“I can hear you, Mom.” Oh good, I could still speak.
She turned to me and stuck her hands on her hips. “Now I’m not saying my boys weren’t everything to me, but it is fun to have Abby to shop for. I’d shop for your kids too if you had some,” she scolded.
“I was telling him earlier Abby needs some cousins.” Hannah turned and gave me a wicked smile over her shoulder. “Make that happen already, why don’t you?”
I grimaced and took another swallow of scotch. Just what I needed—Hannah and my mother united in their nagging at me to procreate.
“Abby,” my mother said, “let’s go up and you can take a bath in the big tub in my bathroom. Would you like that?”
“Yes.” The little girl jumped to her feet, brushing sand off her hands and knees.
“And then you can put on your princess nightgown and I’ll read you a story if you’re not worn slap out.”
“I’ll get the toys put away down here. Do you need help getting her into the bath?” Hannah asked.
My mother dismissed that idea with a wave of her hand and headed for the steps, Abby in tow. “Not at all.”
While Hannah texted her sitter, I started gathering up buckets and shovels and adding them to the big plastic laundry basket my mother used to keep them all corralled. Hannah joined me a couple minutes later, scooping up brightly-colored molds of fish and mermaids and castle walls. If she felt strange about what she’d done a few minutes ago, she didn’t let on. Maybe I was making more of the gesture than was warranted. Maybe I’d even imagined it.
“Are you proud of me?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She sighed dramatically. “I decided today after our chat that I should try harder with Lenore. I know she means well.”
“Good. Get everything settled with your sitter?”
“Yes. All set. She’s probably glad to have the day off. It’s supposed to be beautiful again tomorrow, although it looks like it might rain tonight.” She glanced at the sky.
“If you want to hang out on the beach after work when you come to get Abby, feel free.” But I sort of hoped she wouldn’t.
“Thanks. Maybe I will.”
When the toys were all in the bin, I took a bucket out again and headed for the lake to fill it up. “You can go up if you want. I’m just going to put out the fire.”
But she didn’t go up. She stood and watched as I doused the remains of the fire, her arms crossed over her chest. I wished I’d put my shirt back on. I felt her eyes on me through the smoke. They wandered over my shoulders and chest and stomach, but when they moved lower than that, she caught herself and looked down at her feet, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
Hannah, you’re killing me. Don’t look at me that way. You don’t really mean it. When the smoke clears, I’m not who you want. I’m not him.
Neither of us spoke. The sky above us darkened unexpectedly, and thunder rolled softly in the distance.
You shouldn’t be alone with her like this.
“Sounds like a storm. You should go up,” I told her.
“I’ll wait with you. I don’t mind.”
“Hannah.” My voice was stern. “Go up.”
A pause. “Okay. Goodnight.”
Quickly, she gathered her things—bag, towel, flip flops—and disappeared up the steps.
I exhaled.
Later, as I lay in bed feeling despicable and shitty, listening to a summer rain drum against the roof, I replayed the memory of her hand in my hair a thousand times. The slow drag of her fingers, the warmth in her eyes, the hushed voice. I thought about how she’d looked at me by the fire and the dangerous way it made me feel. I wish I knew what she’d been thinking.
She was thinking about her husband, jerkoff. Remember him? Your brother? Maybe she was even pretending you were him.
That had to be it. I couldn’t even blame her. But God, I wished things were different.
Rolling to my back, I put my hands behind my head and stared at the ceiling for a moment before closing my eyes.
There she was. Smiling and soft and sweet and reaching for me. Me. Finding ease in my kiss. Seeking pleasure in my body. Whispering my name in the dark.
My cock started to stiffen, and I suppressed the urge to take it in my hand.
How many nights had I refused to let that fantasy take root in my mind because it was so wrong? A hundred? A thousand? It’s still wrong. Nothing has changed. She doesn’t belong to you. She never has, and she never will.
I had to get over this. But how? Avoid seeing her? That wouldn’t work. Earlier today I’d campaigned to see each other more often, and now she agreed with me.
