Page 41 of Until Hanna

She doesn’t answer, obviously, but she does get up and trot to the kitchen, placing herself in front of her dish. With a sigh, I dump a can of her favorite wet food into her bowl, then hurry back to my room for my cell phone.

I send a message to Walker, letting him know I’m going to be upstairs with Mrs. Lewis, in case he comes back and I’m not here. Then I unlock and open my front door, twisting the one on my knob before pulling it closed behind me. I carefully maneuver up the stairs to the second floor, where the smell of lavender and vanilla greets me as I knock.

“Hanna,” Mrs. Lewis answers with a smile. I don’t hug her like I want. I learned rather quickly living in London that not everyone appreciates being hugged, so I’ve had to curb that habit. Instead, I grab her arm and air kiss her cheek.

“Good morning.” I shut the door behind myself and follow her down the hall and into the sitting room. Unlike my apartment, hers has not been updated in the last ten years. I mean, sure, there have been some things done, but I always feel like I’m stepping back in time. Especially with the amount of lace and frill mixed with antiques and paintings that look like they belong in a museum.

“Sit and I’ll bring the tea.”

“I can help.”

“I’ve got it.” She waves me off, and I take a seat on her floral loveseat. Like my grandmother, who is about her age, she moves slow but with purpose and is back in a couple of minutes with a silver tray and tea set, then disappears once more. She returns with a three-tiered stand full of sandwiches, then scones, and then cookies on the bottom plate.

Having done this with her more than a few times, I pour each of us a cup of tea and add one sugar cube to mine along with a splash of milk.

I take a sip and sigh. I don’t love tea, but there is something about drinking it out of a fancy cup that makes it so much better.

When there is a loud bang to the right of us, I glance over at the wall, then focus on her. “I ran into Josh yesterday. He said he’s going to be doing some work here.”

“Yes. He, Tim, and Nathan have agreed to help do some repairs while they stay here.”

“That’s good.”

“I told him that it’s not necessary, but he insists the stairs are a hazard, and he’s worried about me.” She picks up her teacup with a fond smile on her face.

“He loves you.”

“He does, and it’s past time I had the work done.” She tips her head to the side. “What I would really like to talk about is the young man who was here this morning.”

“Walker.”

“Pardon?”

“His name is Walker.” I place my cup on its tiny matching saucer. “I met him on vacation.” I don’t add which vacation. I don’t know how she would feel if I told her I’ve known him for less than two weeks and he’s already staying with me in my apartment and sleeping in my bed.

“He’s very handsome.”

“He is.” I can’t help the smile that curves my lips.

“Is it serious then?”

“It’s kind of complicated.”

“Is it complicated or are youmakingit complicated?” she asks, fixing herself a plate of food, and I do the same, putting a triangle of what looks like an egg sandwich on my plate.

“That’s a good question, but I don’t know how to answer it,” I say, adding quietly, “We’re just getting to know each other, and I’m a little leery after my last relationship. I don’t want to jump into anything too quickly.”

“That’s understandable, after what happened with Benjamin,” she says gently.

Her understanding is not surprising. The night I found out Ben was married, I came home a mess, and she just happened to be downstairs checking the mail. She saw firsthand the aftereffects of that whole situation, and I cried on her shoulder for an hour while telling her the whole sorry story. When she left my apartment that evening, I got into bed and cried myself to sleep after vowing to myself to stay single for a year.

“He broke your heart.”

“Did he?” My nose scrunches. “I know he hurt me and made me question my own judgment, but I’m not sure he broke my heart. I don’t think I even loved him.”

She raises a brow.

“I mean, I loved the idea of falling in love with him, the idea of building something with him, and the idea that he could be what I was looking for. But if I’m honest with myself, I kind of knew it wouldn’t last. He would only ever give me just enough to keep me coming back, but never more than that. From spending time together to saying he wanted to meet my parents, I think he calculated every move he made. If he saw I was pulling away, he’d give me something to look forward to so I’d stick around.”

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