Chocolate Cherry Cabin

Chapter 3

Louis had announced that he would drive, and Hannah hunched down in the cab of his truck, marveling at all the upgrades it had. His vehicle was a thing of beauty.
The silence was awkward as he drove them through Sweetheart Creek and out of town to where the community center was located. But maybe it was good they didn't speak. Hannah wasn't exactly impressed with how they'd all ganged up on her about becoming a teacher. While the career's financial security was tempting, it was a big idea to take in.
Truthfully, Hannah hadn't expected a divorce. She'd believed she and Calvin would be a team forever, and that the time to do something big with her life would eventually come along if she was just patient enough. And sure, maybe she should have pressed harder to complete her own degree. But she'd helped Calvin get his by working reception at a dealership while raising Wade, and by the time Thomas came along, the dream of returning to school had just felt like more work.
Going back to school would be a lot of work—even if they stayed stateside and didn't move to Paris. Taking classes, working, teaching piano and caring for the boys during her week with them would take a toll on all of them.
"Well, here we are," she said, breaking the silence as they approached the hall. Freshly painted in a classic red, with pastures stretching out around it, the old barn look almost majestic. As Hannah fiddled with the giant door's lock she inhaled the aromas of home—dry country air filled with the scents of earth, and growing things. It was a simpler life. Today there was something new and equally wonderful in the air and Hannah inhaled again, trying to identify its origin.
With a jolt she realized it was Louis.
Hannah let them into the building, where dim light sifted through a few side windows in faded streams. Partially blind from being out in the bright sunshine, she fumbled along the wall for the light switches, until she bumped into something solid. Louis.
He mumbled an apology while she struggled to recall how to draw a breath. Tingles shot down to her toes when he pressed a hand to her back, reaching around her with his other one to hit the lights. They flickered a few times before illuminating the large, open space, exposed rafters and partial hayloft that was now an upstairs office.
Trapped for a moment between Louis and the wall, Hannah found herself curious about who this man really was. One thing she'd learned working at Colts and Fillies was that everyone behaved the way they did for a reason. Everyone had a story and a history, even when only a few years old. And that story impacted their choices and the way they behaved. She knew that held true for Louis, who'd moved here as a teen, then left, like her. And now he was back.
But why? And why now?
"How long are you here for this time, Louis?"
He still hadn't stepped away from her, and his blue eyes dropped to meet hers. "As long as I'm wanted."
By whom?
"And after? Where will you go? To the city?" she asked, curious if hockey was the pulling force that brought him places, the way her family had drawn her back to Sweetheart Creek.
He shrugged. "We'll see." Then he sidestepped, heading toward the old upright piano located at the back of the barn near a short platform that served as a stage. Around it, a few square straw bales had been artfully placed as decorations, in case the wooden walls and rough plank flooring didn't create enough ambiance.
"How are your parents?" he asked.
"Still the happiest married couple I've ever known."
He chuckled as he tugged the bench away from the piano. "Why do you say that with disgust?"
"I did not. I'm happy for them."
"No, there was definite disgust."
"Okay, fine," she admitted with a sigh. "Maybe. But seriously? Are they faking it? They make it look so easy."
Louis hooked his hands around the piano and, before Hannah could jump in to help him, pulled it away from the wall. The wheels squealed and protested as he strong-armed it to the spot he wanted so he could step behind it to work. That man was strong. Yummy.
Hannah cleared her throat and examined the instrument. It looked older than she recalled. Dustier, too. She swiped a hand over the bench, then coughed as she dusted her hands, reminding herself to fill Wade with antihistamines before the concert so he didn't sneeze the entire night.
Louis glanced over his shoulder as he lifted the lid protecting the piano keys, then experimentally pressed a few, proving the instrument did indeed sound awful. "Maybe if you find the right person it is that easy," he finally replied.
"And what would either of us know about that?" she asked with a laugh. The nice thing about Louis was that she never worried about hurting his feelings. She could be blunt and to the point with him.
"Maybe we just need to open our minds." He opened the top of the piano, hinges creaking as he sent Hannah one of those carefree, casual smiles that were kind of sexy if she let herself think about it. Which she would not. Ever.
