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He raised a brow. “Fine. Don’t trust your dad. That says more about your character than mine.”
“Don’t start with me about character,” she said, realizing how low her tone had gotten on those last words.
“I can say whatever I want,” he spat. “You’re the daughter who runs a bar with an alcoholic father. Like you want to kill me while laughing.”
“At least you admit that you’re an alcoholic,” she said.
He slammed his hand down. “You always were ungrateful.”
“Time for you to go,” she said. Because her father was the only person in the world who scared her. He was frail, likely drunk, and still, the hatred in his voice hit a chord deep in her soul. That same chord that gave her a healthy dose of realization that people couldn’t be counted on and they ended up hurting you.
“Out,” she said, hating that her voice was a whisper.
He shook his head, looking genuinely disappointed in her. An invisible knife twisted through Hannah’s heart. She shouldn’t care. But the way her father just stared at her—like he really was embarrassed, annoyed, and put out—made her heart sink.
She watched him stumble away. He was looking sickly. So old and frail, and she didn’t want to know how bad off his body was. And yet she knew her father wouldn’t live to see sixty-five. Which gave her just a few years. There was no proof of any of this, but there was proof she was an idiot, because deep down, she cared. And she was worried she always would.
Chapter Eight
Hannah sat quietly across a white linen–covered table from Grant. She looked lovely but said almost nothing. Like her mind was racing. And Grant would give just about anything to know what the woman thought of. What troubled her. What she loved.
He’d spent more time with Jake. Between taking calls and working remotely by e-mail, he found Jake becoming a good friend, and grabbing a beer to shoot the shit before Hannah got home was nice. Grant had never had a real friend before.
Jake talked about his life, his wife, the future. Every topic garnered a wide smile while he discussed the woman he loved and the future they had. Made Grant think about Hannah. Well, he always thought about Hannah, but being around another man he respected who was married and in love made Grant think in different ways.
He’d gone into this ruse with the sole intent of getting Hannah to agree to stay married to him and come to New York. But there was more to his grand plan. Items he’d tackle as they came along, but those items were now at the forefront of his mind, led by one single word:
Future.
There was a lot of life ahead of Grant and Hannah, and he wanted to provide the best for her, and for the family they could have one day. Between the business and their locations, he hadn’t thought about the next step beyond simply keeping Hannah. He wanted to talk to her about all this. Wanted to know what she thought about and what she wanted, other than her bar.
“This place is great,” Grant said, taking a bite of his pasta. The small Italian restaurant was on the south side of town, in an old seaside house from the early 1900s that had been converted into a restaurant. Cozy and intimate. If only he could get his wife to open up to him.
“Yeah, this is one of my favorite places,” Hannah said with a forced smile. She pushed her chicken around on her plate. Grant wanted to come out and ask her to tell him what was on her mind. But he was worried if he pushed too hard, she’d shut down. So he’d try to get her talking without being obvious.
“So you come here a lot?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, I don’t go out often.”
“Well, working at Goonies probably gets exhausting. You put in a lot of long hours, baby. You’re a hard worker.”
She glanced up at him, and a small smile tugged her lips. “Thank you,” she said.
He was getting somewhere.
“What was your favorite place to go when you were growing up around here?” he asked.
She frowned at her plate then smiled. “Candy shop.”
He laughed and nodded. “I can see why. The whole block smells like taffy.”
“Banana is my favorite,” she said, taking a bite of her food. Her shoulders squared just a little to show Grant she was coming out of whatever was weighing them down. He wanted to keep going. To make her happy. To watch her perk up in his presence.
“You and Laura go there?” he asked.
Hannah raised a brow at him. “Yes.”
He shrugged. “I like thinking about you before we met. You and Laura have been friends for a while. Jake told me the gist.”
