wrong fork or laugh too loud or?—"
"Hannah." I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. "You're going to be fine. Better than fine. They're going to love you."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do." I kiss her forehead softly. Because I want them to see what I see in you. And anyone who matters will.
She takes a shaky breath. "What if they don't?"
"Then they're idiots." I pull back just enough to meet her eyes. "But for the record, I don't care what they think. I'm bringing you tonight because I want you there. Because I want to show you off. Because I'm proud to have you on my arm."
Her eyes soften. "You're really good at the pep talk thing."
"I have my moments." I glance at my watch. "We should go. The event starts at seven-thirty."
She nods and grabs a small clutch from the dresser. "Okay. Let's do this before I lose my nerve."
The drive to the venue is quiet. Hannah sits in the passenger seat, her hands twisted together in her lap, staring out the window. I reach over and take one of her hands in mine, lacing our fingers together.
"You okay?" I ask.
"Yeah. Just nervous."
"You don't have to be."
"Easy for you to say. You do this all the time."
"And I hate it every time." I glance at her. "The only reason I'm looking forward to tonight is because you're going to be there."
She squeezes my hand. "Smooth talker."
"Just honest."
We pull up to the venue fifteen minutes later. It's one of the nicest hotels in Silver Lake, with a grand ballroom that the firm rents out every year for this event. Valets are already taking cars, and well-dressed people are streaming through the entrance.
I hand my keys to the valet and come around to open Hannah's door. She takes my offered hand and steps out, smoothing down her dress.
"Ready?" I ask.
She takes a deep breath. "Ready."
I offer her my arm, and she loops hers through mine. We walk into the hotel together, and I feel the shift immediately. Eyes turn toward us. Conversations pause. I'm used to being noticed at these events—I'm one of the hosts, after all—but tonight feels different.
Tonight, I'm not alone.
"Bennett!" Richard's voice cuts through the crowd. He's standing near the entrance to the ballroom with his wife, Claire, both of them holding champagne flutes. "There you are. We were starting to think you'd bailed."
"Not a chance." I guide Hannah over to them. "Richard, Claire, this is Hannah. Hannah, this is my business partner Richard and his wife Claire."
Claire's face lights up immediately. "Oh, we've heard so much about you! It's so nice to finally meet you."
Hannah smiles, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. "It's nice to meet you too. Bennett's told me a lot about you both."
"All good things, I hope," Richard says with a grin.
"Mostly." Hannah's eyes sparkle with mischief. "Though he did mention something about you being determined to set him up with someone last year."
Richard laughs. "Guilty. But clearly that didn't work out."
"Clearly." I pull Hannah a little closer. "And I'm grateful it didn't."
Claire beams at us. "You two are adorable. Come on, let's get you some champagne and introduce you around."
We follow them into the ballroom, and I feel Hannah's grip on my arm tighten slightly. The room is packed with people—partners from the firm, associates, clients, potential clients. Everyone dressed to the nines, champagne flowing, soft music playing from a string quartet in the corner.
It's exactly the kind of event I usually dread.
But with Hannah beside me, it feels different. Lighter, somehow.
We spend the next hour making the rounds, stopping to talk with various partners and clients. And every single time, I watch her work her magic.
She's warm without being overeager. Funny without trying too hard. She asks questions and actually listens to the answers. She laughs at jokes and tells stories that make people lean in closer. She's completely, authentically herself.
And people respond to it.
I watch conversations shift when she joins them. Watch guarded expressions soften. Watch people who came here out of obligation start genuinely enjoying themselves because Hannah made them feel seen.
She fits. Seamlessly, effortlessly. Like she's always belonged here.
"You're staring," Hannah murmurs as we step away from another conversation.
"I'm admiring," I correct.
"Same thing." She glances up at me, her eyes soft. "How am I doing?"
"You're perfect."
"I haven't said anything embarrassing yet?"
"Not even close." I guide her toward the bar. "You're charming everyone in the room."
"I don't know about that." But she's smiling, more relaxed now than when we arrived.
I order us both champagne, and we find a quieter corner of the room. Hannah leans against the wall, taking a sip of her drink.
"This is actually kind of fun," she admits.
I glance at my watch out of habit—and then stop.
