Good. At least she has something to occupy her time. “Have a nice day, Hannah.” I kick myself for sounding like an affectless customer service rep, not a husband wishing his wife well.
That evening,I arrive back from taking care of business, both legit and revenge, to find Hannah looking stunning. She’s in another dress, this one dark and snug. Her hair is up, except for a few tendrils along her neck.
“Is it too much? Not enough?” She looks nervous.
“It’s fine.” The words are brusque, as guilt and annoyance at her effect on me takes root. Once again, I take it out on her.
I lead her out and down to the car. The ride is quiet, and I know I should be assuaging her nerves about a family meal, but I don’t.
Of course, my brothers are kind to her. Lucy and Jenna open their arms to welcome her. But as we sit for dinner, I watch Hannah fidget with her napkin across the dinner table, her usual confidence dimmed by nerves.
Lucy and Jenna try drawing her into conversation, but her responses come out stilted, uncertain. Not at all like the fiery woman who stood up to me at the house showing.
"The food is delicious," Hannah offers, her voice small. She glances at me, seeking approval or support, but I keep my expression neutral, taking another bite of steak Flint grilled.
I should say something, help her feel more at ease. But every time I look at her, I remember last night on the couch, theway thoughts of her consumed me. The betrayal of Meghan's memory burns my ability to help Hannah away.
“How is the house coming?” Phoenix asks Hannah, trying to bridge the awkward silence.
“I’ve ordered what we need. I’m looking forward to setting up a home.” She glances at me, and I see concern. Like she’s worried I won’t want her using the word “home” to describe our situation.
“Does it have a yard?” Blaise asks. “You know, if you need any gardening help, Jenna here can give tips, can’t you, babe?” My brothers are doing more to help Hannah than I am. Proof positive that I’m an A-1 asshole.
“Of course.” Jenna smiles and nods encouragingly.
“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. You have your own home and a baby on the way.”
I should encourage this connection, give Hannah something to focus on besides me. But my jaw remains clenched, shoulders tight with tension as she looks at me again.
“Of course you can ask,” Jenna says sweetly. “We’re family.”
Family. It grates on me. I stab at my potato. Meghan should have been the one here with us. We were going to be a family.
“What’s the house like?” Lucy asks Hannah.
Hannah goes into a spiel that sounds like what the realtor gave us about the house.
“Tell them about the art room,” I say gruffly.
Hannah’s eyes brighten a fraction. “It’s large. Nearly all windows.”
“You’re an artist?” Phoenix asks, giving me the stink eye for reasons I don’t know. Was I supposed to tell him about Hannah’s interest in art?
“Not really. But I enjoy it. If I’d gone to college, I’d have…” She stops herself. “Well… I have a tutor, and Ash says I can continue that.”
Lucy arches a brow at me. “He did, did he?” Lucy is the only one in the family who didn’t grow up in our world. While Jenna isn’t technically from a Mob family, she and her mother worked for my father and later the Keans, so she knows they operate differently.
I glance at Flint, wanting him to put the kibosh on any statement Lucy might make about Hannah asserting her own power. Hannah already knows how to do that. Or she did. Something happened yesterday that seems to have dimmed the light in her.
“The room is really lovely,” Hannah says, as if she notices the tension and wants to lessen it. “The light is incredible. I can already picture setting up my easel there."
“So you paint?” Jenna asks.
Hannah begins to share her love of art, and her shoulders gradually relax, her smile becoming more genuine as she talks about art. The way her eyes light up when discussing different painting techniques reminds me of how animated she was exploring that sunlit room in our new house.
I take another bite of steak, trying to ignore how her enthusiasm affects me. But my eyes keep drifting to her animated gestures, the way her whole face comes alive.
“And the rest of the house?” Blaise asks.