"Open our minds to what? Possibilities?"
"I'm sure there are lots of eligible, single men in Sweetheart Creek."
"I'm not going to date Henry Wylder."
Louis laughed. "That guy's still around? He must be in his hundreds by now."
"He's not as old as you'd think." She wasn't sure Henry had even hit eighty yet. "Anyway, even if I got over the age thing, he's way too much of an old grump for me."
"I thought you liked grumps?"
She placed her hands under her chin and batted her eyelashes. "He'd be the storm cloud to my sunny disposition. A true opposites-attract romance."
Louis choked on a laugh and she smiled. Sometimes the two of them just...connected. Not always, but when they did it felt incredible. Like her heart was opening with joy, or something equally cheesy and very un-Louis-like.
The man was like one of those chocolate eggs her boys loved. You never knew what was hidden inside, sometimes a toy, sometimes a puzzle.
And Louis was often the puzzle when she'd been hoping for a toy. But sometimes he brought laughter when she was expecting a fight, kind of like right now, so she supposed it all evened out in the end.
The man prodded her and made her think even when she didn't want to. But maybe it wasn't for the reasons she'd always assumed.
He had a good sense of how far he could go, and often stopped just before she snapped.
It was infuriating, and she often found herself wishing he was more like Calvin—straightforward and easy to predict. Her ex was linear, like a marble rolling down a tube. Louis, on the other hand, was as predictable as a bouncy ball operating under zero gravity after a crazed preschooler gave it a good chucking.
Like now. Could he even tune a piano? And if he could, was there anything this man couldn't do? How had he fit so much living into his thirty-one years?
Then again, she was fairly confident he was bluffing about his skills, because when they'd hopped into his truck she'd asked if he wanted to grab his tools for tuning the piano. He'd just patted his pocket and announced that he was all set. Every piano tuner she knew arrived with a duffel bag.
Hannah dropped down onto the dusty bench and started running her fingers up and down the keys. There was a vibration on Middle D that shouldn't be there.
Louis, who was still peering inside the piano, gave a low whistle.
"What?"
"There are a lot of strings in here."
"Do you know what you're doing?" she asked, hitting a few more keys.
"Ouch! Stop that."
"Sorry." Hannah sat on her hands so she wouldn't be tempted to knock his fingers with the internal hammers that hit the strings he was studying. All eighty-eight keys were covered in a layer of grime from a year of disuse. Off to the right a C key wasn't sitting properly. Bringing the instrument up to a reasonable standard was going to take not only time, but skill—something she was certain Louis didn't possess.
"There's a high C looking odd. How does it look in there?" she asked.
"Which one?"
"Are your fingers clear?"
"Yes."
Hannah stretched her neck up to peek at him. He was doing something on his phone instead of looking inside the instrument.
"What are you doing? Researching how to tune a piano or texting your girlfriend?"
He gave her a saucy glance, and she couldn't decide whether that meant yes, he was researching the job, or he was texting a woman.
She tapped and wiggled the funny key, which remained silent. She needed that one for "Here Comes Santa Claus," the song the kids all sang together at the end to bring out Santa and his bag of gifts. "What's up with this key?"
He bent forward again. "Wire broke. We can probably bring it back to life if we use a little care. Bring out this old beast's potential."
"Honestly, I don't know if it can be salvaged." She must have been overly optimistic when she'd looked at it last month.
Hannah ran her fingers down the keys, caressing them like they were old friends. When she was a kid this had simply been a piano. She'd sat down, played her music, got up again. But looking at it now, with its chipped and yellowed keys, she realized that as dear and familiar as it was, the past few years of neglect and abuse were showing. This old barn in Texas wasn't exactly climate controlled, and the instrument's precious inner workings were likely cracked and warped from years spent in the dry heat of the dusty countryside. It was time to have the instrument replaced. And like the idea of going back to school, there was no room in the budget.
* * *
Louis watched Hannah over the top of the piano. She seemed resigned to disappointment. Was it the state of the instrument or the fact that she was twigging on to the fact that he didn't have a clue about tuning pianos? He'd figured with his musical ear he could sort it out, but once he'd opened the lid he'd realized it was a lot trickier than sorting out a six-string guitar.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"I don't know yet."
