Chapter Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Eight
Simon
I parked the Jeep in front of the house and jogged up the steps.
There was a spring in my step that I hadn’t felt in years, and I found myself smiling all throughout the day for no apparent reason.
I used to wake up, lie in bed, and dread the day.
Now I was up before the sun and eager to be working on the mural.
I felt whole again and I owed it all to Hannah.
“Spencer!” I called out. “Where are you?”
I paused in the living room. Usually, she and Dude met me out front.
I’d gotten used to seeing her wearing her floppy straw sun hat, a streak of dirt on her cheek, and wielding her gardening shears.
Maybe she’d moved to the backyard where I knew she was planning a vegetable garden and a chicken coop.
She was still lobbying hard for chickens.
I strode to the sliding screen door and saw her sitting at the patio table. The breeze was tugging long strands of her hair out of the messy knot she’d fastened it into at the nape of her neck. Her profile was lit by the early-afternoon sun and I knew I could stare at her all day.
Dude heard me or smelled me or something because he jumped to his feet and began to bark a greeting. Hannah started and turned toward the door. Her face was pale and her eyes sad. It was then that I noticed a thick stack of papers being held down by her coffee mug.
I slid open the door and stepped outside. It hit me then, a sense of foreboding, like the air when the summer humidity is too thick to breathe and you know a storm is coming.
“What’s wrong?” I felt my chest tighten with unease.
“Do you remember when you told me that if you had to choose between saving your art or Charlie, you would always choose Charlie?”
I nodded. “But I—” I began but she kept talking.
“It’s one of the things I admire most about you.”
“I adm—” I started to say but she interrupted.
“No.” She held up her hand in a stop gesture. “I wasn’t fishing for a return compliment.”
“But I—”
“You don’t have to say anything back,” she said.
“Am I going to be allowed to finish a sentence?” I crossed the deck to where she sat and pulled her to her feet. I stared down at her, trying to figure out why she looked so devastated.
“You just did.” She glanced away as if it was too hard to look at me. I felt my lips twitch at her sass, relieved to see my Hannah was still in there.
I cupped her face, trying to get her to look at me but she still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “What happened?”
“I’ve made a decision.” She ducked her head, pulling it out of my hands. “I’m selling my half of the house to you.”
I blinked. If she’d slapped me, I couldn’t have been more stunned. “The fuck you are.”
Her face snapped up and her mouth formed an O. I would have laughed at her comical expression of shock if I wasn’t so frustrated that she’d made this out-of-the-blue decision without talking to me.
Dude, sensing the tension between us, came over and nudged his way into our huddle. Absently, I patted his head. “It’s okay, buddy, I just have to talk some sense into your mama.”
“Don’t bother.” Hannah shook her head. “I won’t change my mind.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. She’d mentioned how I’d said I’d choose Charlie over my art. Clearly something had happened and I’d bet my last nickel it had to do with my father and his threat to fight me for Charlie’s conservatorship.
“Those papers?” I gestured to the table. “I assume they’re from my father? What happened, Hannah? Talk to me.”
She tipped her head back and her voice was thick when she spoke. “You’ve given me so much over the past few weeks. I don’t know if I can adequately tell you how much you’ve repaired the damage that was done to my self-esteem during my marriage. You healed me, Simon.”
“This sounds like the beginning of a breakup speech.” My throat was tight.
Her smile was sad. “I told you I don’t do long term.”
“This isn’t just a summer fling.” My voice came out harsh with fear and desperation. “Not for me.”
She shook her head, dismissing my words. “Your father…” She paused. “…made me an offer that I’m not interested in, but it did give me the idea that I could sell my half of the house to you, as you requested before, and you can then do with the cottage what you will.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I call bullshit on this idea. You’re sinking roots here—literally, planting gardens. You can’t suddenly be willing to walk away.”
She said nothing, but I could see her lips tremble.
I gripped her upper arms and held her steady. “You love this house and this community. You’ve made yourself a part of it. Now tell me what my father has done to make you walk away from this…from me.”
“If I don’t sell him my half of the house, he’ll take Charlie’s conservatorship away from you,” she said. “I can’t see any way around it, other than to sell the cottage to you.”
“What?” I rocked back on my heels. “How could he possibly think he stands a chance—”
“Some things have happened.” Hannah told me everything then, about finding Charlie outside.
About the poor and terrifying choices Charlie had made and about my father showing up, ready to swoop in and steal our home away from us, leveraging Charlie’s conservatorship to do it.
When she was finished, she looked so defeated and sad.
I wrapped her in my arms and hugged her tight.
I was furious and wished I had punched my father the day he’d shown up here.
But perhaps I would still get my chance.
When I released her, I put my hands on her shoulders and said, “You need to listen to me. I’m not going to allow you to give up your dream of living here because my father is a miserable son of a bitch who thinks he’s going to destroy our lives again. He’s my problem, not yours.”
She glanced up and met my gaze. I brushed her hair back from her face and resisted the urge to kiss her. Good thing, because she narrowed her eyes and said, “What have you been up to, O’Malley?”
“What do you mean?” I widened my eyes in what I hoped was an innocent look.
“I thought you wanted to buy my half of the house, but now you say you don’t want me to give up my dream of living here? You’ve been disappearing for hours every day and you say ‘it’s work,’ but I’ve heard that story before. I’ve tried to be patient, but no more. What’s going on?”
I felt like a fish on a hook and almost started wriggling.
This was not how I pictured this moment going down.
I’d had crazy visions of a tandem bike ride to the Scoop and champagne on ice waiting for us, with all our new friends gathered as I declared my feelings, but when Hannah met my gaze for a nanosecond and then glanced away, I saw it.
