22. Hannah
— ? —
Hannah
Theo asks me out on a Tuesday.
We’re at Eliza’s six-month checkup, and he’s just finished telling me she’s hitting all her milestones, that I’m doing a great job, that her weight gain is perfect.
He’s got this warm, easy smile, and his hands are gentle when he examines her, and my daughter, my traitor daughter, giggles at him like he’s the funniest person she’s ever met.
“So,” he says, handing her back to me. “There’s this Italian place on Wabash. Family-owned, been there for decades. Best carbonara in the city.”
“Are you recommending restaurants now? Is that part of the pediatric wellness plan?”
He laughs. “Only for my favorite patients’ mothers.” He pauses, and his expression shifts, going softer, more direct. “I’m asking you to dinner, Hannah. Saturday night. If you’re free.”
I should say no.
I should say I’m not ready, that my life is too complicated, that I’m still legally entangled with a man who broke my heart and keeps showing up with takeout and sincere apologies.
“Okay,” I hear myself say. “Saturday works.”
His smile could light up the whole building. “Yeah?”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I tell Griffin when he comes for his Thursday visit.
He’s on the floor with Eliza, letting her grab fistfuls of his hair while she babbles nonsense syllables, and I just say it. No preamble. No softening.
“I have a date Saturday night.”
His hands still on Eliza’s back. Just for a second. Then he resumes the gentle bouncing, his voice carefully neutral.
“That’s great.”
“I’ll need someone to watch Eliza.”
“I’ll take her.” He doesn’t look up. “The whole night. However long you need.”
“Griffin…”
“It’s fine, Hannah.” Now he does look at me, and his expression is so controlled it hurts. “You should go. Have fun. You deserve it.”
I want him to fight. I want him to say something possessive and jealous and wrong, so I can remember why I left, why I’m trying to move on, why this distance between us is necessary.
He doesn’t.
“Her bedtime routine is in the binder,” I say. “And she’s been fussy about the…”
“I know her routine.” His voice is soft. “I’ve got her, Hannah. Go on your date. Don’t worry about us.”
Don’t worry about us.
Like they’re a unit. Like he’s not just the co-parent but the other half of something I walked away from.
“Okay,” I say. “I’ll drop her off at six.”
“I’ll be ready.”
He goes back to playing with our daughter, and I go back to pretending this doesn’t feel like a betrayal of something I can’t name.
Saturday comes too fast.
I spend an hour on my hair and another thirty minutes on makeup I’ll probably sweat off before the appetizers arrive. The dress is navy, simple and elegant, the dress of a woman who’s trying but not too hard.
Eliza watches me from her bouncer, making skeptical faces.
“Don’t judge me,” I tell her. “Mommy’s allowed to have a social life.”
She blows a raspberry.
“Thanks for the support.”
Griffin’s condo is twenty minutes away, and I spend the whole drive giving myself a pep talk.
This is good. This is healthy. Theo is kind and present and uncomplicated.
He doesn’t check his phone during conversations.
He doesn’t have a mother who calls me a gold digger.
He doesn’t have a history of putting work before everything else.
He’s safe.
Maybe safe is what I need right now.
Griffin answers the door in jeans and a soft gray t-shirt, barefoot, looking more relaxed than I’ve seen him in months. The condo behind him is spotless, toys arranged in a neat basket, a bottle warmer already set up in the kitchen, some kind of classical music playing softly.
“Wow.” I blink. “You prepared.”
“I told you. I’ve got her.” He reaches for Eliza, and she goes to him eagerly, grabbing at his face with her chubby hands. “Hey, baby girl. You ready for daddy time?”
She squeals.
He looks at me then, really looks, and a flicker crosses his eyes. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean it. That color is…” He clears his throat. “You look really nice.”
The compliment lands somewhere in my chest and stays there, warm and unwanted.
“I should go,” I say. “I’ll be back by eleven. Maybe earlier.”
“Take your time.” He’s already turning away, bouncing Eliza on his hip, pointing at the city lights through the window. “Say bye to Mommy, Eliza. Tell her to have fun.”
He doesn’t watch me leave.
I don’t know why that bothers me so much.
The restaurant is exactly what Theo promised, warm, intimate, family photos on the walls, the smell of garlic and fresh bread thick in the air.
He’s waiting at a corner table, and he stands when he sees me, pulling out my chair like a man from another era. “You made it.”
“Traffic wasn’t bad.”
“You look amazing.”
“You said that already. On the phone.”
“It bears repeating.” He grins, and it’s a good grin. Easy. Uncomplicated. “I ordered wine. I hope that’s okay. They have this Barolo that’s…”
“Wine is perfect.”
