Chapter 26
The sound of the giggling wakes me from my tangled dreams. I’m asleep on the couch, my pillow from my bed now under my head and a proper blanket is draped over my body. I see Winnie sitting at the counter and Tanner leaning across from her, whispering softly to her.
Rain pelts off the cloud darkened windows and the warm lamp on the kitchen counter glows over the now tidy apartment.
The thunder roars and I know, that when I’m eighty, this, right here, is what I want to remember.
No matter where I end up, I want to remember that life once looked like a warm stormy summer evening with soft giggles from my two favorite blondes.
“Good morning sleepy head.” Tanner smiles at me and Winnie turns in her seat. Other than looking tired, she is almost back to herself.
“Hi Mommy,” she says sweetly.
“Hi bug, what time is it?”
“Dinner time.”
“How are you feeling?” I ask as I sit up.
“Good, Tanner is swimming funny.”
I look over at Tanner, and he motions toward the glass bowl.
“Right, the fish.” I shake my head. “I thought you meant my Tanner.”
He catches the last two words and his eyes dart to mine with as much surprise as mine have, I’m sure. The smile that follows is spine-tingling.
“Well, that Tanner,” she points to human Tanner, “is yours and mine. Fish-Tanner is just mine.”
“So, you’re a fish mom, and a sheep grandma?” I cross the room to them while she nods surely. “Well maybe when the rain clears up, we can go get him a real bowl and some more food.”
“Can I put pink rocks in his tank?”
“Of course,” I tell her and kiss the top of her head. Tanner slides me a cup of coffee and leans back against the counter watching both of us.
Winnie suddenly begins to pout, her bottom lip trembling. “It was ice cream day too,” she says. “I missed ice cream day.”
“How about.” Tanner pushes up. “I go home, nap for a bit, then I can come back after dinner with ice cream?”
“You promise?” she asks.
He holds out a pinky to her. “Pinky promise. Tell your mom to text me what ice-cream you want later, okay Fred?”
“Okay Tan.” She nods and I walk Tanner to the door, ignoring the sadness I feel at watching him go, again.
“Get some rest. You deserve it.”
He turns and reaches toward me and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t help you to deserve anything. I do it because I love you both.”
I sit there for a long moment watching his eyes, looking for the lie. But I don’t find it. He turns and heads down the stairs with his hands shoved in his pockets before I can respond.
He loves me. It’s not a grand deceleration of passionate love, but somehow this feels like more. It feels like an anchor to this floating uncertainty I have been living in for years.
Once I snap my head back to reality, I’m running after him. My heart carries me down the steps and against my better judgement.
“Tanner!” I call out to him in the rain. The slow sprinkles have turned into big fat cold droplets that bounce off the cracked cement and our faces.
He turns, squinting back at me like every good romance movie I have ever watched. “Is Winnie okay?”
I stand there for a moment looking at him through the rain as lightning streaks across the sky and my heart thunders with the clouds.
I have no control over my own limbs or body.
In a few steps, I have my arms thrown around his neck, and his are pulling me into him.
It’s the safest I have felt in months, years. Even under a light striped sky.
“Baby, you’re shivering,” he says with his lips against my ear. “You should go back inside.”
“I wanted to say thank you.” I lean back to meet his eyes.
“F-for being there today, for staying awake so I didn’t have to, for driving and for bringing her favorite clothes, and winning her that sheep at the fair.
And bringing me clothes, and comfortable underwear and just—” My breathing is as erratic as my words. “Thank you.”
He slides his hand along the side of my face and tilts my chin up, making me squint into the rain. “Are you crying?”
I sniffle and curse the rain for not hiding it better. “I'm sorry—”
A flash of hurt splashes across his face. “Why are you sorry all the time Hannah? Why are you always apologizing when you cry?”
“He hated when I cried.” I shake my head, and he uselessly wipes my tears away.
Tanner takes both of his hands now and holds my face. “You’re allowed to feel things, Hannah. Actually, I think it would really help our situation if you shared what you’re feeling more often.”
“He said crying made people weak. That I needed to keep my composure or nobody would take me seriously. I spent years and years believing that.”
“Hannah Dorada, if you are what he considered weak, then goddamn was he out of line.” He dips his head to catch my gaze.
“You are the strongest woman I have met in my entire life. I have yet to meet anyone who has been through what you have been through and come out on the other end so kind and so—” He shakes his head, searching for the word.
“Sad?” A pitiful laugh escapes me.
“Grounded,” he says softly. “And compassionate. And good. And—"
I don’t let him finish, and I don’t let any of these damn insecurities and anxieties stop me either. I quiet him and my spiraling thoughts by placing my lips on his and it feels like coming home. Finding home.
The kiss is slow and exploratory. No speeding or fumbling, just slow honey thick tension we have been swimming in for weeks now. Tongues and lips work in tandem with my moans, his sighs, and the rain that isn’t relenting. His lips smile against mine before we both break away for air.
“I think that breaks at least one of your rules.” His chuckle rumbles against my heart. That damn necklace that I love presses into my cheek as his arms wrap around my shoulders.
“I said no almost kissing. I don’t think I said anything about actual kissing.”
A crack of thunder causes me to flinch, and for Tanner to hold me closer.
“You should go,” I tell him. “You need to sleep and I need a shower.”
He dips his head, meeting his lips with mine once more before turning to his truck. Only when I turn back toward the apartment do I see Winnie’s little face pressed up against the balcony door, her breath fogging the glass.
“So, is he your boyfriend now?” she asks when I come back inside, dripping wet.
I wring my hair out with a kitchen towel. “It’s starting to look like that, isn’t it?”