Chapter 16
Janie stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Hannah move around the dining room, setting the table with a care that made her chest ache.
Hannah pulled out the good dishes, the ones they’d gotten as a wedding gift and barely used since the triplets were born.
She lit candles and put out cloth napkins instead of the paper towels they usually grabbed in a hurry to clean up the kids’ mess.
I should’ve never stopped seeing you.
The words echoed in Janie’s head, mixing with Maria’s advice from yesterday: When you have a quiet moment, tell her the truth. All of it.
Janie had promised. But the evening had gotten away from her as she eased into being together again.
The joy of choosing Carmen, the interactions with Hannah’s father, and the simple domesticity of cooking dinner side by side had enveloped her in their family blanket as if she’d never left.
When Janie had finally opened her mouth to confess, the words had stuck in her throat like glass, and in the gap, Solo had said the words Janie had longed to hear for months.
And now here they were, about to sit down to the beautiful dinner they’d created together, and Janie was about to destroy it all. Or lay the foundations for a new beginning. She smiled, acknowledging Maria’s optimism was beginning to infiltrate her mindset.
Hannah came back into the kitchen. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just...” Janie forced a smile. “I’m admiring your handiwork. It looks beautiful.”
Hannah’s answering smile was tentative and hopeful. “I wanted it to be special.”
The guilt fell in on Janie like the ceiling collapsing on her head. “Let me help you bring the food in,” she said, turning back to the stove before Hannah could see her smile crack.
Hannah carried the food and wine to the dining room. Janie grabbed the focaccia bread, and the rosemary and garlicky scent floated upward, reminding her of all the nights they’d shared this exact meal, talking about their dreams and hopes, as close as two people could be.
Hannah poured them both more wine and seemed to have to stop herself from drinking it down in one swallow.
Over the rim of the glass, Janie recognized the flash of panic in her expression.
Where had that come from? Was she pulling back after exposing her vulnerability?
That wouldn’t surprise Janie, since she’d said nothing and offered only a blank gaze in return.
Everything was moving so fast, like they could slip back into each other’s lives tomorrow and not skip a beat.
But that wouldn’t solve anything. They still had their core intimacy issue to address, and bigger than that, Janie had to confess her neglect.
Hannah might not be so quick to want her back in their lives once she’d heard the truth of it.
“Is everything all right?” She flicked her gaze to Hannah’s glass.
Hannah blinked and sighed deeply. “I guess I still can’t fool you.” She gave a half smile. “I’m worried I’m going too fast. I’m so grateful that you’re here, and I got carried away. Will you stay if I dial it back?”
Janie swallowed against more guilt pressing on her throat. Her behavior was making her wife paranoid. She picked up her fork and speared a chunk of chicken. “I’m staying,” she said. At least until I confess, and you kick me out.
“This is really incredible,” Hannah said after her first bite of the carbonara. “We should cook together more often.”
“We should do a lot of things more often,” Janie said, without thinking.
Hannah set down her fork, her dark eyes searching Janie’s face. “Like what?”
Like be honest. Like trust each other with the hard stuff.
Janie could almost see Maria sitting opposite her, giving her an encouraging smile.
Like not carry secrets that are eating us alive.
“Like this,” Janie said instead, gesturing around the dining room.
“Having dinner. Talking. Being together without it being about logistics or the girls.”
“I’d like that.” Hannah reached across the table, palm up.
Janie looked at Hannah’s hand, took comfort in the sight of all those familiar calluses from years of physical labor, and in the strength of those fingers that had held her through so much, including the birth of their three children.
This might be the last time Hannah extended this grace.
Janie took it and entwined their fingers briefly before returning to her plate.
They ate in silence for a few moments, the clink of silverware against china the only sound.
Janie’s mind consumed itself with the fear of voicing the truth.
Hannah talked more about her upcoming paint projects, though Janie couldn’t tell whether she was filling the space out of nervousness or because talking about her work instead of their relationship was safe.
Whatever it was, Janie was grateful for it.
She watched Hannah’s hands move as she talked and that familiar pull of attraction, love, and longing tugged for her attention.