"Is there money for a new piano?"
She shook her head.
"Think we can squeeze another season out of this thing?" It would be a shame if she didn't get to play in the community concert. She was good, and he'd loved seeing her shine when she performed. Granted, he hadn't heard her play since a teen, but seeing as she had a piano at home, taught lessons and was looking at this one with sadness and longing, he had a feeling music was still a big part of her life.
He closed the piano, then set his pocket knife on top.
Hannah's gaze locked onto its beat-up red handle, a strange expression of recognition flitting across her face before she quickly looked away.
She remembered the knife. A gift that went everywhere with him.
She might never know how special it was to him, and that was okay. She might think he'd held on to it for all these years because it was a handy tool. But maybe one day she'd realize he'd kept it because it was from her, and it mattered most because of that.
"We need to find you a new piano," he announced. "Where should we start looking?"
"I didn't say it needs replacing right now," she snapped. "Quit trying to solve problems that aren't yours."
Louis met her eyes, and it felt like a thread of history was dangling between them, tangling the past with the present. Louis found himself wishing he could back off and let everything be. Let life be simple, the way she wanted it.
But he couldn't.
And she knew that, too.
"This will do for another year. It just needs tuning." She ran her fingers down the out-of-tune keys again, hitting the dead one and leaving a gap in the notes ringing through the empty building.
Louis raised his hands in surrender. "Just trying to be helpful."
He eyed Hannah, considering her as well as his next move. Why she fought so hard to stay safe was a mystery to him.
She locked her gaze on his even though he could tell it made her uncomfortable. "Don't try and sort me out," she said.
"I'm not."
"Then quit staring, and tell me this piano will work for the concert."
"You want me to tell you that we can make it sound good? That it won't be an embarrassment to your skills? That the town won't think you lost your musical touch when you play on this thing?"
She crossed her arms, a sign the fight was rising inside her again. "Just carry on with your plans, Louis. We both know you won't listen to me, what I think, what I feel, what I want. It's never enough for you."
"Why is it enough for you?"
Her jaw clamped, locking tight, no doubt to keep her from yelling at him. "Don't tell me what I need in my life," she said finally.
He stepped to the piano and casually leaned against it. "You need something?"
"No. And this piano will do. A new one would need tuning after being delivered, anyway." She stood up, shutting the piano cover. "So maybe you should just tune it like you said you would."
Her brown eyes locked on his, challenging him.
"Maybe," he said, taking a step closer, "despite how you try to convince yourself, it's not good enough."
"And maybe you don't know everything." She crossed her arms again, her glare set to deep freeze.
He returned it with a wry, understanding smile.
Her expression morphed into something resembling a wounded animal who was lashing out due to pain. The fact that she was feeling this way when she'd been that strong, smart woman he'd known in high school made his heart ache.
"Maybe you should stop accepting things you shouldn't," he said gently.
"The piano's fine, Louis." She seemed strangely calm, as if caught in some weird place between emotions. "Maybe you should accept that not everything needs changing just because you want it to be different."
Fair enough.
But not something he was willing to do.
He moved into her physical space, tempted to cup her chin and kiss her.
"Maybe you need to learn to speak up," he said. "Demand more. Reach out and grab what you want in life."
"Yeah?" The word came out breathy, not firm like he'd expected. Her eyes flashed with anger—at herself, no doubt, and her tone became hard, flippant. "Then bring me a glorious new piano, Louis, or fulfill your promise to make this thing work again. And while you're at it, how about finding me a job that pays better, too?"
She clamped her mouth shut, catching herself.
Busted. She wasn't satisfied with her job, after all. She wanted more. He rocked back on his heels, reminding himself to play it slow and not go charging in.
She let out a frustrated huff. "Quit trying to mess up my life, Louis. I'm happy! Things are good."
"Follow your dreams, Hannah. Follow the yellow brick road," he crooned.
"Maybe I am living my dream."
A single mom working in a job that would never allow her to pay her bills without her ex-husband's support. How could that be her dream?
