I unlocked the door, and we removed our muck-encrusted shoes. Molly was whining at the door of the laundry room. Hannah rushed toward the door and the dog she loved.
“Wash your hands before you let her out,” I said, and she changed directions to the little half bath downstairs.
I turned to find Brady removing his shoes as well.
It felt…personal…familiar.
We made our way to the kitchen as Hannah stepped out of the bathroom.
“May I?” Brady asked with a head wave toward the restroom.
“Of course,” I said.
He disappeared inside, and I headed to the kitchen to wash my hands. Hannah let Molly out, and the dog danced on two legs around my daughter, following her into the kitchen. Molly sniffed and licked and tugged at the beads on Hannah’s shawl.
Hannah giggled.
“She must smell the chicks on you. Do you want to change?” I asked.
“’Kay,” she said and skipped toward the stairs, holding her hat and her shawl, with Molly chasing her and making her laugh more. It drew a small smile to my lips as well. The sound eased the tension filling me since William Chan had said the word “foreclosure.”
Brady entered the kitchen with a grin as he watched my daughter and dog disappear. When he smiled, he went from downright handsome to some godlike level of gorgeousness. His eyes and hair were a deeper color than Darren’s had been, but he was still blond and muscled like my husband. His muscles weren’t the hefty SEAL ones Darren had sported. Brady’s were leaner, and yet still visible with the cuts and lines on display in the short-sleeved T-shirt hugging his frame.
I’d loved Darren the moment he’d saved me from the waves, and that love wasn’t going anywhere. But the man in front of me had woken parts of me I hadn’t been sure existed anymore. Parts of me I hadn’t been sure would survive the loneliness when Darren was gone for months at a time. The loneliness which had become a permanent fixture now that he was gone forever.
I turned away from Brady and my mixed bag of thoughts over both men to the refrigerator. “Can I get you a drink? We don’t have any soda, but we have water, almond milk, or juice.”
“I’d love a water,” he said.
I handed him a bottle, and when he took it, our fingers brushed, sending a rush of desire cascading through me.
“Thanks,” he said, leaning up against the counter before opening it and drinking half of it in one go. I watched his casual stance, the way his throat bobbed up and down as he drank. He was dynamic and beautiful.
I suddenly itched to paint him, my previous image of him on burlap twisting and changing so that he was now surrounded by fireflies or maybe Chinese lanterns. Him and them rising from a river in the moonlight.
The sound of music filled the air. Hannah was practicing the song he’d taught her earlier on the keyboard in her room—without the sheet music. This was all from her memory and her heart.
Brady’s eyes widened. “Wow…”
My smile widened. My daughter was wow-worthy. Smart and bright and way too sensitive, but full of goodness and light and music.
“The first time Grams sat her at a piano, it was like some part of her soul reached out and touched it. Or maybe the other way around…it touched her soul?”
“She’s got a huge future ahead of her if she wants it.”
“She’s barely five. I think she has plenty of time to make those kinds of decisions.”
If Hannah decided to walk away from music at some point, I’d absolutely support it as much as I’d support it if she wanted to become the next Bach or?as was much more likely?the next Stevie Nicks.
Brady nodded in agreement.
We sat there listening for a few more minutes before Brady brought us back to why he’d gotten out of the car with me to begin with.
“What did William say that upset you?”
I still wasn’t ready to have that conversation, so I turned back to the fridge, looking at the chicken I’d planned for dinner. There was no way Hannah would let me cook it now. I was pretty sure my healthy-food-addicted child was going to become a vegetarian on top of it all.
Ignoring his question that still hung in the air, I waved the package at him. “Don’t think I’m going to be making this today…maybe never.”
