Chapter Twenty-Five
Twenty-Five
Hannah
I was breaking my own rules. Simon and I had been romantically involved for more than two weeks and had now known each other for six.
It was time to break up with him. Every single fiber of my being was against this horrible idea but I also knew that I was falling hard for Simon O’Malley and the longer we were a thing, even if it was just for the remainder of our time in the cottage, the more likely I was to get hurt.
And I desperately didn’t want to get hurt.
And it wasn’t just me. Dude had a man crush on Simon that was ridiculously adorable. Wherever Simon was, Dude wanted to be. Feeling the same way, I understood my dog completely.
Dude and I took a seat on the beach where we were filming some van life content. I’d gotten so many wonderful shots of the big boy playing in the waves, I’d have plenty to edit later into a piece about the beauty of the Outer Banks beaches.
I thumbed through my phone looking for the contact I needed. Nana’s name came up and knowing that she should be back from her cruise as of a few days ago, I pressed dial.
“Hannah-Banana, how are you, dearest girl?” Nana answered on the second ring with our shared nickname, which always made me smile.
“I’m good, Nana-Banana, and you? Recovered from your trip yet?”
“Not even close. It’ll take me another week, at least. Has your father sent you the pictures yet?”
“He sent a few whenever he got good Wi-Fi,” I said. “I especially liked the one of you and Grandpa George riding camels in Marrakech.”
“They spit. Camels, I mean. Did you know that?” Nana said it like she was still surprised, and I laughed. It was so good to hear her voice.
“I had heard that they do but only if they like you,” I said.
“Liar.” Nana barked a laugh but quickly sobered. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
“Why do you assume something’s wrong?” I sifted some sand through my fingers. “Can’t I just call to check in?”
“Because you don’t call to check in, you text,” Nana said. “If you’re calling, it’s because something is bothering you. Out with it.”
I hesitated.
“And because you’re calling me and not your parents, I have to assume it’s about Pops.”
“I didn’t know who else to call,” I admitted.
“You found out about Bobby.” It wasn’t a question.
“You knew?” I gasped.
“Of course, your grandfather was my best friend.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“It wasn’t my place to tell you,” Nana said. “There were circumstances—”
“His partner’s family?” I interrupted.
“Yes.” She sighed. “Your Pops so wanted you to be a part of their lives but…”
“Gramps’s son is an asshole who would have made their lives miserable?” I asked.
“Have you met him?” Nana asked.
“No, but I’m sharing the house with his son, who is nothing like him.” My tone came out fiercer than I intended and I cleared my throat. “His name is Simon and…”
“You care for him.” Again, it wasn’t a question.
I watched a group of sandpipers dart in and out of the water. As they scurried away from an incoming wave, I found their frantic run very relatable. Was that why I’d called Nana? Was I trying to outrun my feelings for Simon?
“I do, but we’re not serious. We’ve agreed to clean out the house together and at the end of two months, we’ll decide what we’re doing with it.” I paused and then added, “I want to stay but Simon wants to sell. He’s offered to buy me out and then sell it on his own.”
“Why?” Nana asked.
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to stay? Why does he want to sell?”
“I love it here. It feels like home,” I said. “But Simon wants to sell, because he has responsibilities and the money from the sale would help with that.”
“Oh, that’s a tough one. What have you been doing to change his mind…other than sex?”
“Nana, I would never,” I protested. “Any sex that’s happening is because the guy is smoking hot and I wanted it.”
“That’s my girl.” Nana laughed. “That being said, sometimes sex offers thick men some clarity of thought. I’m just saying.”
This time I laughed. “I have just two more weeks until we agreed to make our decision.”
She was quiet for a moment and then she said, “Your grandfather and I were very happy together, you know that, right?”
I felt the ocean breeze tug at my clothing while Dude snored on my bare feet. I thought back to the grandparents who had loved me unconditionally since the moment I’d arrived in their world. They had been happy together.
“Despite that love, we weren’t meant for each other. Your Pops had already given his heart away, and he would never love me like he loved Bobby. When Pops discovered Bobby had been widowed, he spiraled into a real crisis. Stay with me and the family we’d created or follow his heart.”
Her voice was gentle but I could feel the old emotions in it. My throat got tight and my eyes damp. I couldn’t imagine how confused she must have felt. “What did you do?”
“I told him to follow his heart,” Nana said. “Because, honestly, Hannah-Banana, I deserved better than second place in someone’s life. I wanted first place for myself.”
“And you found Grandpa George,” I concluded.
“I did,” she said. “If you find that love with Simon—the selfless love that I have with George, that your parents have, and that Pops found with Bobby—hang on to it with both hands, Hannah. Not everyone gets to find the love of their life and if you let it go, you may not get a second chance.”
Truth. Nana spoke the truth that I knew deep in my heart but was reluctant to acknowledge.
Was Simon the love of my life? Judging by the way my heart jackhammered around my chest cavity at the mere thought of him, I suspected he was.
But was I his? Or was I exactly what I’d told him I was—just a short-term situationship?
The need to see him was sudden and swift and all-consuming. I ended the call with Nana and gathered my things. “Come on, Dude, let’s go see our guy.”
We arrived home to find Simon sketching away in his notebook. He hadn’t let me see any of his work and I was burning with curiosity but a deal was a deal. I would see it when he was finished.
Still, I was human and I crept up behind him, hoping to catch a glance but he slammed the cover shut and tossed the pad onto the table with his pencil. Then he scooped me about the waist and pulled me into his lap.
“I missed you.” He didn’t give me a chance to respond as he kissed me with a raw hunger that made my insides liquefy.
“I missed you, too.” I gasped when he broke the kiss.