"Maybe there's room for more."
"Like a teaching certificate?" She jutted out a hip, daring him to agree.
He shrugged.
"Going back to school sounds so fun. Let's see..." She ticked things off on her fingers. "I'd be pinched for time, traveling to the city several days a week—if not actually moving there after finally settling the family here, or even worse, leaving the boys behind and becoming a long-distance mom. A busy, distracted, stressed mother, as well as in debt. Sounds like I'll provide my boys the kind of childhood everyone dreams of. And for what? The possibility that I might be able to teach a classroom full of kids and financially support myself and the boys without having to ask Calvin for things like shoes and back-to-school supplies?"
She sucked in a deep breath, her eyes damp.
"Sometimes we have to make minor sacrifices in order to—"
"You're not a parent. You don't understand."
"Enlighten me."
"Try listening!"
"You see the problems, but what about the rewards?" She shut her eyes as he continued. "Financial security. Sharing the same holidays as your sons. Using that amazing brain of yours."
She opened her eyes, a flash of anger reddening her complexion. He softened his tone, reaching for that curl that had sprung loose from her bun. She tipped her head away, her brows scrunched in confusion. He grasped the tendril, stepping closer to delicately tuck it behind her ear. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed nervously. He saw a flash of longing, but didn't know if it was for his touch or for the career and lifestyle he'd described.
"Maybe you need to learn to be happy with what you have," she whispered, her feet tucked between his, their bodies almost touching.
"I'm trying. I keep failing at it."
"Well, maybe I already reached out to get what I want. I have a home. Two kids. A job. A car. I don't need more."
"Did you pick it all out yourself?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it. "Calvin and I decide on many of these things together," she said diplomatically. "As a couple. That's what we do."
Calvin was still running her life, making the major decisions, even in divorce. No wonder she didn't trust herself to make a life-altering choice about going back to school.
"The house?" he asked, curious how deep Calvin was in her life, even though her former marriage was far from being his business.
"It has good insulation. It keeps us cool during the summer."
"What did you pick out?"
"It doesn't matter, Louis. That's the point! He makes good decisions and considers things I don't. Like an all-wheel-drive SUV is better with kids than a cute sedan." She must have caught something in his expression because she stepped back, saying, "I got to veto the expensive bungalow he chose for himself, as well as the bigger SUV he'd thought I'd like."
"Okay."
She threw her arms in the air. "So what's your problem?"
"There's no problem."
"Then why are you so bossy?"
"I'm good at it."
"Expert level," she muttered, turning away to sweep a palm through the dust gathered on the piano top, then smacking her hands together to clean them. She gave an adorable sneeze.
"Are you going to look into becoming a teacher?" he asked.
Her tone was exasperated as she marched toward the doors. "Why can't you understand that I'm fine working in a day care?"
"Because you're not."
"Haven't you been listening?"
"I have. Haven't you?"
"To you?"
"No, to yourself."
"What?"
"You're a convincing liar," he said gently.
She gasped with indignation, whirling to face him. "I am not lying. To you or myself or anyone else." Her expression turned dark. "I like working there, and I am not being complaisant like you think I am."
He took a steadying breath, considering momentarily if this was the time to stop talking.
"Fine," he said, as she returned to her marching. "But it's not enough."
"It is!"
"Say it 'They don't pay me enough.'"
"Why? Why do you care if my life isn't perfect?"
He caught up with her at the doors, where she had a hand resting above the switches, ready to turn out the lights.
"Don't be afraid to change your life."
Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them away, then hit the switches, plunging them into darkness. "I'm not afraid of change."
She opened the door and daylight blinded him from seeing anything other than how she was silhouetted in the doorway—all curvy mom. She was beautiful.
"We just got settled here after a move from the city, separate houses, separate cars, the boys moving between two homes, me in a new job."
"That's a lot of change." He joined her in the doorway.
She cleared her throat. "Cassandra and Athena have things to do, so if you're done pretending you know how to tune a piano, can we go and relieve my babysitters?"
Louis nodded slowly, moving toward his truck, one eye on her.
