Page 35 of Keeping You

“Grayson told us you’re a nurse. How do you like it?”

Hannah lights up at the question. “Oh, I love it. I enjoy working with the staff and patients. Nothing I’d rather be doing.”

Pride fills her voice as she talks about her job, and it makes me happy to know she’s doing something she enjoys.

“Well, we’ll let you go back to your day. It was so nice to meet you, Hannah. I can’t wait to see you in a couple weeks. Welcome to the family,” Mom says before hanging up.

Hannah whips around and faces me, crossing her arms over her chest. Feisty Hannah is out to play, and I’m here for it. I smirk, and it only causes her checks to turn red. She’s adorable when she’s irritated with me.

“What exactly did you tell them about us?”

“The truth.”

She huffs. “Your version of the truth and my version are probably very different. So, I’d like words. What did you tell them?”

“I told them we got married in Vegas during the convention and that you’re coming with me to visit in a couple weeks.”

She narrows her eyes as if she’s trying to send laser beams my way in a hope of reducing me to ash. I hold back my laugh.

“Really, that’s all?”

“Yes, Spitfire, that’s all.”

She shakes her head and drops her arms. “Then why was your mom so nice to me if she knows it was just a drunken mistake?”

“Because she loves and supports me. I think she was more hurt that she didn’t get to see me get married.”

Hannah looks up, and I see that she’s on the verge of tears. I reach forward to wipe any tears that might fall, but she takes a step back out of my reach.

“I’m fine.” She sighs. “I’m going to go to Olivia’s. I’ll have my phone if you need anything.”

She turns and leaves, closing the door behind her. The conversation with my mother seems to have shaken her, but I’m not sure why Mom accepting her and our marriage would bother her. Hannah’s always been a woman of few words when it comes to her emotions. I wish she would open up and tell me what’s going on. Why that conversation affected her the way it did. Is it because her mother has always been so hard on her? Is it that she doesn’t want my mother to accept her? Hearing Mom welcome her to the family really had it sinking in that I’m married to Hannah Smith. Hannah Smith is my wife.

When it was just our friends who knew, it was easier to let the reality of it not sink in. Her mother was so far removed from us that it didn’t really impact my view of our relationship either.Hearing my parents refer to her as family made it all so much more real.

I need a plan. I need her to feel comfortable during this visit to my family. If this trip goes badly, I know nothing can salvage this; no amount of begging or trying will get her to agree to stay after the ninety days.

Giving her some space is the best thing I can do right now. Smothering her and not allowing her to process would drive her away. She built up this facade, and she’s not going to allow anyone to break through it. I’m going to have to go step-by-step, slowly pulling away each layer that she built around herself, if I want this to work.

I settle back on the couch and grab her book, opening it where I left off. This man is obsessed with the female main character. Before I know it, I’ve finish the book. I leave it on the coffee table and see another one she’s left on the side table. This one has no bookmark. I read the back, and it seems like it’s not as dark as the one I was just reading. Opening it to the first page, I start. As I read, I notice a commonality between the main male characters in both books. They’re obsessed with their women. I can relate. That feeling of wanting to be close to them, wanting to reach out and touch them, to spend your every waking hour with them. I feel that with Hannah. She may not know it, but I’m obsessed with her. If she told me to drop to my knees and crawl to her, I would. I would do whatever she asked me to.

A key turns in the lock on the door, and I quickly close the book, place it on the table, and grab my phone. When Hannah walks in, she glances at me before dropping her keys on the counter and heading into her room. Her room. In a matter of three weeks, I have managed to end up married to someone who hates me and lost my bedroom, and now I’m sleeping on my couch. I’m having the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever had, but to have Hannah that close is worth it.

Eventually, Hannah comes out in her pyjamas, grabs a glass of water, and settles on the other end of the couch. She delicately tucks her legs underneath her and positions herself before grabbing a blanket and draping it across her legs. Even as warm as it is, she always has a blanket. This girl would rather open every single window in the apartment and cover herself with a blanket than relax without one.

I pass the remote, and she smiles softly. I don’t think she realizes she does it. Usually, when she notices, she quickly changes her facial expression to a neutral one. This soft, acknowledging smile makes me giddy. Not a word I think I’ve ever used to describe how I’m feeling.

She puts on a reality TV show, and I sit and watch it with her. I enjoy her every reaction to the events on the screen. At one point she stretches out, her feet coming out from underneath the blanket. When she’s not looking, I position her feet on my lap and start working my thumbs into the soles. She bites her lip. Her eyes dart to me every once in a while, but neither of us say a word. I continue to work my thumbs into her feet, and she slowly melts further into the couch, slipping towards me. I eventually move up her calf, massaging the muscles and watching her face react.

As I watch her, I realize how close I am. It wouldn’t take much for me to lean over and kiss her. To brush my lips over the delicate skin of her neck. To hear her breath hitch as mine dances over the shell of her ear.

I remember our first kiss. I’ve been no saint. I’ve kissed many women in my time, but the kiss with Hannah was something entirely different. I never felt so centred.

Ever since the day I met her, Hannah has pulled me into her orbit. After senior year, I was going through the motions. I had a plan. Go to medical school, get a degree, start working in a hospital. I did that. I was floating, just allowing the world to takeme where it wanted to take me. When I met Hannah, she sucked me in. I enjoyed talking to her, bantering. I hadn’t done that in a long time. Then after our first date, she let me kiss her.

The second our lips touched, she became my anchor.

I wasn’t floating anymore. I was attached to her. I know how weird that sounds, that after such a short period of time and a single kiss I had such strong feelings for her. But it was the energy she put out. I recognized it. I recognized the facade, because I was putting on the same one. This illusion that everything’s all right, that you’re a happy-go-lucky person, when in reality it’s all very different.

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