“Sure. Can you please include Hannah and Abby?”
Her face fell. “Oh, Wes couldn’t I have you to myself for one night? I just want to make dinner for you here, nothing fancy. I want to make your favorite meal and talk about old times and remember Drew without feeling any awkward tension. You said I could have some time,” she said when she saw my expression. “Couldn’t I at least have one night? One little night? You said she wanted time apart anyway.”
I considered it. On one hand, I didn’t want to do anything without Hannah, and I wanted my mother to see us together. The sooner she got used to us, the better. On the other, I had promised to give them both time, and in the grand scheme of things, what was one night? If I gave her that, maybe she’d be more favorably inclined toward me and Hannah moving forward. I’d be doing us a favor. “Okay.”
Her face lit up. “What should I make?”
“Surprise me,” I said.
Around three that afternoon, I got a text from Pete telling me to go to Jack’s house instead of his. Jack lived in their parents’ old farmhouse, which was right across the road from the inn. As I hurried through the rain up to the front porch, a brown paper bag under my arm, I glanced at the lot where I’d said goodbye to Hannah this morning and wondered how she was doing. I hadn’t heard from her, and I hadn’t texted or called her after my conversation with my mother because I was trying to give her the time and space she’d asked for. She’d been so despondent, and she was so hard on herself.
But I couldn’t help feeling more hopeful than I had earlier in the day. My mother was stubborn, but she would come around. I was sure of it.
I knocked twice on Jack and Margot’s front door, and Pete answered it. “Hey, come on in. We decided to eat here so they didn’t have to drag all the baby shit over to our house. It’s easier just to drag Cooper across the street.”
“Thanks for inviting me.” I followed him to the back of the house, where the kitchen was. It was much bigger and fancier than I remembered. “Wow. This place has changed a lot. Hey, Jack.”
He nodded at me from where he sat at the kitchen table, feeding a baby a bottle. “Hey.”
I set the bag I’d brought on the island. “I picked up some beer, but I promise not to drink so much I need a ride home.”
Pete laughed, going over to a pot on the range and lifting the lid. “I’d make you walk in the rain. Cooper, get out from underfoot. You’re in my way.”
A little brown-haired boy scurried out from behind the island, a toy truck in his hand.
“Say hi,” Pete instructed.
“Hi,” the little boy said before running out of the room.
I shook my head. “The kitchen isn’t the only thing that’s changed around here. Look at you guys with kids. Anyone want a beer?”
“Me,” they both said at once.
I pulled three bottles from one of the six-packs I’d brought, and put the rest in the fridge. Pete handed me a bottle opener, and after prying off the caps, I set Pete’s beer near the stove and Jack’s on the table. He had the baby over his shoulder now, but he picked up the beer and took a long swallow.
I grinned as I took the seat across from him. “Father of the year.”
“You know it.”
“Looks good on you.”
He smiled. “Thanks.”
“The girls working?”
“Yep.” Pete grabbed his beer and tipped it up. “Somebody’s gotta bring home the bacon. So what’s going on with you?”
I took another pull on my beer and dove in. Earlier I’d decided to confide in the two brothers, mostly because I fucking needed someone in my camp after my mother’s reaction and seeing those texts on Hannah’s phone last night, but also because I could use their support to cheer up Hannah. If she heard there were more friends on our side, she’d feel better. “Well, originally I needed to talk to you because I’d been lying to my mother about where I’ve been at night, using you as my excuse.”
“Huh?” Pete looked confused.
“I’ve been telling my mother I’m hanging out with you at night, but as you well know, I haven’t,” I clarified.
He cocked his head. “I don’t get it. Where have you been?”
“With Hannah.”
His head snapped upright when it sank in. His mouth fell open.