Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hannah
The store is empty as usual when my phone rings at the shop. I pick it up where I’m putting together arrangements in the back.
When I see who’s calling, I’m slightly alarmed. “Daddy?” He never calls me. It's always Mom who reaches out. I know my dad loves me, but he's definitely the strong, silent type.
Like Armando.
Dammit, why does everything remind me of Armando?
“Hey baby. Listen, I know you have something personal going that you aren't ready to tell me?—”
“Daddy, please. I'm at work. I don’t want to talk about it now.” I blink quickly to clear my already smarting eyes and jockey an alstroemeria around in the bouquet until it sits right.
“I know, I know—that’s okay,” he says in a rush. “I heard enough when you came over to put together that you’re pregnant and broke things off with that boyfriend of yours.”
I stop arranging and hold my breath. Suck it in like I was punched in the gut, and it stays in, suspended. quivering.
“Well, I probably shouldn’t have said anything to him…”
I gasp. Why hadn’t I considered the fact that my dad and Armando still work together? “What’d you say?” I lay the rose in my fingers down on the counter, unable to continue.
“Hannah, you’re not in any danger from that man, are you?” he asks sharply.
“From Armando ?” I demand with exaggerated skepticism. “No. He’s in danger from some gang, but no. He would never hurt me.”
“Okay. But he doesn’t know? I mean, he does now… I’m sorry, baby. It was pissing me off watching him show up hungover every day and not giving two fucks about the job when I knew you were crying your eyes out over this.”
I swallow. “He was hung over?” That doesn’t sound like him. It’s stupid to think it might be because of me, but my foolish heart wants to.
“I’m pretty sure he’s on his way over there now. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”
“Okay, thanks,” I whisper and close my eyes as I slowly lower the phone, my heart flopping wildly in my chest. Hope and anxiety overlap, weave together, turn me inside out.
Rational thought flees. I try to recount the reasons I didn't tell him.
The reasons it was important to stay broken up, but they disappear.
I hear the bells I wrapped around the door handle to let me know when someone enters, jingle, and I step out to the front, my pulse racing. The moment I see his haggard face, I hiccup-sob and cover my mouth.
“Hannah.” His voice is gruff as he crosses the floor of the shop in a few swift steps and comes around behind the counter. He’s going to wrap me up in his arms. I sense his intent as strongly as I sense his angst, his strength, his determination.
“Don’t,” I plead, holding out a hand to stop him. Because once I’m in his arms again, I will never have the strength to push him away. I’ll never have the will to end things. It will feel too right. I already know that. “I’m trying to get over you,” I choke out.
“Please,” he rasps. “I need to fucking hold you.” His voice sounds like broken concrete and steel—wrecked but so damn strong.
And of course, there’s no resisting him. I need him. I fall into his arms, and he pulls me against his muscled chest.
“I’m sorry, baby. I fucked everything up.
Right from the start,” he confesses to my hair, his lips moving the curls, his breath warm against my scalp.
He doesn’t ease the steel lockhold he has on my body, which is good because my legs stop working.
“I didn’t know going into this I was going to fall in love. ”
I stop breathing.
“I didn’t know you’d become the fucking heart beating in my chest. All I knew was that you’d witnessed me kill a man and that made you a risk, but there was no way I could hurt you or even pretend I might hurt you.
And all I could think to do was to take you home.
” His fingers slide under my hair, and he runs his thumb lightly over my nape.
“Fuck, maybe I did know, even then. Because after that kiss, I never wanted to let you go. I wanted to tie you to my bedpost and keep you for-fucking-ever.”
I realize I’m trembling all over. Incapable of speaking. I soak him in even though I resolved to be strong.
“Hannah.” Now he eases the arm around me and pulls back, cupping my face. It’s painful to look at him, but he waits until I do, and then I can’t look away. I realize with a shock he has a bruise on his jaw and dark circles under his eyes.
“I fucked everything up, but if you give me a do-over, I swear to Christ you won’t be sorry. I will figure out how to be your man.” He leans his forehead against mine. “Please let me be your man.”
I suck in a breath. “Are you here... because of what my dad told you?”
I don’t know what I want him to say—there’s so much packed into this, and it’s all twisted together.
He hesitates like he wants to get the answer right but isn’t sure how.
“I want this baby—” he blurts suddenly, dropping his hands from my face and shoving them in his pockets.
Giving me space. “I mean, if you do. I support you, no matter what. I’m sorry I freaked.
It just scares the ever-loving shit out of me to think something might happen to either of you because of me.
But I’m gonna solve that shit,” he vows, his gaze steady.
Firm. “I’m gonna solve it, and I will keep you safe. I promise you that.”
It’s the first time since he’s been back I see that old confidence in him. The guy who sat on top of the world. Who knows what he wants and how to get it. Maybe Armando just needed a reason to give a damn about life on the outside.
Maybe I’m that reason.
“Hannah.” His voice goes soft, and he steps in again, resting a hand lightly on my waist. “Give me another chance. Please. I’ll get it right this time. I won’t let you down.” His other hand snakes around behind my head and tilts my face up. “And I want the baby. But no pressure.”
His handsome face turns blurry from my tears. “I want the baby, too,” I whisper. “She can come to work with me. I mean, I’m my own boss. I can totally make this work.”
His eyes crinkle, and the corners of his lips tug up slightly. Leave it to our unborn baby to be the first thing to make him truly smile. A real, toothy, honest to God smile. “She? ”
I shrug. “Feels like it.”
His lips stretch wider. “She’ll be beautiful. Like you.” His gaze roves lovingly over my face. “May I kiss you?”
I let out a little puff of air because he sounds like we’re on a first date. “You’re asking permission now?”
His eyes crinkle again. “I told you, I’m gonna do it right this time. If you’ll have me.” He leans forward and stops with his lips millimeters from mine. “Say you’ll have me.”
“I’ll have you,” I whisper then push him away, right before his lips crash down on mine. “But you can’t break my heart,” I warn.
He shakes his head. “I’m all in, Hannah. And when I commit, I’m loyal as hell. This time will be good, I swear.”
I close the distance between our lips and kiss-attack him. He gives it back to me, like he always does, devouring my mouth, his tongue plundering, his lips taking, drinking.
“I love you, Flowers,” he murmurs when we come up for air.
My vision goes blurry. “I love you, too.”