Page 18 of Living for Truth
It takes everything in me not to smirk because I think my newfriendmight be jealous. “Not very often, but it’s Alyssa’s favorite place, so we try to come once every few months on dates.”
Hannah freezes, and I realize my mistake immediately. I haven’t told her about my daughter, so I can only imagine what she’s thinking.
“Alyssa is my nine-year-old daughter. I take her on dates pretty often to show her how she should be treated when she starts dating. Plus, it gives us time to spend together and catch up outside of the monotony of our everyday life.”
Hannah’s shoulders sag in what I imagine is relief. “Oh. That’s actually really sweet. She’s one lucky girl.”
“Are you upset I never mentioned her before?” I don’t think she is, but I want to make sure.
She shakes her head. “No, not at all. I was just worried you were married or something. It doesn’t change how I see you, other than I get to add ‘good dad’ to the list of characteristics I like.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “Wait. If she’s nine, how old are you? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Not at all. I’m thirty-six.” Which has me wondering, “How old are you?”
Hannah’s cheeks pink again. “I’m twenty-six, almost twenty-seven.”
I blink. “When did you get married?”
“At eighteen. Four months out of high school. He was in the single young adult ward I went to after graduation, and it was a whirlwind romance, I guess.” She shrugs like that’s normal. Which, I guess, in Utah it probably is.
“You don’t want to be friends with a twenty-six-year-old divorcée anymore, do you?” she tries to joke, but it lands flat.
Of–fucking–course I still want to be friends with her! Well,more thanfriends, but friends for now until she knows she can trust me and she understands I won’t break her heart. It’s not like she’s sixteen, and I’m twenty-six—that would be creepy as hell. We’re both well into adulthood.
“I’m still excited as fuck to be your friend, Hannah. I personally think age is just a number past a certain point in your life, and since both of our prefrontal cortexes are fully developed, I don’t see why we can’t be friends. Unless you’re freaked out by me being a single dad?”
“No, it doesn’t bother me. It actually makes me like you more.” Her smile is soft but genuine, and it makes my stomach flutter. I’m glad revealing I’m a single dad didn’t scare her away.
Cody brings our food, and we eat while we talk. I hoard every new piece of information she gives like they’re gems, and I’m a dragon. I hang on every single word that comes out of her exquisite mouth, and by the end of brunch, I’m certain of one thing.
Hannah is my future, and I’ll wait as long as I have to for her to see that.
Chapter 7
Hannah
Somehow, I made it home safely even though my mind wasnoton the road in front of me. It was on the information I learned at brunch, and now my brain won’t stop going over it all.
Morgan is aman.Not just any man, butthe hotman from the flower shop. That he owns. He has a daughter. He’s ten years older than me. He’s charming, understanding, funny, and very patient with my indecisive, blunt self.
And what did I do? I friend-zoned him.
Why would I do that? He was very clearly interested in me romantically for some reason I don’t understand, so why didn’t I just jump in?
Oh, I remember.
My ex-husband did a number on my self-esteem and gave me hella trust issues.
I was so embarrassed when Morgan asked how old I was when I got married. Looking back now, it wasreallyweird for Liam to be so interested in an eighteen-year-old as a twenty-two-year-old. We dated for all of two months before he proposed, and two months after that we were married.
Because of the church’s strict dating rules, Liam was my first real boyfriend. I wasn’t allowed to date anyone exclusively until I turned eighteen. I didn’t have a lot of prior experience with boys or dating, so when I was approached by a handsome returned missionary, I didn’t know better. All I knew was that I was supposed to get married.
We got married and moved into BYU married housing so I could get my Masters of Library Science and he could get his MBA. He would make comments about how if I got pregnant, I’d probably have to quit school to be a stay-at-home mom, and I was okay with that. So when I got pregnant four months after our wedding, I was prepared to finish the semester, give birth, then stay home with the baby while he worked and went to school.
Except I miscarried at ten weeks. The doctors didn’t have a reason for me other than, “Sometimes these things happened.” I wasdevastated.I told Liam I didn’t want to try again for at least six months, and he agreed.
Fast forward seven years and six miscarriages later. I was on multiple medications for depression, anxiety, and hormonal imbalances, which—coupled with the stress from the miscarriages—made me gain a lot of weight, and Liam said he no longer found me attractive. I was never a skinny girl, but my curves were more accepted before I got pregnant. He wanted me to look like the eighteen-year-old I was when we met. He wanted someone who could carry his biological children and havethem “naturally.” He shot down my ideas of IVF and adoption whenever I brought them up. I didn’t think my body—or mind, for that matter—could handle another miscarriage.
He blamed me for each one. He told me it was my fault because I didn’t “have enough faith,” and I was “selfish” for wanting a degree instead of a family.