The waiter appears. We order. Theo tells me about his day, a complicated case, a worried mother, a toddler who tried to eat a marble. He’s animated when he talks about his work, passionate in a way that’s genuinely appealing.
I try to focus. I really do.
But my mind keeps drifting.
Is Eliza okay? Did she take her bottle? Is Griffin remembering to burp her properly, because she’s been spitting up more lately and…
“Hannah?”
I blink. “Sorry. What?”
Theo’s watching me with an expression I can’t quite read. “I asked how your week was.”
“Oh. Fine. Busy.” I take a sip of wine. “Sorry, I’m distracted. First time leaving her with someone else for a whole evening.”
“With your ex?”
“Yeah.”
“That must be strange.” He says it without judgment. “Co-parenting with someone you used to be married to.”
“It’s… complicated.” I set down my glass. “We’re figuring it out.”
“Are you?”
Something in his tone makes me look up sharply. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” He shrugs, but his eyes are thoughtful. “Just that you talk about him a lot. Griffin. For someone you’re divorced from.”
“He’s my daughter’s father. He comes up.”
“He does.” Theo nods slowly. “He comes up a lot.”
I have no answer for that.
The food arrives, carbonara for me, osso buco for him, and we eat in silence for a few minutes. It’s not uncomfortable, exactly. Just weighted.
“Can I ask you something?” Theo says finally.
“Sure.”
“Why did you say yes? To this date?”
The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” He sets down his fork. “You’re beautiful and smart and you have this incredible daughter. You could date anyone. So why me? Why now?”
Because you’re not Griffin.
Because you’re safe.
Because I’m trying to prove to myself that I can move on, that I’m not still tangled up in a man who broke my heart.
“I like you,” I say instead. “You’re kind. You’re good with Eliza. You actually listen when I talk.”
“That’s a pretty low bar.”
“You’d be surprised.”
He laughs, but it’s softer now. Sadder. “Hannah, can I be honest with you?”
“Please.”
“I like you too. A lot. I think you’re remarkable.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “But I don’t think you’re here. Not really. I think part of you is still back at that condo with your ex-husband and your daughter.”
My throat tightens. “Theo…”
“It’s okay.” He squeezes my fingers. “I’m not angry. I just… I’ve been the rebound before. The transitional guy. And I don’t want to be that for you.”
“You’re not a rebound.”
“Aren’t I?” His eyes are gentle. “When you talk about him, about Griffin, you get this look. Like you’re still trying to figure something out. Like there’s unfinished business.”
“There’s no unfinished business. We’re divorced.”
“Papers don’t end feelings, Hannah. Trust me, I know.” He releases my hand and leans back. “I’m not saying you should go back to him. I don’t know your history, I don’t know what he did. But I am saying that you’re not ready to be with someone new. Not yet.”
I want to argue. I want to tell him he’s wrong, that I’m perfectly ready, that Griffin is my past and Theo could be my future.
But the words won’t come.
Because he’s right.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t be.” He smiles, and it’s kind. Genuinely kind. “When you figure out what you want, if it turns out to be me, you know where to find me. But don’t force something that isn’t there yet. That’s not fair to either of us.”
We finish dinner with easier conversation. He tells me about his sister’s new baby. I tell him about Eliza’s first tooth. By the time he walks me to my car, it feels almost like friendship.
“Thank you,” I say. “For understanding.”
“Thank you for being honest.” He kisses my cheek, soft and brief. “Take care of yourself, Hannah.”
I watch him walk away, and I feel… relief. Mostly relief.
And underneath it, a flutter that feels suspiciously like anticipation.
The drive back to Griffin’s takes twenty minutes.
I spend them trying not to think about what Theo said. About unfinished business. About the look I apparently get when I talk about my ex-husband.
Do I get a look?
What kind of look?
It’s almost ten when I pull into the visitor lot at Griffin’s building. Early. I told him eleven. But suddenly I need to see Eliza, need to hold her, need to ground myself in the one relationship that’s simple and pure and uncomplicated.
The doorman waves me through. The elevator takes forever. By the time I reach Griffin’s floor, my heart is beating too fast for reasons I don’t want to examine.
I knock softly, in case Eliza’s asleep.
No answer.
I try the handle, unlocked, which isn’t like him, and push the door open.
The living room is dim, lit only by the glow of a muted television. And there, on the massive sectional that probably cost more than my car, is Griffin.
Asleep.
With Eliza sprawled across his chest, her tiny fist curled around a handful of his t-shirt, her face pressed into his neck.
They’re both out cold. Griffin’s got one hand splayed protectively across her back, the other arm hanging off the couch. His face is soft in sleep, younger, all the tension and careful control stripped away.