Page 21 of Brought to Light

“Ouch,” he grinned, but there was no humor in his eyes. “I just wanted to see how you’re settling in, maybe talk about...us.”

“Us?” I echoed. “There is no ‘us,’ Tom. There hasn’t been for a while now.”

“Come on, honey, I came here to play nice. Catch up. I wanted to see the big clinic you left me for. Congratulate you, and all.”

His voice dripped with condescension and bitterness. Like always, he was too preoccupied with his own desires to bother hiding such a thing.

“Look, Tom,” I said, feeling my cheeks flush with frustration, “you can’t just show up and expect—“

“Expect what, Hannah?” he interrupted, his blue eyes cold. “That you’d be happy to see me? That maybe you missed me?”

“Miss the arguments? Miss feeling like I’m second best to your job? No, I don’t miss that,” I shot back.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Alright, point taken.”

That was a first.

“I’m sorry about how I let things go. I should have been there. I should have fought for you.”

“There’s really no use in rehashing it.”

“I know, but I wanted to apologize.”

I wondered if this was a trick or if he really was turning over a new leaf. Not that it would have changed my mind, but I hoped for his sake, it was the latter.

He smiled, that charming smile of his he used to win over prospective clients and angry shareholders. “I drove all this way…why don’t we use this as an opportunity to catch up, and I’ll head back to Hartford tomorrow.”

“You’re really about to invite yourself to sleep here, aren’t you?”

“Come on, Han.” He approached the porch and slowly climbed the steps. “You’re too nice to kick me to the curb. I tried to get a reservation at the hotel downtown but they’re all booked up for some fall festival or something.” His eyes rolled like that was a ridiculous excuse, and I couldn’t help but internally cringe at the memory of me ever finding this man attractive.

“Fine, whatever. You can stay in the guest room.” I pointed my finger at him. “One night only.”

“Thank you,” he said, a bit too quickly, as if clinging to some thread of hope woven into my reluctant hospitality.

* * *

Later, we found ourselves seated across from each other at O’Reilly’s Pub, the local spot where everyone knew your name and your business. The wooden table was sticky under my fingers, and the sound of silverware clinking against plates filled the gaps in our conversation.

I brought him here rather than any of the nicer places in town because I knew it would put the sour look on his face he now wore as he turned the menu with a single finger. I took a sip of my water to avoid laughing.

We ordered, Tom insisting on getting a bottle of Cabernet, as if he were determined to look as out of place as possible.

“I’ll stick with water, thanks,” I told the waitress, and handed her my menu with a deep grin.

Without the menus to look at, the table became increasingly awkward, which I honestly didn’t think was possible. I’d excused myself to go to the bathroom just to kill time. Luckily, the food was served as soon as I got back.

“So, how’s the big city treating you?” I asked, picking at my seafood platter, the shrimp’s curled pink bodies reminding me of question marks.

“Busy as always. The firm is taking on more clients than we can handle,” Tom said, scrolling through emails on his phone with an absent-minded air that spoke volumes about his priorities.

“Sounds...fun,” I muttered, my appetite waning as I sipped my ice water.

“Look, Hannah,” he started, locking his phone and meeting my gaze. “I know I wasn’t the best at balancing work and us, but—“

“Wasn’t the best?” I interrupted, feeling a spark of irritation. “You made it clear what came first. And it wasn’t me.”

“Maybe I did, but I’m here now, aren’t I?” He spread his hands wide, as if presenting a gift I hadn’t asked for.

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