"You know, not everyone wants to waltz off on adventures, with no cares or responsibilities," she said, her tone a bit preachy as she climbed in the passenger side. "Maybe some of us enjoy having a stable life and don't need more. We don't need to disrupt our lives due to some insatiable thirst for action and excitement. Maybe I just need a job, and a home and movie night with my kids. Maybe that's the important stuff." She fastened her seat belt and locked eyes on Louis. "You know—family."
He could feel Hannah's judgment washing over him, seeping between the cracks. She did have a good life, full of meaning. Who was he to tell her it wasn't important or enough for her?
He looked away. "You're right."
That hollow feeling he usually experienced when he parted ways with Hannah arrived earlier this time, and he focused on starting his truck, driving her home.
"I do know what it's like to have responsibilities," he said quietly, when they turned onto Cherry Lane. "And to have someone depending on you."
Her tone was filled with surprise. "You have kids?"
He gripped the steering wheel, doubting himself. "My mom was sick when I was in high school. I went home at lunch to cook and eat with her before coming back to school again."
"Oh. I didn't know."
That's because they hadn't told many people. It wasn't out of shame or an attempt to dodge pity, but rather his mother's wish for privacy. Even after all these years he still didn't know why he resisted talking about it.
He finally glanced at Hannah. The contemplativeness in her brown eyes made them appear almost black. "You have two amazing sons who seem very well adjusted. That isn't easy."
"It is easy." That fight was back and he wondered why he even tried. The woman was exhausting. "Calvin and I get along very well."
Instead of asking what that cost her, he simply said, "I know." He reached out, patting her hand just once while he repeated, "I know."
* * *
The drive back into town had been fast—too fast. And before long they were in front of Hannah's home, where he parked his truck on the street instead of in his driveway. Louis got out with her, eyeing the yard's inflatable Frosty bobbing jovially as the fan at his base kept him plump with air.
He walked Hannah to her door even though he could see from his yard if she got home safely. At the steps she stopped. He'd been hoping she'd invite him in for a second cup of chai with the gals. He liked her friends and the insights they gave him into Hannah.
"Why have you never liked Calvin?" Hannah asked, facing him, her chin tipped up in the weak December sunshine. It was like she had seen into his mind, sorted out the wavelength he had been riding on and then caught that wave herself.
He'd wanted to ask her why she'd married Calvin. Why she'd let him run their lives and then basically leave her behind. Had he ever even loved her the way she deserved?
They were questions he couldn't ask, and her question was one he refused to answer.
He shifted, gazing at the front window of her cabin, at the intricate paper snowflakes she'd no doubt made with the boys. "What does a new piano cost?"
"What?" She blinked a few times. "I'll hire a real tuner. One who has tools and isn't overwhelmed by the number of strings inside."
He smirked. "So, seriously. How much?"
"I asked you a question."
"I asked one, too. How much?"
"A lot."
"How much was yours?" He gestured toward her house and the piano he knew was sitting in the living room.
"A lot."
"You're in a real helpful mood, aren't you?" Her belligerence and the way she was blocking him and his questions made him want to kiss her. Irrational? A bit.
Hannah planted her hands on her hips, so she wouldn't be tempted to swing at him, he figured, or maybe wrap those lovely fingers around his throat and squeeze.
He remained silent and she said, "I wasn't expecting tuning the piano to be such an issue."
"So? It is. Let's solve it. We could restore the old beast, but we don't have a ton of time." Or the skills. "We could replace it."
"The piano actually isn't mine, so I can't just march in there and start solving things." She waved in the direction of the community barn.
"If you plan on playing music for the Christmas concert, then it is your problem."
She shifted her hands on her hips and inhaled slowly. At the sound of a car pulling up she glanced over Louis's shoulder, her lashes fluttering and her bottom lip disappearing between her front teeth.
Louis followed her gaze as she called out, "Man-night Steakfest was yesterday."
Calvin. Pretty nice shiny SUV. Nicer than the vehicle he'd seen Hannah driving.
Calvin came to a halt, staring at the two of them.
Louis grinned, unable to help himself. Calvin was irked to see him, and that made Louis's day. He could be such a petty man when it came to Calvin.