This was the Hannah she’d fallen in love with.
Passionate, creative, and fully present when talking about something she cared about, this was the wife she’d missed over the past months as Hannah’s sole passion had become their children.
The conversation returned to an easier flow, moving from work to lighter topics.
Hannah told Janie a funny story about yet another of Woody’s latest flings and how it had ended, and then she talked about Lori’s dad wanting RB to join him in New York for a few months to consult on his veterans’ project.
They finished dinner and cleared the plates together, moving in that familiar rhythm once more. Hannah brought out coffee and the pastries her dad had picked up from the bakery.
“Living room?” Hannah asked, and Janie nodded.
They settled on the couch, closer than they’d sat in months.
They weren’t quite touching but were near enough that Janie could feel the heat of Hannah’s body, could smell her cologne and the faint scent of paint that she could never quite wash away.
“Thank you,” Janie said. “For tonight. For the dinner, for the conversation, for...seeing me. I know I said it earlier, but I mean it. I’ve felt invisible for so long, and tonight, you made me feel seen again. ”
Hannah set down her coffee cup and turned to face Janie fully. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I got so consumed by the girls and trying to be a perfect mother that I forgot how to be a wife.”
“We both got lost,” Janie said quietly. “I don’t think either of us meant for it to happen. It just...did.”
“But we can find our way back,” Hannah said. “Can’t we?”
Janie’s chest tightened at the uncertainty in Hannah’s voice. This was the moment. This was when she needed to tell the truth, when she needed to trust that Hannah meant what she’d been saying all evening about seeing her, about working together, about finding their way back.
“Hannah,” Janie said, then faltered. Her hands shook, and coffee sloshed to the edges of her cup.
Hannah took it from her and set it on the side table, then captured both of Janie’s hands in hers. “Hey. What is it? What’s wrong?”
“There’s something I need to tell you,” Janie whispered.
Hannah’s expression shifted. Her concern gave way to a flickering of fear, but there was also something solid and steady in her gaze.
“Okay,” Hannah said. “I’m listening.”
Janie tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. She’d rehearsed this most of the previous night in her depressing apartment. But now, faced with actually saying it out loud, her throat closed up.
“Whatever it is,” Hannah said gently, “we can handle it. Together. I promise to be here for you.”
Janie closed her eyes and tried to force back her tears. “You might want to rescind that promise,” she whispered, “when you hear what I did.”
“Janie.” Hannah placed her finger under Janie’s chin and tipped her face gently. “Look at me.”
Janie forced herself to open her eyes.
“Whatever you’re carrying,” Hannah said, “whatever you haven’t told me, I need you to trust me with it. Trust that I can handle it.”
Janie took a shaky breath. Then another. Hannah waited, patient and present and solid in a way that made Janie want to both run away and stay forever. “It was the Saturday of the memorial for Rosie’s mom,” she finally said, her voice barely audible.
Hannah nodded and didn’t say anything. No doubt she’d remember the two-day argument they’d had about Hannah attending it alone.
“I was so tired,” Janie said, the words starting to come faster now. “We’d been up until the early hours of the morning, arguing. And I’d had a month of late nights dealing with that nightmare IP case. You left early for the memorial, and the girls were fussy, and I just...” Her voice broke.
Hannah squeezed her hands but still didn’t speak.
“I got them breakfast and then tried to play with them, but I was barely functioning. I put one of their favorite movies on, and I sat down on the couch. Just for a minute. Just to rest my eyes.” She gave up trying to fight the tears, and the hot burn of her guilt tracked down her face.
“But I fell asleep. I completely fell asleep, Han. With three eighteen-month-olds running around.”
“Okay.” Hannah traced slow, small circles on Janie’s hand. “What happened?”
“I don’t know how long I was out. Maybe twenty minutes. Maybe longer. When I woke up, it was because Tia was pulling on my arm, and she looked scared. And I realized…” Janie clutched her chest, sinking deeper into her panic as she relived the day. “I realized Chloe wasn’t in the room.”
Hannah’s grip on Janie’s hands tightened, but her expression remained steady and focused.