Maybe it would go away on its own. Maybe I simply had to get used to being around her again, desensitize myself to her charms. Maybe spending time with her would be sort of like allergy shots. Immunotherapy for the heart.
And other parts of my body that like to come alive around her.
Groaning, I rolled onto my side, punched my pillow a few times, and went to sleep.
Seven
HANNAH
After saying good goodnight to Abby, I left my in-laws’ house and called Tess on my way home.
“How was it?” she asked by way of greeting.
“Fine.” I smiled, even though she couldn’t see it. “It was fine, and I’m not even lying.”
She laughed. “Good.”
“Actually, you know what? It was better than fine. I had the best day I’ve had in months. I felt…happy. I think everyone did.”
“That’s great, Hannah.”
“I won’t say it isn’t hard to deal with the fact that Wes looks exactly like the dead man I’m in love with, and there may have been some covert staring and borderline-inappropriate touching of his hair—”
“What?” She coughed. “You just made me choke on my wine.”
Wincing a little, I tried to explain myself. “I just really loved Drew’s hair. And Wes wears his the same way. I’ve been dying to run my fingers through it. Like a comfort thing, I guess. Finally I just reached out and did it. It was almost involuntary, I swear to God.”
“Did anyone see?”
“No. Only Abby was on the beach with us at that point, and she wasn’t looking.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing. I think he was kind of stunned, but I also think he gets it. He gets me, you know? It’s almost eerie how well he understands my feelings.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I’m so happy for you. You’re even giving me hope. Maybe they aren’t all lying when they say, ‘It gets easier.’”
I laughed sympathetically. “Maybe they aren’t. That’s what it felt like today, anyway.”
“That’s all that matters.”
“You look pretty today,” Georgia told me at work the next morning. “I mean, you’re pretty every day, but you look especially glowy this morning.”
“Thanks.” I tied an apron around me and began gathering ingredients for spinach, ricotta, and bacon crepes. “Must be the sun I got yesterday. Or maybe the good night’s sleep.”
“A good night’s sleep.” Margot shook her head wistfully as she poured herself a cup of coffee. Beneath her blue eyes were the puffy bags worn by all new moms. “I remember those. Tell me I’ll have one again someday.”
“You will,” I said. “In about eighteen years. The only reason I managed to grab eight straight hours last night was because Abby slept at her grandparents’ house. Most nights she wakes me up at least once for something or other.”
“Did you guys have fun yesterday?” Georgia asked.
“We did. I’m so glad we went.” In fact, all I could think about was getting back there today. I’d brought my beach bag with me to work, figuring I might as well take Wes up on his invitation to hang out at the beach a little this afternoon.
The morning passed quickly since we were so busy, and the crepes were especially popular. Because I thought Wes might like to try the
m, I made an extra batch up after the last order from the dining room had been filled and put them in a container for him. Just after two, I said goodbye to Georgia and Margot and hurried out the door.
Despite the rain the night before, the weather today was hot and sunny, only a few puffy white clouds in the sky. I opened the sunroof on my Honda, tuned into a satellite radio station playing old standards and sang along as I drove, windows down, breeze rushing through my hair. It was the closest to happy I’d felt in a long time.
Wes answered my knock, smiling broadly when he saw me. “Hey, you. Come on in. How was work?”
“Good. Busy.” I went inside and held out the container. “I brought you something.”
“You did? What?”
“Spinach, ricotta, and bacon crepes. They were really popular today, and I thought you might like them.”
His eyes lit up. “My mouth is watering. Can I taste them?”
I laughed. “Yes! They’re yours. You don’t have to eat them now, but—”
“I’m eating them now.” He’d grabbed them and was already on his way into the kitchen. “This is perfect. I just came up to get something to eat.”
“Where is everybody?” I followed him, glancing around the quiet house.
