Page 80 of The Pink House

She remained where she was, making no effort to head inside. Unable to sit any longer, Charlie pushed to his feet. In a flash, he was crossing the lawn that separated them.

Though a tiny warning light flashed red in his head, telling Charlie to proceed with caution, he moved quickly. She looked so sad and lost standing there.

Whatever she needed, he would provide. If he could cheer her up or comfort her in some way, that’s what he would do.

If Hannah was aware of his approach, she didn’t show it. Her gaze remained riveted on the rosebush she’d planted not long after she moved in.

He inhaled deeply. The scent from the roses mingled with her clean, citrusy fragrance.

“You look lovely.” Charlie kept his voice soft, not wanting to startle her.

She spun to face him. Her brows drew together. “What did you say?”

“I said you look lovely.” Charlie gestured with one hand. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you all dressed up before. You clean up good.”

His attempt to inject a little levity fell flat.

Hannah’s gaze dropped as if she needed to remind herself what she wore before she lifted one hand to her pearls. “Thank you. Brian gave me these for my twenty-fifth birthday. Today would have been our tenth anniversary.”

“Right. You mentioned—”

“Why are you here?”

“I saw you come home and—”

“What do you want, Charlie?”

Her words, spoken in such a matter-of-fact tone, startled Charlie almost as much as the coolness that filled her eyes. She’d already turned to climb the steps to her porch by the time he found his voice.

“What’s going on, Hannah?” He gentled his tone, speaking to her back as he followed her up the porch steps. “Have I done something to offend you?”

Charlie hoped he’d misread the situation. Hoped she would say it wasn’t him and explain.

When she dropped into one of the wicker chairs, he pulled the other one close and sat down.

A startled look crossed her face, as if she hadn’t expected him to follow her. In fact, she was looking at him as if she didn’t want him there.

Panic tried to rise, but Charlie shoved it down. Something had clearly upset her. Once she told him what was troubling her, she’d feel better, and everything between them would be back to normal.

He gestured to the box she clutched in her lap and kept his voice light, Even managed to add a smile. “What do you have in there?”

“French opera cake. It was Brian’s favorite.”

The sadness in her eyes tugged at his heart. He thought about telling her he missed Brian, too, but refrained. Just like he stopped himself from reaching over and covering her hand with his.

“French opera cake, huh? I don’t even know what that is. I bet it’s good.”

Instead of explaining, as he’d expected, Hannah met his gaze, and he felt as if she was seeing him clearly for the first time since he’d sat down. “You’ve been very helpful to me in coping with my loss of Brian.”

It wasn’t so much what she said as the way she said it. Thinking of yesterday’s conversation with his mother, Charlie hesitated. Could it be that he’d misread the situation? That while he was falling in love with her, she was only working through Brian’s loss? The thought drew blood.No. No. No.

Hannah cared about him. He knew she did.

“What are you saying, Hannah?” He made sure his voice gave away none of his inner turmoil.

“We can be friends.” She met his gaze with an unyielding one of her own. “As far as being more—”

“I was training wheels.” He spoke without thinking, trying to process what was happening as his heart split in two.

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