by Dara Girard
Chapter 17
Amal looked at the table settings. Tonight was an important night for him. For them. He had changed his image and lifestyle with Hannah’s help, and he wanted to keep it going. She’d fit into his life better than he’d hoped. She even welcomed his son, taking him to bonding classes each week. That’s why he knew they both needed to take their relationship to the next level. He’d ask her to move in.
Hannah came into the dining room and saw the decorated table. “What’s this?”
“Sit down.”
She did, curious. “What’s the occasion?”
“I know I should wait until after dinner, but I can’t.” He handed her two pictures of houses.
“What is this?”
“I thought we should look into buying a house.”
“We?”
“Yes, I’d like us to live together.”
Before she could reply, Camille came in. “Oh, how are the Walkers?” she said to Hannah.
Hannah felt her blood turn cold. “What?”
“How would she know about the Walkers?” Amal asked.
Camille touched her chest. “Oh, haven’t you told him yet?”
“Told me what?”
“I’ll tell him later,” Hannah said.
Camille ignored her. “Hannah hasn’t been going to ‘Mommy and Baby’ classes. She’s been taking J.R. to see the Walkers.”
“No, she hasn’t,” Amal said. “Tell her, Hannah.”
“She’s right,” Hannah said in a soft voice. “But I can explain.”
“What’s there to explain?” Amal said, outraged. “You went behind my back to my enemy and gave her my son.”
“I just let her see him.”
“Without my permission.”
“For months,” Camille added with glee.
“What’s all this shouting about?” Doreen asked, coming out of her room.
“Go back to bed, Mom.”
“You’ll wake the baby.”
“I said go back to bed!”
Tears filled his mother’s eyes. “I just—”
“Don’t shout at her,” Hannah said. “You’re angry at me. Not her.”
Amal glared at her. “How I talk to my mother and what tone I use is none of your business.”
“She’s always sticking her nose in other people’s business,” Camille said.
Hannah pointed at her. “That’s not your place—”
“She works for me and she’s right,” Amal interrupted. “What made you think you could get away with this?”
Hannah stood. “Let’s talk about this in private.”
Amal pounded the table with his fist. “We’ll talk about it now.”
Hannah sighed. “She was ill and—”
“I don’t care if she was on her damn deathbed. She tried to destroy me. Did she pay you?”
“No. But I learned some things you should know.”
“I know all that I need to. That you betrayed me.”
“I thought that it would be good for J.R. to know his mother’s family, and I wanted you to know that Jade—”
“He’s my son, not yours. It’s not your place to make decisions like that.”
His words hit hard and deep. Hannah blinked back tears; she wouldn’t cry. “You’re right. He’s your son, and this is your life.” She pointed to Doreen. “She is your mother.” She pointed at Camille. “And she is your nanny. And my opinions about any of them don’t matter because I don’t.”
“I didn’t—”
“Yes, you did, and you just proved it. As long as I follow your rules it’s okay. But I’m not a possession who does what you tell her to and makes you feel needed. I went there because I wanted more for you and J.R. I wanted you to know how much Jade loved you so that you wouldn’t feel guilty. I wanted to find out the truth for you, but now I realize that doesn’t matter. Go on and hate. Hate that Jade died without telling you about your son. That your father left you without a reason. You can keep all that misery and pretend it’s not there, but I won’t live that way.”
Hannah walked over to Camille. “And you, sweetie, may think this is a victory, but you’ve caused more damage than you could ever know.”
Camille grinned. “At least I’ll be around to pick up the pieces.”
“Don’t get cut. The pieces are pretty sharp and hard to fix.”
Hannah marched to the door.
“If you walk out that door...” Amal warned.
She turned to him. “Consider me already gone.”
* * *
The moment Hannah left, Camille wisely disappeared into another room while Amal stood staring at the closed door.
“Go after her,” Doreen demanded.
“No,” Amal said, taking the framed pictures of Hannah and himself off the fireplace mantel.
Doreen grabbed them from him. “You can’t lose her.”
“You heard her. She’s already gone.”
“You and your damn temper. Why didn’t you just listen?”
“Because I didn’t want to hear excuses.”
“You said hurtful things—”
“And I meant every word.”
“Just like your father.”
“Don’t pull that with me,” he warned.
“He also said whatever he wanted to. He didn’t care who he hurt, and neither do you.”
“She betrayed me.”
“And you didn’t ask why.”
“I don’t care why.”
“I’m ashamed of you. Do you think she doesn’t know what you’ve been through? Wasn’t she the one who helped you find your son in the first place? Wasn’t she the one who stood by you during the Walkers’ smear campaign? Wasn’t she by your side in the courtroom, and when you went and bought things to prepare for J.R. to come home? Didn’t she do all that for you? And now you’re willing to toss her away?”
Amal briefly shut his eyes, struggling to keep from shouting. “She took my son to the Walkers—”
“Do you honestly think Hannah would do anything to hurt you? She’s a bigger person than both of us, because she’s thinking not of you or me but of J.R. She’s making sure that you won’t do to the Walkers what they’d done to you. One day your son is going to ask about his mother and her family. Are you going to continue the hate between you and them?”