Dude, not to be neglected, nudged his way into the embrace. I slid off Simon’s lap and watched as he rubbed Dude’s ears and scratched his neck just the way he liked. Dude thumped his back foot in response and melted into a doggy puddle at Simon’s feet. I knew exactly how he felt.
Unable to keep from touching him, I leaned over the back of his chair and hugged Simon from behind so as not to interrupt Dude’s pets. Simon turned his head and kissed me quick.
“What’s all the affection for?” he asked. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“It’s nothing.” I shrugged. “I just want to hang on to you with both hands.”
We exchanged small smiles and I knew Nana would approve. Simon was definitely a man worth hanging on to.
Simon was up before the sun the next morning. I heard him moving around the room and felt him tuck my bare feet under the covers as if he was concerned that they’d get cold. He kissed me on the forehead and I heard him slip from the room.
The man had kept me up all night—in the most delicious ways—but after a day spent filming outside and a night spent in his arms, I was exhausted.
I awoke to the feel of the bed dipping and assumed it was Simon, returning. A big black snout nuzzled my chin and my eyes flew open to find Dude staring down at me. I closed my eyes but he wasn’t having it. He began to push me with his nose as if trying to roll me right out of the bed.
“Dude!” I cried as I prevented a fall by planting my foot on the floor. He cocked his head to the side in feigned innocence. “Don’t give me that look. I know you know better.”
He jumped off the bed and bolted for the door.
“Fine. I’m coming.” I shoved aside my covers and staggered out of the bedroom. When I reached the kitchen, Dude was sitting by the back door, his tail thumping against the wall. Clearly, he had to go outside right now.
I opened the door and he bolted outside.
There was no sign of Simon on the dock, the deck, or in his makeshift office in the dining room.
The light on the coffeepot was on and beside it was a piece of paper torn from Simon’s sketchbook.
It was the first note I’d ever gotten from him and I was intrigued by his very precise handwriting and charmed by the sketch of Dude he’d made in the corner.
I laughed at the dopey expression Simon had captured so perfectly.
Good morning, darling, (I could practically hear his drawl speaking the endearment)
Coffee is made. Dude has been fed and let out multiple times. Don’t let him fool you.
I have to go work on a project but I’ll be back later this morning.
X, Simon
I traced the sketch of Dude with my finger.
My lips curved up as I glanced out the window and saw Dude lying in the grass, playing catch with himself, tossing the ball in the air and letting it drop into his mouth.
Ridiculous. It occurred to me that this was the first house that Dude had ever known and I wanted this permanent patch of grass for him as much as I wanted it for myself.
It occurred to me that I had changed so much since I’d first arrived in Cape Split.
It was the longest amount of time I’d spent anywhere in over five years.
I’d been outrunning my grief over my marriage and my career for so long, it had become a lifestyle instead of a coping mechanism and it hit me that I didn’t want that life anymore.
The community I’d found here had allowed me to flourish, making friendships for more than a day, working on stories—like the one about the sea turtle habitats—that went deeper about conservation than just a thirty-second clickbait video.
It felt as if I was finding myself again and it was the magic of this place that allowed me to do so.
I took my coffee out onto the deck and sat facing the dock.
The heat was already beginning to rise and I could see the surface of the water in the channel ripple as a breeze blew across it.
I watched an egret launch into the sky and heard the songbirds chatter in the trees.
I tried to picture where I would put a vegetable garden and decided it’d be along the east side of the yard, running from the house to the marsh, because that had the best light for growing.
The thought of sharing something like that with Simon gave me a thrill.
I wondered if I could ever get him to consider making this place home.
Abruptly, Dude jumped to his feet and started barking.
Before I could call him, he bolted around the side of the house to the front.
Dude was harmless but he didn’t look harmless when he was barreling down on a person.
Fearing that a neighbor was about to have the snot scared out of them, I set down my coffee and bolted back through the house to the front door.
I yanked it open just in time to see Dude growling at a man in a navy blue suit with a perfectly trimmed head of silver hair. He held out his hand to ward off Dude, and the sun glinted off the snazzy Rolex he had strapped to his wrist.
“Dude, enough!” I ordered. For once Dude listened and he stopped growling and sat, staring at the man as if he’d pounce at my command if needed. It was very reassuring. “Sorry about that. Can I help you?”
The man looked me up and down. It wasn’t in a predatory way, thankfully, but it was definitely an assessment of my worth and judging by the way his lip curled ever so slightly, I was found lacking. Okay, then.
“It was my understanding that Simon O’Malley owns this house,” he said.
A million thoughts flashed through my mind. Who was this guy? Why did he want Simon? If Simon had known he was coming, he would have told me, wouldn’t he? Was Simon in trouble? Should I lie for him? Instead, I shrugged, giving him nothing.
My years as a journalist had taught me that people don’t like silence. When interviewing someone, I gave them plenty of time to fill the air, getting much more out of them than I would if I hammered them with questions.
“Your name?” he asked.
“Since you’re the one who is looking for someone, maybe you should give me your name first,” I suggested.
“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”
“Not really. I’m just a woman trying to survive in a misogynistic world,” I said. “It makes a gal cautious.”
The man’s curled lip actually twisted into a sneer. He gestured to the cottage. “This house belongs to my family. I suggest you leave before I call the police.”
That was unexpected. I studied him. His face was flushed as if he had a low simmering anger burning inside of him constantly looking for an outlet.
How would he know to look for Simon here, but then declare the house was his family’s?
That sort of toxic narcissism reminded me of the stories Simon and Lor had told me about… their father.
I returned his scrutinizing look. “Mr. O’Malley, I presume?”