"What do you need?" Hannah asked, her voice lacking the warmth she used to reserve for the man who'd swept her off her feet so many years ago.
Calvin was wearing a fine wool coat and polished black loafers, so he must have come straight from work. Louis wondered how long it would be before he started dating again. Probably not too long. He hoped the self-centered jerk didn't make life miserable for Hannah and the boys when he did.
"I thought we could discuss some last-minute details about Paris," Calvin said, his gaze fixed solidly on Louis.
Paris? What the...?
Louis turned to Hannah, unable to mask his disbelief. "You're going to Paris? With him?"
"Calvin and the boys are going." Hannah gave Louis a look that said "Butt out." Not that he was ever very good at that.
"He's taking the boys?" he asked. How was she not outraged? It was obvious her sons were her life, and Christmas was in eight days. She loved everything about the holiday and surely wanted to pull every joyful morsel out of the lead-up with her kids. More so if they still believed in Santa and the magic of the season.
"Yes." Hannah inhaled slowly, clearly working to keep herself calm.
"Louis Bellmore," Calvin said, his tone flat. "You're back in town."
Louis stood taller. "Living right next door."
His smile sure felt smug. He hoped it looked it, too.
Calvin took a long look at Hannah, then shifted his attention back to Louis. His jaw was tight, like the time Louis had spotted him in the grocery store with his sons and they were begging for him to buy a carton of grape juice.
"Of course you are," Calvin said tightly.
"Indeed I am." Louis grinned and rocked back on his heels. "And you're still...you?"
Hannah flashed him a warning look, having noted the hint of insult in his words and tone. Couldn't get much past her. That was one of the things he admired most about her.
"Thomas has a play date and the ladies are over," Hannah said, moving toward the steps again.
"Then what are you two doing out here?" Calvin asked.
He'd come closer to Hannah, his eyes still on Louis, staking his territory, no doubt. He might not want her any longer, but he sure didn't want Louis anywhere near her. The jerk was smart enough to know he hadn't done well by Hannah and that Louis would call him on it. Or do better, if given the chance.
"Talking." Hannah crossed her arms, then softened her stance when Calvin gave her a wounded look. "We were checking out the piano for the concert."
"Hannah believes it's had its season," Louis said. He eyed Calvin's Buick. It was freshly washed, all glossy and perfect. Not a speck of Texas dust had dared settle on it yet. "I was thinking I'd scour the used ads, but maybe you'd care to donate one? Your wife sure could use it to accompany the kids at the Christmas concert."
Hannah gave Louis a warning look while Calvin crossed his arms, his chest puffed out.
"He can't afford another piano," Hannah muttered. Louder, she added, "I need to check in with the gals."
She'd turned, about to climb the steps, when Louis muttered, "Spent it all on the Buick, huh?"
She glowered at him in a way that no doubt worked on her boys when they misbehaved.
"You need a piano, honey?" Calvin cozied up to Hannah, sliding an arm around her shoulders. He bumped his hip against hers, and Louis could see the way she softened before catching herself. She pushed him off her, giving him a glare she normally reserved for Louis when she was itching for a gun.
"Why didn't you say something?" Calvin asked her. "I bet the engineering company I work for would be more than happy to donate one. And if not, maybe I can find one like I did for your living room."
"You'll find one?" She turned, her face lighting up, and Louis cursed himself for the way he'd set Calvin up to be the hero. Her expression grew wary. "You leave for France tomorrow. I'm going to need the piano right after you get back, and it'll have to be tuned after being delivered."
"I can tune it," Louis interjected.
"By a professional," she added, not even glancing his way.
Calvin let out a huff of amusement, his features relaxing. "You two still hate each other, huh?"
"We don't hate each other," Hannah snapped.
"Hey! Look who's here," Athena called from the doorway. "I thought I heard voices. How's the piano?"
Obi scampered down the steps to circle the men before sitting at Hannah's feet. He stretched his neck and nudged Louis's hand, hoping for some attention, which Louis provided with a scratch behind the ears.
Calvin whistled for the dog, but Obi, now in ear-rubbing ecstasy, ignored him.
"The piano's fine," Hannah told Athena.
