Page 82 of Promise Me Nothing
I smile even through my pain at the thought of Hannah behind a camera’s lens. I’ve been observing her closely since we first met, and she has incredibly watchful eyes. She’s very aware of the people around her, picks up on mood and feeling and can see beauty in so many things.
It suits her.
“I hope it works out for you,” is the lame ass thing I manage to come up with to say in response.
I swear I feel on the verge of weeping when we round a light curve and I can see the path that leads to my house in the distance.
“This is where I’ll split off,” I say.
Hannah’s eyes connect with mine. “Can I come by and say hello to Ivy?”
Something trips over in my chest when she asks that. And I know in the depth of my soul that it’s a bad idea. But I can’t seem to verbalize that. Can’t make the words come off my tongue. Which is a good thing. Because in the same thought, I’m reminded of what I’m supposed to be doing.
Making sure Hannah feels welcome.
And time spent with Ivy can only help the cause, right?
The only thing I can seem to manage to say is, “Sure.”
So we jog up the path and back towards my house, turning right on Hermosa Ave and down a few properties before I come to an exhausted stop in front of the guesthouse garage door, which I see I forgot to close.
“Wow,” she says, her chest heaving up and down as I lean up against a wall and try to catch my breath.
“Yeah. I feel like shit.”
Hannah laughs, the sound funny and slightly adorable as it leaves her body between her own pants of breath. “I meant your house, not the run.”
I smile, though I literally feel like I’m dying while she looks like she barely took a light jog around the block.
“This place is so cute. You live here?” her eyes are taking in the guesthouse, which sits atop a small secondary garage that serves mostly as a workout space if I don’t feel like heading to the gym at my mom’s.
“This is my mother’s house,” I say, the words coming out slowly and surrounded by hard breathing. “I’m just in town visiting for a bit, so when I stay here, I stay in the guesthouse.”
She nods.
I tip my head in the direction of the main house, and Hannah follows me as I lead her through the garage and out a side door that leads to the main courtyard and the entrance to the main house.
As I’m pushing open the front door, I glance back and see Hannah frozen near the doorway leading out from the garage. Her eyes are wide as she stares at everything. The grass, the trees, the path, the house, over to the guesthouse, then back into the garage she just came out of.
“You coming?” I call over to her.
Her eyes clash with mine. “You didn’t tell me you lived in a castle,” she says.
I chuckle. “Calloway Castle is pretty well-known in the area.” I lean against the doorway and cross my arms.
“You Hermosa Beach boys and all your money and fancy houses,” she teases, and I can’t help but smile back at her.
“You gonna stand out here all day or do you want to see Ivy?”
At that, she lights up, and her feet begin to move her in my direction. Up the few stairs leading into the entry and then inside.
Hannah Morrison is inside my house.
I never thought I’d see the day.
Grabbing my phone out of my pocket I flick off a text.
Me: I have a present downstairs. Come and get it. Hurry!