“They’re all down on the beach. My mom got Abby a little fishing pole and my dad is showing her how to use it.” He took a fork from a drawer, set the container on the marble-topped island, and pried off the top. “Damn, that looks good. Wait, I should warm it up, right?”
“Here, I’ll do it.” I stuck the container in the microwave and nuked it for twenty seconds before setting it in front of him again. “There you go. Bon appetit.”
He dug in, moaning as he chewed the first bite.
I smiled. “You like them?”
“Are you kidding? God, between your cooking and my mother’s, I’m going to gain ten pounds in a month.”
“I doubt that.”
“Have you eaten? Share this with me.” Without waiting for me to answer, he grabbed another fork from the drawer and stuck it in my hand.
Normally I wouldn’t have, but I’d skipped lunch, and I was feeling unusually hungry. “Thanks.”
We ate standing next to each other at the island, and he told me about how much fun he had reading Abby a story, eating the breakfast she helped make this morning (chocolate chip pancakes with bananas), and looking through the old photo albums with her. “She loved the ones of Drew and me from kindergarten. She’s so excited to go.”
I nodded, then shoved the thought aside as I rinsed my fork and put it in the dishwasher. I’d deal with the kindergarten thing eventually, but not today. “I’m just going to throw my suit on,” I said, grabbing my bag and heading for the first floor bathroom, which Lenore called the “powder room.”
“Okay. Want me to wait for you?”
“No, that’s okay. You can go down.”
Since the suit I’d worn yesterday was dirty, I’d brought a different one today. A two-piece. It was still modest by any standards, sort of a retro style with a high-waist bottom and a halter-style top that covered my chest completely. I did a quick assessment in the mirror, turning side to side. I wished I filled out my suit a little better, but I agreed with Georgia that a little sun on my face did wonders. I smoothed my ponytail, noticing the ends were pretty scraggly. I couldn’t even remember my last trip to the salon. Definitely time for a trim. Leaning closer to my reflection, I inspected a couple lines around my eyes I hadn’t noticed before and rubbed my lips together, wishing I’d brought along a lipstick.
What the hell are you doing? Why would you need lipstick at the beach?
As if I’d been caught misbehaving, I straightened up, snapped off the light, and hurried down to the beach. Why did I suddenly care about my appearance? And why did I feel guilty about it? Wouldn’t it be a positive sign if I put a little more effort into looking nice?
Not if it’s because of Wes.
Fuck. Was it? I stopped halfway down the steps. My eyes went first to Abby, who was standing ankle-deep in the water next to Dr. Parks, and then to Wes, who was dragging the canoe toward the lake’s edge. He’d taken his shirt off. My insides tightened, and I touched my stomach.
Just keep looking at him, I reminded myself. The more you do it, the less effect his appearance will have on you.
Except…I kind of liked the effect. How long had it been since I’d felt the long, slow pull of desire? Since I’d considered my body something other than a vessel for my emotions? Since I’d felt like a woman and not simply a widow?
A long fucking time.
And even though it was wrong of me to want to hold on to it for a little longer, given who was inspiring the feeling, I did. God help me, I did.
He looked up and saw me. “Hey, Abby and I were just going to go for a ride. Want to join us?” he called.
“Definitely!” I jogged the rest of the way down the steps. “Let me just get some sunscreen on.”
Dr. Parks greeted me with a wave. “Hi, honey.”
“Hi, Doc.”
“Mommy!” Abby came running over and threw her arms around my legs.
“Hi, baby! I missed you! Did you have a good time?” I ruffled her damp hair.
“Yes! Nana and I made pancakes, and Papa is teaching me to fish.”
“Fun!” She went back into the water, and I walked over to where Lenore was sitting under a big red umbrella. “Hi, Lenore.”
“Hello, dear.” Lenore looked at my swimsuit a little too long. “Make sure you put some sunscreen on that tummy. Are you sure you shouldn’t wear a shirt over that suit? I don’t want you to get burned.”
“I’ll be fine.” Pulling a tube of lotion from my bag, I rubbed some SPF 30 all over my face and chest.
