Page 9 of That Reunited Feeling

I can’t remember the last time I slept properly—when I sleep at all, that is. I’m not one to preen in mirrors, but even I’ve noticed my skin’s sallow and blotchy, and the bags under my eyes would definitely not qualify as carry-ons.

So here I came, to the peace and quiet of small-town New Hampshire, the loving embrace of my aunt and uncle, and the comforting atmosphere of this beautiful family home. The perfect place to rest for two or three months, recuperate, spend time with the folks, get my shit together, and then head back to London refreshed and ready to take on the world again.

What I did not come here to do was live under the same roof as my high school girlfriend who clearly bears a grudge as big as my divorce settlement.

“So this arrangement with Hannah is just till she moves to California?” I pick up my coffee.

“Oh…” Maggie wafts her hand about again. “I don’t know about that. I’m not sure it’s definite. Or even a real thing. She probably doesn’t know what she wants.”

“If she doesn’t know what she wants, then she’s a very different Hannah from the one I knew.”

Maggie leaps off her stool like it suddenly caught fire and stares behind me. “Hannah! I was just telling Tom how we bumped into each other in Jude’s store.”

I stare hard at the creamy liquid in my mug to stop my head from turning to look over my shoulder.

She might be out of my line of sight, but it’s impossible not to sense her presence. Hannah always had an aura that set her apart from everyone else in the room, and right now I can almost feel it brush down my side as she walks by, even though she’s several feet away.

Even if she wasn’t softly singing to herself, I’d still have known she was there. At least one part of her hasn’t changed—always singing.

“Such a fluke,” she says with a smile to Maggie, not only completely ignoring the fact I’m here, but also angling her body slightly away from me.

As she reaches the sink, my eyes can’t help themselves and flick from my coffee to her jeans-clad ass. She pulls open the dishwasher and bends over to place inside whatever it was she was carrying.

It’s a damn good job I didn’t get that view while I was butt naked. I’d have needed another two hands.

“Let me make you a hot chocolate,” Maggie says to Hannah. “And you can take the weight off your feet.”

“Still a chocolate fiend then?” I ask her rear end. “I always used to tell you you’d?—”

“Eat a rock if it was dipped in chocolate.” She straightens and slams the dishwasher door shut so hard the contents rattle. “Yes, I remember.” She turns to Maggie. “Thanks. But maybe later. I should get back to work.”

“Was that the backing for ‘Get the Hell Out’ you were singing when you came in?” I ask.

She turns to face me with deliberate slowness. I don’t get the smile she gave Maggie. I get a hard stare.

“Accidentally.” She folds her arms across her chest. “I loved Four Thousand Medicines before I realized you’d signed them. When I found out, I tried to quit them. Tried my hardest. But they’re too good.”

Maggie slaps her hands together with a jolly clap. “You two must have so much to catch up on.”

Obviously, that’s a terrible idea. Unless what I want to get caught up on is all the ways Hannah’s plotted to administer my slow and exceptionally painful demise. She’s had seventeen years. It’s probably quite a list. Best I leave.

“I need to finish clearing up a mess in the bedroom. I knocked over a glass and broke it.” I push back the stool.“Mopped up the water but need to go pick up the broken glass. Do you have a box or something I could put the bits in, Mags?”

“Done it,” Hannah chimes. “The glass is already safely wrapped up and in the trash outside. And I finished drying off the nightstand. And the floor. And the rug. You’d done a terrible job.”

Maggie steps toward Hannah and rests a grateful hand on her shoulder. “Such a godsend. Couldn’t be luckier to have her.”

“Well, I need to…” There must be somewhere I need to go and something I need to do that puts me out of range of the daggers shooting from Hannah’s eyes. “Yeah, I need to call the London office. To approve the job posting for my new assistant.”

And that is something I genuinely do need to do. I step toward the door.

“Life without an assistant must be tough.” Sarcasm oozes from Hannah’s voice.

“You’ve lost your assistant?” Maggie asks. “The one you’ve had for years? And liked?”

“Yeah, I promoted her to the tour publicity department just before Christmas. Guess I hadn’t realized she’d become as much a personal assistant as an executive one. She was a big help with all the admin for the divorce.”

I swear Hannah’s eyebrows rise just a touch at the word “divorce” before she realizes and gets them back under control.

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