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"It's no problem, Hannah," he said, seriously. "But I'll let you settle in. I have some stuff I need to get done. I'll see you at dinner," he said, backing out of the room.
–
Hannah hauled her bags up the steps, took a long hot shower, and fell onto the bed, staring tiredly at the ceiling. Her night of not sleeping was finally setting in and her eyes felt heavy. That coupled with the comfort of finally feeling like she was settled someplace safe and she drifted off to sleep.
She woke up several hours later to the sound of pots and pans banging around in the kitchen below. A loud rumbling in her stomach had her throwing on a pair of leggings and an old, stretched-out gray sweatshirt that hung half way down her thighs.
When she rounded the bend to the kitchen, she found Sam with his back to her, steadily chopping something on a butcher block. He was freshly showered with his hair still damp and dressed in a black and gray flannel shirt and jeans.
"Coffee is fresh," he said, without turning around.
Hannah brought her mug over to the pot and poured a fresh cup, pulling herself up to be seated on the counter.
Sam suddenly stopped chopping and turned fully toward her. "Want to talk about it?"
Hannah shrugged a shoulder. "Not especially."
"Alright," Sam said, turning to drop the chopped red, yellow, green, and orange peppers into a frying pan on the stove.
Hannah watched Sam move around the kitchen with a steady, fluid motion. She wondered if he cooked often. For only himself? That seemed like a lot of effort for nothing. But maybe he had someone in his life. The idea hit her unexpectedly. Did Sam have a wife? Not likely. She would have run into her at some point. A girlfriend? He was a very attractive man. And he had become successful. It was very likely that he had someone he shared his life with.
"I can practically hear those gears turning, Han," Sam said, not having turned toward her. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
Hannah shrugged. "Nothing. Everything. The usual."
Sam chuckled, pouring dark whole wheat pasta into a pot of boiling water. "So I heard you got some crazy big job up in that big city of yours."
Hannah smiled. "Been checking up on me, have you?"
"Your parents love talking about you. Always have."
Hannah felt guilt settle like a pit in her stomach. They hadn't seen her in so long and there she was, hiding from them in her old boyfriend's kitchen. "Yeah, I know. They have a tendency to exaggerate though. It is a great company, mind you. But I am just a personal assistant."
"To the CEO," Sam said, stirring the spaghetti but glancing over his shoulder at her.
"Yeah. But it is really just a glorified secretary job. But there is room for advancement in a company like this. If I can stick it out."
"Word is Elliott Micheals is a real piece of work."
Hannah looked down at her hands, feeling torn. Like she should defend him. But defend him why? Because they had had sex? That didn't make him any less of a pain in the ass to have to deal with. The rumors about him were true, regardless of how good of a lover he was.
"He is," she said, filling her coffee cup again, noticing Sam's raised eyebrow and smiling at it.
A comfortable silence stretched as Sam strained the spaghetti and placed it on two plates. He scooped the cooked vegetables and a small amount of red sauce on top of each and brought them to the table. He gestured for her to sit and he served her a salad of at least four different kinds of leafy greens and then filled her wine glass with chilled white wine.
Hannah toyed with her salad, pouring some homemade balsamic vinegar on it and trying to determine what the greens were. She wasn't particularly hungry any longer even though everything looked like something out of a cookbook.
Sam had already worked his way through half of his salad when he let out a short sigh. She looked up, surprised. Sam wasn't one for frustration.
"Eat something," he said, gesturing with his fork toward his own salad.
"It looks amazing," she said, guiltily.
"Hannah," Sam said, his voice uncharacteristically serious, "you look like you're wasting away."
Hannah lowered her eyes to her food. What was wrong with her? She had always had an impressive appetite. She had always had the curves to prove it. But being overworked and stressed and stalked by some random whackjob was really weighing on her and she never really felt hungry anymore. She knew she had been losing weight. But she didn't think it was overly obvious. She had always carried a few extra pounds she could use to shed.
"I just lost a little weight," she defended herself. "I've been really busy."
