His eyes roll to the back of his head on a groan. “I’m changing your locks and teaching you how to properly hide a spare key.”
My laugh follows him out the door.
When I leave the office a few hours later, my car is parked out front exactly where Rowan said it would be. I climb inside and he’s…everywhere. The freshly vacuumed interior. The full gas tank. The photo booth snapshot he’s wedged next to the speedometer—him kissing my cheek, me smiling like a lovesick idiot.
Sharing a bed or missing him from two-thousand miles away, I don’t think I’ll ever escape him.
I don’t think I want to.
43
love up to the rafters
Hannah
My home isa racket as soon as I step through the door. Water faucet on full blast, stovetop sizzling, voices chattering.
Dubs is the first one I recognize as I pad toward the kitchen. He’s waxing poetic over the plight of Lon Hammond inThe Notebookin frightening detail.
“Good night, Chuck, how many times have you seen it?” That’s Bri. If an eye roll could be heard…
He ignores her. “Tell her, Shaw. Tell her I’m right.”
A pan scrapes over a burner. “No can do, man. Never seen it.”
I peek around the corner and take in the scene before anyone notices me.
Rowan’s mom chops bell peppers on a small cutting board from her seat at the dining table, grin bright as she listens to three grown-ass adults bicker like teenagers. Bri leans against the counter, eyeing Dubs with a smirk. Rowan shoves food around a skillet at the stove while his friend, hands paused under the faucet, looks back and forth between all of them in horror.
I don’t make my presence known right away—not because I’m shy, but because my house hasn’t felt this full in a long time. Not since welost Gwyn and Maddy. Since before cancer struck Mom for the first time. It stings more than I expected it to. But it’s also kind of refreshing.
Dubs turns his dubious look on Tess. “Two Point, what kind of house were you running in 2004?”
Tess chuckles. “Don’t know, kiddo. The kind that doesn’t force a nine-year-old boy to watch a depressing love story where they both die in the end.”
Rowan aims his wooden spoon at him. “That.”
“What kind of house didyougrow up in?” Bri asks.
“My mother’s a saint.” He flicks the water off his hands, first in Bri’s face, then Rowan’s. “Agoddamnsaint, you got it? You know who else was a saint?”
“Let me guess,” Bri chirps, voice even. “Lon Ham?—”
“LoneffingHammond, the poor bastard!”
I can’t help the giggle that bursts out of me. Everyone’s collective gaze turns toward the sound, staring for a beat. I’m not sure what to do with my hands so I press them down the front of my pencil dress.
Tess sets aside her knife, reaches for her cane. “Hannah, honey.”
“Oh, please, no. Don’t get up,” I say, rushing over.
I lean down for a hug, meeting Rowan’s eyes behind her. He winks as he flops a dish towel over one shoulder.
“I’m so sorry to impose like this, but thank you for hosting us,” Tess says.
“No need to apologize. I’m happy to have you all.”
Dubs is next, arms flung wide like airplane wings. “Bring it in, champ.” I step into his bear hug. “Mamacita, you’re smokin’ in this dress.”