The vulnerability in her eyes caused by the betrayal from her bastard of an ex.
He’d taken her self-worth and even though she’d said I’d repaired the damage, I realized that now was the moment I was going to have to prove beyond any doubt how I felt about her.
I took her hand and said, “Come on.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts.’ ” I patted my thigh. “Come on, Dude. You might as well see this, too.”
“See what?” she asked.
“Nope. I’m not saying another word. You’ve already ruined it.”
“Ruined what?” she asked. I opened the door to the Jeep and she sat on the passenger seat while Dude hopped into the back.
“Wait and see.” This time I couldn’t resist and I kissed her quick and shut her door.
The drive into Cape Split was short. While I’d wanted to wait and show her when the piece was done, it was almost there and honestly, I was nervous and excited and a little sick to my stomach about her reaction. Maybe it was best to get it over with now and if she hated it, I could paint over it.
We found a parking spot down the street from the Scoop. Hannah was looking at me with one eyebrow raised in question, but Dude was just happy to be invited. He walked between us with his ears up and his tail wagging.
I stopped Hannah before we got to the patio. “Close your eyes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Close your eyes,” I repeated. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t trip.”
“What’s going on, Simon?”
I held her gaze. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” She said it without hesitation.
“Then close your eyes.”
With one more suspicious glance, Hannah closed her eyes and I guided her onto the patio. There were several groups of people enjoying ice cream and they watched us, no doubt wondering what I was up to.
I positioned Hannah exactly where I wanted her and then stepped to the side. “Open your eyes.”
Her eyelids fluttered open and she took in the mural that I had been working on every morning for the past week and a half.
I held my breath, waiting for her reaction.
As she took it in, her mouth dropped and her eyes got wider and wider.
When she turned to face me, I could see a sheen of tears in her eyes.
“You did it!” she cried, spreading her arms wide. “You painted the mural!”
“It’s not done yet,” I said. “I wanted to surprise you when it was finished, and I had all these plans, and things I wanted to say to you about how I feel about you, but given the circumstances I figured I’d better show you.”
I gestured to the wall. Tim and I had agreed upon a concept for the mural that would look like a bunch of photographs scattered across the wall.
I had done them in a more realistic style than my usual, but with a few fantastical elements thrown in, as it was my thing.
The photos were replicas of ones I’d gathered from our friends and neighbors and a few from Tim Larson as well.
I’d painted him and his father serving ice cream, Gramps and Pops fishing, and Luke and Bebe with baby Ava having a picnic in another.
Hannah’s eyes took in every picture. When she saw the one of Gramps and Pops, she let out a sob and put her hand to her throat. When she looked at me, the tears in her eyes started to fall.
“Oh, Simon.”
I felt my heart do a backflip in my chest. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for this woman when she said my name just like that.
“Hey, that’s your dog!” A little boy ran up to the wall and patted the photo that wasn’t finished yet. “See?”
Hannah glanced to where he pointed and her hand moved to cover her mouth as she gasped in surprise.
This photo was of her running on the beach with Dude at her side.
Her hair was flying and I could almost hear the laughter coming from her wide smile.
And there on the side of the photo was the back of the man she was running toward with so much love in her eyes. Me.
Now the tears ran down her face. I stepped in front of her and wiped the tears away with my thumbs. “Now do you see? I love you, Hannah Spencer. I. Love. You. And I don’t want to sell our home. Not now, not ever.”
“Oh, Simon O’Malley.” Hannah sobbed and leapt up, grabbing me in a hug that strangled. “I love you, too, and while I’m glad we’re not selling, I need you to know that whenever and wherever I’m with you, I am home.”
And just like that, I was crying, too.
I heard several people laugh and I knew we were making a scene and I didn’t care one bit. I leaned down and kissed her and I knew she was right. I would never feel as at home as I did when I was with Hannah.
I broke the kiss and hugged her tight, wanting to savor this happiness to the last drop. It was then that the note Gramps had written to me came back to me: Remember who you are. Finally, I thought I did.
Hannah and I enjoyed ice cream cones while taking in the project that had been consuming me.
Hannah was quick to notice the fantastical elements I’d worked into each picture.
The fish Gramps and Pops had caught were wearing Hawaiian shirts.
Baby Ava wore a dress made of butterflies.
The ice cream that Tim and his father scooped had comical expressions.
And the beach Hannah ran on was littered with starfish that watched her as she ran past.
Tim and I had agreed to create one photo as a backdrop for tourists to take pictures of themselves to post to their social media. I’d painted a sandy beach with rolling waves and a sea serpent at the horizon. The frame listed my name and had the social media handle for the Scoop.
Hannah shot a video of herself and Dude jumping into the picture and I had no doubt it would be featured on her platform.
I found it hard to believe that I, the guy who resisted social media stuff, was now weaponizing it to help me win the biggest fight of my life.
Taking on my father and winning the conservatorship of Charlie once and for all.
“Your father is coming back tomorrow to get my answer,” Hannah said. She was draped over my chest, delightfully naked, and she shivered when I trailed my fingers up and down her spine.
We’d left the Scoop and come right home.
Our need to be together after confessing our feelings had been all-consuming.
Making love to Hannah had always been one of the most spectacular sexual experiences of my life, but with the addition of those three little words, I love you, it became next-level.
“And we’ll tell him no,” I said.
“What about Charlie?” she asked. “We can’t let your father use him like this.”
“We won’t, because I have a plan.”
Hannah tipped her head to the side and her eyebrows rose. “I’m listening.”
And so I told her. I gave her the option to bow out if she wasn’t up for a confrontation, but my woman was all in. I hadn’t thought it was possible to love her more, but in that moment when we were united as one in the fight for the life we wanted, I fell even harder.