"Hannah won't say it, but it could really use replacing," Louis interjected. He locked his gaze on hers. "She's too forgiving. She could do a lot better than settle."
Hannah narrowed her eyes, and Louis guessed that rage was slowly building inside her, like lava in an active volcano. He really needed to stop pushing her buttons. One of these days he was going to be the victim of vehicular manslaughter or die of poisoned chocolate-cherry cookies.
"But don't worry," he added brightly. "Wonder boy here says he'll get her one." He jerked a thumb in Calvin's direction.
"Really?" Athena's forehead furrowed.
"I'll look into getting something brought in," Calvin said smoothly.
"Aren't you leaving, like, tomorrow?" Athena asked.
"I've got this," he assured her.
"I'm going to go next door," Louis said, feeling like his work had been done and it was time to give it space to play out. He softly tapped Hannah's shoulder. "Open your window and holler if you need anything." He winked at her while giving Obi-Wan an extra goodbye scratch.
Hannah rolled onto the balls of her feet. She almost looked as though she didn't want him to leave.
"She won't need you," Calvin said tightly, his hands curling into fists. "She has me."
"In...Frankfurt, was it?"
"France."
"Ah. Right." He nodded, letting Calvin stew over the fact that while he was away, Louis was going to be living right next door to his ex.
* * *
"It doesn't make sense," Hannah complained to Cassandra, ten minutes after Louis had left, followed by Calvin and Athena.
"It makes total sense," her friend replied, palms flat on the kitchen table. "Calvin's jealous of Louis and vice versa."
"It still doesn't make sense."
"Louis has a thing for you, which is driving Calvin nuts."
"But Calvin doesn't want me." Never mind the erroneous fact that Louis wanted her. He wanted to irk, rile, pester and bother her. Nothing romantic.
"Just because Calvin is moving on doesn't mean he wants his old rival to win you. And why else would Louis pretend he can tune a piano except for the fact that he likes you?" Cassandra laughed. She'd loved hearing the story of Louis's moxie, going all the way to the barn and never quite admitting he was in over his head.
"He would do all of that to annoy me," Hannah replied.
"It's only annoying because you like him, but don't want to." She smiled as if she'd hit upon some truth—which she hadn't.
Louis and Hannah? They were like ketchup on pudding. It just didn't work.
"He's annoying. He's still pushy. And thinks he knows what's best for me. He intentionally made Calvin jump in and say he'd secure a new piano."
"Smart man." Cassandra was grinning.
"Louis shouldn't have done that to Calvin." He'd played to her ex's insecurities and weaknesses.
She could see how easy it had been, but still.
And why hadn't Louis stepped up with his big NHL coaching salary and bought a new piano if he was so intent on puffing out his chest?
Secretly, Hannah hoped Calvin would solve the community's piano problem if for no other reason than to have Louis's plan blow up in his face.
"And before you guilt-talk yourself too much about the piano, the one at the barn is old," Cass said. "And it's not like Calvin's broke. Louis probably did you and the community a favor." She moved toward the front door, hollering for Dusty, who had finished helping Thomas tidy up the toys they'd been playing with. They were now in that precious, momentary balance where it was imperative to extract the boys before the mess was recreated.
"And," she added, reaching for the door even though her son was still in Thomas's room, and by the sounds of it, trying to see who could launch LEGO pieces the farthest, "I also happen to agree with Louis that you should become a teacher."
Hannah gave her a skeptical look.
"It'll only take a few courses, right?"
Hannah folded her arms across her chest. It was more than "just a few."
Cass lowered her voice. "Thomas really likes him and so does Obi."
"So?"
Cassandra raised her brows, calling Hannah on her feigned obtuseness. It was impossible to overlook the way Louis was hitting some pretty important marks on a single mom's potential-new-husband list. Good with your kid? Check. The dog likes him? Another check. He had earned himself a free pass straight to the inner circle, where his eligibility could be considered more fully. Because chances were that having earned those two checkmarks meant he was a good person.
Annoying, but good. Handsome, too.
"He likes a life full of adventure," Hannah said. "He's not looking to play daddy."