“I—”
“You didn’t even give her a chance to explain because you’re too busy seeing your needs, your hurts, your pain. You shamed her in front of the staff. You treated Camille with more respect than Hannah.”
“At least I know I can trust her.”
“Right, you’re the only one who counts. No one else matters as long as things go your way. You’re unyielding, but that will have to change—maybe not for Hannah, but for J.R. You’re a father now and you need to think beyond yourself, and if J.R. makes a mistake you can’t just walk away.”
“I never would. Haven’t I thought about you? Haven’t I provided for you and J.R.?”
“Always on your terms. What happens when or if J.R. fights back? What if he sneaks into a movie you told him not to? What if he tells a lie and you catch him? What if he breaks something that means a lot to you?”
Amal shook his head. “I’m going to stay with him. I’d never disappoint him. I’m going to be a good father.”
“Then you should try to be a good man first.”
* * *
Hannah didn’t cry when she reached home, which surprised her. She felt amazingly liberated. She no longer had to keep the secret. Her meetings with the Walkers had been weighing her down. She would have to tell Martha about Amal, and they would have to work it out on their own. She would no longer be the go-between. She could
imagine the position poor Jade found herself in—caught between two strong personalities, too stubborn to back down from their stance. She had to give it to Camille—she had caught her. She should have stuck with her first instinct and not hired any of the nanny candidates.
But no regrets. She was sick of living with regrets and guilt. She’d seen what it had done to Martha. She wouldn’t let it eat her up, too. She’d felt sad that her mother didn’t like Amal, and that Amal didn’t like Martha, and that her sister didn’t like him or her. But that was all done. She wouldn’t be a slave to people’s opinions of her, because they always changed. She’d miss J.R., but he was too young to remember her. For the first time in her life she would live for herself.
For the next several weeks Hannah did just that. She dined with Dana and Natasha and was able to afford the high prices at the restaurants they chose. After uncovering the hidden Walker child and getting Amal’s inventory back, she’d restructured her business to focus on independent research for small law firms and seen her clientele double. She treated Dana to a pair of designer shoes when she announced she’d gotten a promotion at her job and helped prepare a fabulous baby shower when Natasha announced she was expecting.
Then one day Bonnie came into the office with an engagement ring on her finger.
“It’s beautiful,” Hannah said as she congratulated her.
Bonnie beamed. “I was so shocked when he asked me.”
“I’m really happy for you.”
“I knew you would be. I just wish—”
Hannah shook her head. “This is a perfect moment. There’s nothing to wish for.”
“I want you to be my maid of honor.”
“Of course.”
Bonnie hesitated. “There’s just one hitch.”
“What?”
“Hector wants Amal to be his best man.”
“That’s fine,” Hannah said.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive. I’ve no problem being civil to Amal, but Hector may have a problem convincing him.”
* * *
Hector didn’t have a problem at first telling Amal about his upcoming wedding and wanting him to be the best man—until he mentioned Hannah.
“She’ll be there?” he asked as they played tennis.
“Yes, as maid of honor.”
“What?”
“She’s Bonnie’s best friend.”
“Can’t she get another best friend?”
Hector cleared his throat and tried another strategy. “Hannah said she doesn’t mind seeing you, but if you—”
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
“Then it’s fine. I don’t care about seeing her.”
Hector bit back a grin of triumph. “Thanks, man.”
* * *
It was green. She hated the color green, but Bonnie loved it so Hannah would have to wear it. It had been a harrowing week. She had successfully organized and bought a gift for Natasha’s baby shower, attended the fitting of Bonnie’s bridesmaid dresses and went to an office party with Dana. Her friends’ lives were on track while hers felt slightly derailed, but she was too happy for them to think of her own problems. She was carrying her dreaded maid of honor dress to her apartment, looking for the winter chill to completely welcome the coming spring, when a man blocked her path. She looked up at Peter and shook her head. “Not today.”
“Even if I said ‘please’?”
Hannah held up her dress. “Do you see this?”
He winced. “Do I have to?”
“It’s my dress for a friend’s wedding. I have a lot on my mind, and I’m not dealing with the Walkers anymore.”
“I’m not here about the Walkers.”
Hannah draped the dress over her arm. “Then what do you want? Want to come as my date?” she teased.
“Sounds like a good idea.”
Hannah paused. “Are you serious?”
He smiled and his handsome face lit up in an astounding way. “I thought it’d be nice to have coffee sometime.”
“You should smile more.”
“It’s not part of my job. So what do you say?”
“I never say no to free coffee.”
Hannah enjoyed Peter’s company more than she thought she would. He had a keen mind and a dry, droll humor that impressed her. He was the kind of man who could help her forget the man who still haunted her dreams each night.
