Chapter 6
Chapter Six
JACK
“Did the contract get signed on the Hive Wire account?” I asked Chloe over our lunch with Roberto in our office kitchen.
He often cooked for the whole office, and today he’d brought in stuffed manicotti, salad, and fresh breadsticks. It reminded me of Vinnie’s, which then reminded me of Hannah. Someone I was trying to forget.
“Yep. I’ve printed a copy and filed it away,” she said.
I nodded as I took another bite of my pasta and watched as Roberto tucked a stray lock of Chloe’s hair behind her ear. She blew him a kiss and my heart pinched. I wanted that. But I also didn’t. That’s why I’d made the no-falling-in-love rule.
With it, I would never have anything to be devastated over if it fell apart. It was safer that way. But Hannah was the first woman I’d met who threatened that rule. Since the moment I laid eyes on her in that restaurant, blonde hair splayed around her shoulders, wide blue eyes, there was something innocent about her that spurred a need of mine to protect her at all costs. From heartbreak, poverty, sickness, the world. Everything.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It had been two weeks since she called and asked me what I needed, what she could do for me. No one had ever asked me that, except maybe my mother. It had struck a chord, and I’d gotten vulnerable with her. Now I regretted that.
She probably thought I had done something so awful that I feared for my soul. Which, if I was being honest with myself, was the truth. A deep truth that hurt too much to think about and I didn’t normally share with others.
“Manicotti! Why didn’t you get me? Is it still warm?” My business partner and best friend, Jason, stepped out of his office with his headset on.
“You were in a meeting, bro,” I told him.
He looked at me with a scolding gaze. “On days Roberto cooks, you pull me out of meetings.”
Roberto smiled at that. He really was a good cook. Why he was stuck here in marketing was beyond me. Maybe because it paid better.
I looked at Chloe’s fiancé. “Do you want to be a professional chef?” I asked. Maybe I should buy him a restaurant too. Which, of course, made me think of Hannah again.
Roberto shook his head. “For friends and family, I love it. For random people, not so much.”
“Careful! He might buy you a restaurant,” Jason teased.
My best friend knew I’d bought some girl in Willow Harbor a restaurant, but he was long used to my random gift giving, so he didn’t question it one bit.
“I have always had a deep desire to own a Tesla, though,” Roberto offered, and the entire kitchen burst into laughter, including me.
I’d have to get him a Tesla for Christmas. He was a good man.
Chloe smiled at me. “You’re thinking of her, aren’t you?” she asked. “Hannah.”
I swallowed hard. “Who?” I played dumb.
“Hannah with two N’s,” she told me.
The two N’s thing had made me feel pretty stupid at the time, but I hadn’t wanted to buy the girl a restaurant and spell her name wrong on the front sign. Turns out, there’s only one way to spell Hannah, and it always has two N’s, but now I won’t live that one down.
“The one in Willow Harbor you bought the restaurant for? Was she pretty?” Jason asked.
I said nothing, but chose that moment to shove a huge bite of manicotti into my mouth.
Chloe rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone. “Very. She’s got that small-town innocent thing going on. Here, I stalked her social media.”
She handed her phone to Jason, and I perked up. Chloe had Hannah’s socials? For some reason, Hannah didn’t strike me as the social media type.
Jason took one look at whatever was on Chloe’s phone and looked up at me. “Marry her,” he told me, and I took the phone from him with a chuckle.
When I glanced down at the square photo tiles, I swallowed hard. It was an assortment of pictures of Hannah. Some with her mom, others in her town at the lake, or pretty colored backgrounds with Bible quotes. It appeared she only posted about once every few months, so with just a few scrolls, I’d already gone back a few years.
Twenty-one-year-old Hannah holding a glass of red wine with her mom and a few friends. Happy Birthday hung on a wall behind her. What twenty-one-year-old drank wine on their birthday and invited their mom to the party? Hannah had. And it made the lifeless organ inside my chest start beating again. There was an ache there that hadn’t been before. It had been a long time since I felt anything…
“Earth to Jack.” Chloe waved her hand in front of my face, and I snapped out of it, handing her back her phone, which she’d been reaching for.
“Yeah, she’s pretty, but I don’t have time for a girlfriend,” I told Jason, getting up and placing my empty plate in the trash can before heading back into my office.
Hannah Phillips was the kind of girl who married the high school football star. They lived in a small country house with a white picket fence and had two children and a Labrador. She wouldn’t go for the tech billionaire with a dark past and a felony conviction.
I needed to get my mind off of her and back on work. That’s when I thrived, when I was busy.
I sat down at my desk, intending to do some coding, but my phone buzzed.
My heart nearly jumped out of my chest when I saw that the number was from Willow Harbor.
It was a text.
Hey Jack, it’s Hannah with two N’s. I hope it’s okay that I’m texting…
I quickly added her contact into my phone as Hannah with two N’s because it was a thing now. I texted her back.
Jack: It’s fine. Is everything okay?
Was her mom okay? Had something happened with the restaurant? My heart hammered in my chest and my palms grew sweaty.
Hannah with two N’s: It’s fine. Better than fine. The new chemo treatment your Seattle doctor has my mom on isn’t making her so sick! She’s able to eat!
I collapsed back into my chair, my hands slightly shaking. I didn’t know why I was so invested in this woman’s happiness, but I was, and that meant I cared about her mom, too.
Jack: That’s wonderful news! I’m so glad.
I set my phone down, thinking that would be the end of the chat, but then it buzzed again.
Hannah with two N’s: Okay, so I have a slightly kindergarten-ish question to ask you.
Jack: Is kindergarten-ish a word?
Hannah with two N’s: It is now, and I know a billionaire who can probably pay to get it put into the dictionary.
I barked out in laughter at that. Man, she had a great sense of humor. Most women were terrified of talking about my money, probably for fear that it would weird me out. And then it always became the big elephant in the room.
Jack: Ask away.
My text was nonchalant, but I was anything but. What did she want to ask me? And what the heck did it have to do with kindergarten?
Hannah with two N’s: Will you be my friend?
I stared at the text in confusion, but I couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of my mouth.
Hannah with two N’s: That day in the restaurant, when I asked you what it was like to be rich, you said lonely. Well, the truth is that having a mom with cancer doesn’t make you a cool friend-magnet either. I…need a friend. Would you like to be text pen pals?
Her vulnerability was so incredibly attractive to me at that moment. I hadn’t taken her for the girl who had trouble making friends, but I could see what she meant. She was probably too busy taking care of her mom to meet up with her friends.
Jack: So now you are telling me text pen pals is a thing too?
Hannah with two N’s: It is! You write each other back and forth over text, AKA textpalling.
Jack: That’s just texting. And textpalling isn’t a word either.
Hannah with two N’s: Don’t make me call my billionaire friend. I’ll have these words in the dictionary faster than you can say Hannah with two N’s.
I was full on laughing in my office at work. This never happened. At this point, how could I not be friends with this woman? It would be good for me. I could keep an eye on her but also keep her at arm’s length.
Jack: brB. I’m on hold with the people at Dictionary.com.
She sent a crying-laughing emoji, and that was it. We were officially textpalling. Whatever that was.