Cassandra smirked, and Hannah paused, wondering why her excuse felt like a lie. Did he actually want a family? She almost felt as though he might. If she was a decent judge of character—and she liked to think that she was—it seemed as though he might actually want a cozy family life.
Hannah shook her head. She was projecting her own desires onto him. He was a pilot, a guy who'd had a million careers already and was currently coaching a professional hockey team over an hour away. He wasn't about to spend an evening at home watching movies with her and the boys. Settling down and being part of a family wasn't his lifestyle.
Cassandra hollered for Dusty again. "Come on, kid! Levi Wylder's waiting for us to pick up that saddle blanket for Auntie Alexa. We need to get moving. Chop, chop!" She lowered her voice. "As for Louis, why don't you kiss him and see if all this fighting is just chemistry with nowhere to go?"
Hannah gave a huff of amusement as Dusty surfaced from Thomas's room, Wade appearing momentarily to wave goodbye. Cassandra plunked a red knitted hat on Dusty's curls as he slipped on his boots. She had him out the door in seconds, adding, "Be like Nike, my friend. Just do it."
Hannah waved goodbye and closed the door to find Wade already in front of the TV.
"Did I say yes to screen time?"
"Yup."
"I didn't. Turn it off."
"But I'm tired and wanna watch."
"Why don't you and Thomas finish your letters to Santa so I can mail them? That way they'll get to him in time for Christmas."
Wade rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut about the existence of Santa Claus as Thomas tore into the kitchen, yelling, "Santa!" He yanked his half-written letter from the fridge, sending the magnet flying. As nice as the upcoming break would be while they were in France, she was going to miss her little whirlwind.
Just pretend he's going to be over at Calvin's for a week and not half a world away.
Hannah sighed and held up the list of things to pack for Wade and Thomas that Calvin had left with her. It was long, but she could see at a glance it was missing important items, such as Thomas's favorite teddy bear and Wade's allergy medication. She tossed the list aside, wondering what Calvin would do if she ignored it.
Right. He'd be steamed up, because it was Hannah who took care of the details, desperately hanging on to her sons and the idea of being needed.
What had changed, that she no longer relished the idea of being involved with the trip, even if it was just to help with packing? Was it her secret snarky side—usually reserved for Louis—rearing up and expanding into all areas of her life? Did she believe that if Calvin was going to take their sons on an international trip, then he should be in charge from start to finish? That he was on his own and could very well mess up and fail? Did she want the vacation to be miserable for her boys? For Calvin to be trekking out into the night to buy allergy tablets? Because that's what could happen if she didn't add items to his list.
"How do you spell 'Mercedes'?" Thomas asked.
"You don't need a car," she replied absently, picking up Calvin's list again.
"Dad wants it."
"He already has a nice car."
Because he made more money than a day care worker did. Because he'd taken care of himself by getting a degree, instead of quitting like she had, floating along, assuming he'd always be there. And now he wasn't.
She plunked herself down at the table and shoved her hands in her hair. She was a grown-up and couldn't afford the same things her former partner could, even though they'd been hip to hip all their adult lives.
Maybe going back to school would be smart, even if challenging for her and the family.
Her phone beeped with a text from Calvin, saying there were no used pianos online in the area, and that maybe the concert's organizing group could sort something out in time.
Hannah put her phone down, wanting to ghost him by not replying. Instead, she picked it up again and sent him a thumbs-up emoji, hating the way she was letting him off the hook, but very aware that she was preventing a fight, which was probably what Louis had been angling to create.
Hannah shifted her chair closer to Thomas's, clutching her phone as she reminded him to put spaces between his words so Santa could read the letter easier. She wondered what Louis had asked Santa for at this age.
And how had nobody known that his mother was sick while he was in high school? How had his family managed to keep that private in a town like Sweetheart Creek? And why did that tidbit of his history feel connected to the way he'd judged her and her life choices back then?
Had Hannah messed up in her assessment of Louis somewhere along the line? But then why had he judged her so harshly for wanting to start a family with Calvin, when today his eyes had softened when talking about kids?
Again, she was getting the puzzle instead of the toy in the chocolate egg surprise that was Louis Bellmore.