“Only 30? Are you going to wear a hat, too? Oh, but then I guess you’ve got that olive complexion.” She clucked her tongue. “I always had to be so careful because I was so fair. Had that peaches n’ cream skin, just like Abby does. Abby,” she called out. “Come over here and let Nana put a little more sunscreen on you! I tried to get her to wear a hat today since she had so much sun yesterday, but she’s got quite a little stubborn streak, doesn’t she? Just like her daddy.”
Abby did have a stubborn streak, but I didn’t particularly feel like agreeing with Lenore on anything at the moment, so I stayed silent. Part of me wanted to put more sunscreen on Abby myself, but I let that go too, focusing instead on spraying my own arms and legs and stomach.
“Here, let me get your back.”
I turned around, and Wes was standing there. “Um. Okay.” Handing him the can, I presented my back to him, hoping my face wasn’t flushed bright red. What the hell? It’s not like he’s going to give you a massage. It’s fucking sunscreen.
Still.
Wes sprayed my upper and lower back, and I’d have sworn you could hear my skin sizzle. “Want to lift up your hair and I’ll get your neck?”
I held my ponytail on top of my head while he sprayed my neck and shoulders.
“I smell cake. Is that your hair or the sunscreen?” He laughed. “Or do I just want dessert?”
My heart was pounding. “My shampoo, maybe?”
He came closer and sniffed my head. “Yeah, that’s it. Smells good.”
Next thing I knew, I felt his fingertips brushing down one shoulder blade. Too quickly to be called a caress, but too slowly to be ruled an accident.
I dropped my arms and turned around, but his expression gave nothing away. He smiled as he handed me back the can of sunscreen. I bent down and stuck it back in my bag, taking an extra moment to process what had just happened.
He touched me. And I liked it.
It made me feel pretty. And admired. And flattered. Things I hadn’t felt in forever. Things I’d never thought I’d feel again.
“If you’re hungry, I’d be happy to make you a plate, Wes.” Lenore finished rubbing lotion onto Abby’s scrunched-up face and recapped the tube. “It will just take a minu
te.”
“No thanks, Mom.”
“But you didn’t eat lunch yet, did you?”
“Actually, I did. Hannah brought something from the inn. It was delicious.”
“You didn’t tell me that.” Lenore sounded injured.
“Sorry, Mom. I’m a guy. We tend to eat and move on to the next thing. Ready to go, Abby?” he asked.
“Yes! Mommy, will you come too?” Abby’s voice yanked me out of my daze.
“Sure I will.” I stood up. My skin was still tingling from his touch.
“What was it?” Lenore asked.
Wes looked at me. “Uh…”
I smiled at his guilty expression. “Bacon, ricotta, and spinach crepes.”
He snapped his fingers. “That’s it. Sorry, couldn’t think. But they were amazing. Thanks for bringing them.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked them.” I began walking toward the canoe before Lenore could say anything else that would dull the pleasant hum beneath my skin.
Two hours went by, and I didn’t want to leave. Then three. Four.
Lenore and Doc had gone up to the house to get ready for a cocktail party friends of theirs were throwing, so Wes and Abby and I had the beach to ourselves most of the afternoon. We did all the things we’d done yesterday, but it felt more intimate today with only the three of us. We swam and played in the sand and walked along the shore, swinging Abby between us by the arms. This is what it would be like if Drew were here, some part of my brain kept reminding me. This is what we’d have.
It was hard to keep myself from running away with the fantasy, especially with the memory of his fingers on my skin. But other than that one incident, he never touched me again. He talked and laughed and teased me sometimes, but it was nothing that could be construed as flirting. It almost reminded me of when I’d first met him—I’d thought he was so cute and smart and sweet, and I’d hoped he’d ask me out, but when weeks went by and he didn’t so much as ask for my last name, let alone my number, I’d given up. And then Drew came on like a hurricane—just as good-looking, just as smart, but with all the confidence and swagger his brother lacked. Swept me right off my feet.
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