* * *
She looked great; she looked carefree. Worst of all she looked happy. She wasn’t supposed to look so happy and carefree. Not without him. Amal watched Hannah sitting in the café at a table with another man.
“He’s a good-looking guy,” Doreen noticed. “Even better-looking than you.”
“He works for the Walkers.”
Doreen ignored his sour tone. “Hannah has got herself quite a catch. He’s single, without kids and great to look at. Serves you right.”
Amal sipped his drink. He’d enjoyed these meetings with his mother. She appreciated the attention, and he had to admit that he didn’t worry about her as much as he used to. Usually he liked hearing her opinion—although not today.
“Did you expect her to be like Evie and Jade and pine her life away for you? Did you expect her to lock herself away and never see another man because her heart belonged to you?”
Yes and yes, but he’d never admit it. But what right did Hannah have to be so happy when he was so miserable? She was the one who’d lied to him, betrayed him, and he had a right to be angry. When she’d left that night he didn’t think she meant it. He’d anticipated a tearful apology the next day but got silence instead. “I have no regrets.”
“No, of course not. That’s why you haven’t slept well in weeks—and don’t blame J.R., because he’s not the cause.”
“I have a lot on my mind.”
“Like how to win her back?”
“I don’t want her back.”
“No. It’s just you and J.R. and that creature now. I’d warned Hannah about her.”
“I trust her.”
“Naturally, she’s perfect. Although I always wonder why it took her so many weeks to tell you about what Hannah was up to.”
“She said she didn’t know if she should. She was trying to protect me.”
Doreen groaned. “Are you really that gullible?”
“I believe her.” Amal gripped his hand when he saw the other man lean toward Hannah and whisper something in her ear that made her laugh. No, he didn’t want her back, but he could say hello since their friends were getting married. He could show how disinterested he was. He stood and walked over to their table.
“So, did you get an invitation?” Amal asked.
“Yes,” Hannah said, looking up at him in surprise. “I’m the maid of honor.”
“I’m the best man.”
“I’m amazed anyone could convince you to walk down the aisle,” Peter said as he looked up at Amal.
Hannah laughed. “As long as he’s not making any vows, he’s okay.”
Amal’s jaw twitched. “I need to talk to you.”
Hannah pulled out a chair and patted the seat. “Go ahead.”
“Alone.”
“Peter and I don’t have any secrets. How’s Camille? I know you have no secrets with her, either.” Hannah looked past him. “Where is she? I should say hello.”
“She’s home with J.R.”
“Of course. It must be so nice to have someone you can really trust.”
Amal sat and turned to Peter. “Will you excuse us?”
“No,” he said and then continued sipping his drink.
“Yes,” Hannah said, seeming to enjoy his unease. “Peter knew all about me trying to find a way to hea
l your rift with the Walkers. He knows all about how I was bribed by them and refused. He knows all about how much I tried to get Martha to see you. He also knows how you feel about me.”
“I warned her not to do it,” Peter said. “Everyone knows about your temper.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Amal said.
“Sure I do,” Peter said in a low voice. “Why do you think I’m here enjoying what you threw away?”
Amal’s eyes darkened. “Not for long.”
Peter only smiled. “I know you won’t live like a priest, so don’t expect her to live like a nun.”
Amal grabbed Peter’s shirt and shot to his feet. Hannah squeezed between them. “Stop this.”
“That temper’s not helping you win any favors,” Peter said.
“That’s enough,” Hannah said. “Amal, let him go.”
Amal shoved him back down and Peter straightened his shirt.
Amal glared at her. “Hannah—”
“Let’s not play games. I know that this is about pride for you. I left, and no one leaves you. So if you walk away you can tell yourself that you left me because it was your choice. You didn’t hear a word I had to say—you didn’t care. You locked me out. You claimed your son and your life and completely shut me out of it. I’m not going to beg or plead for you to take me back. I’m not going to ask for your forgiveness. You wouldn’t accept it anyway. I finally realized that I don’t need you to make me happy. I can be happy on my own, especially when I stop trying to please everyone else.”
“I was going to ask you to live with me.”
“And I would have said no, because I wanted to marry you instead.” She stood, grabbed her purse and left.
Peter lazily rose to his feet. “She still loves you and you have no idea what she’s done for you.” He pushed past Amal and said in a low voice, “You don’t deserve her, and I’m not sure you ever will.”
Chapter 18
You don’t deserve her. What did he mean by that? Amal thought with fury as he pedaled a stationary bike at the gym. He’d just completed a two-mile swim, but he couldn’t rid himself of his last meeting with Hannah or forget Peter’s words. What did the bastard mean that he’d never deserve her? He’d treated Hannah well. He cared about her. He was going to buy them a house and have her live with him. He’d fixed her parents’ house. He was Amal Harper. He was a catch. Women wanted to be with him. After Hannah had left, he’d proved it. He’d gone on dates with a few different women for the past two weeks because he could and because he wanted to. It was early spring and he was feeling frisky, and he forced himself to enjoy every minute—although he was finding it difficult.