I haven't checked it once all night. Not once.
For years, these events have been exercises in endurance, watching the minutes crawl by, counting down until I could leave.
But tonight I've been so completely present with Hannah that time has simply... disappeared.
The realization hits me, she's changed me.
"Kind of?" I ask, pushing the thought aside for now.
"Okay, more than kind of." She looks around the room. "Everyone's been really nice. I was expecting... I don't know. Judgment, maybe? Like they'd take one look at me and think I didn't belong."
"You belong anywhere I am," I say quietly.
She looks up at me, something vulnerable flickering in her eyes. "You really believe that, don't you?"
"Yes." I set my glass down and take both of her hands in mine. "Hannah, I need you to understand something. This world—" I gesture around the room. "—it's important to me. My career matters. But you matter more. You'll always matter more."
Her eyes are shining now. "Bennett?—"
"I'm serious. I don't care if you're a barista or a CEO or anything in between. I care that you make me laugh. That you make my house feel like a home. That you look at me like I'm more than just the guy in the expensive suit."
"You are more than that," she says softly.
"I know. Because you showed me." I brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "So stop worrying about whether you fit into my world. You don't need to fit. You make it better just by being in it."
She's quiet for a moment, just looking at me. Then she rises up on her toes and kisses me, soft and sweet and full of everything we don't need to say out loud.
When she pulls back, she's smiling. "This is perfect."
It wasn't the ballroom. It wasn't the champagne or the elegant crowd or any of the trappings I thought mattered.
It was her. It was always her. The way she looked at me just now, the warmth in her eyes, the absolute certainty that she belonged here because I wanted her here. That's what made this moment perfect.
"Yeah. It really is."
"Bennett!" Another voice interrupts us. I turn to see Patricia Hendricks, one of the founding partners, approaching with her husband. "There you are. I've been looking for you."
I straighten, slipping back into professional mode. "Patricia, good to see you. This is Hannah."
Patricia's sharp eyes assess Hannah for a moment, cool and measuring. She extends her hand. "Lovely to meet you, dear."
Hannah shakes her hand with that same warm smile. "It's nice to meet you too. Bennett speaks very highly of you."
"Does he?" Patricia's tone is polite but reserved. "And what is it you do, Hannah?"
"I'm a barista at Brewed Awakening downtown."
I tense slightly, watching Patricia's expression. Her eyebrows lift just a fraction—not quite disapproval, but definitely surprise. The kind of reaction that says that's... unexpected.
"I see," Patricia says carefully. "That's quite different from Bennett's world."
Hannah doesn't flinch. "It is. But I love what I do. I get to meet interesting people every day and make them smile. That's worth something."
Patricia studies her for another long moment, and I can practically see her recalibrating. "It certainly is," she says finally, though her tone is still guarded.
The conversation continues, a little stilted at first. Patricia asks polite questions—how long Hannah's lived in Silver Lake, how she and I met. Hannah answers with her usual warmth, but I can feel the slight tension in her shoulders. She knows she's being evaluated.
Then Hannah asks Patricia about the firm's history, genuinely curious, and something shifts. Patricia's posture relaxes slightly as she talks about building the practice from the ground up. Hannah listens intently, asks follow-up questions that show she's actually paying attention.
"You know," Patricia says after a few minutes, her voice warming, "my husband and I met when I was waitressing to put myself through law school.
Everyone told me I was wasting my time, that I should focus on finding a husband instead of a career.
" She glances at her husband, then back at Hannah.
"But I did both. Sometimes the best things in life don't come from the path everyone expects you to take. "
Hannah's smile is genuine now. "I couldn't agree more."
Patricia's expression finally softens completely. "You're good for him," she says, nodding toward me. "I can see that."
"I try," Hannah says, and there's something in her voice, gratitude, relief, that makes my chest tight.
We talk with Patricia and her husband for a while longer before she excuses herself to mingle. As soon as she's gone, Hannah lets out a breath.
"That was... intense," she says.
"You won her over." I pull her closer. "I watched it happen."
"She didn't like me at first."
"No," I admit. "But she does now. Because you were yourself. That's all you ever need to be."
Hannah leans into me, and I kiss her temple. "You're doing amazing."