were coming together, plans that would free them from all these complications so they could just… be. Once he told her, and everything was wrapped up neatly, he could shout from the rooftops that Hannah Kabbah belonged to him. Until then, she could be as cautious as she wanted, even if it hurt. He was a patient man. So, so patient. Really fucking…
He watched as Hannah slipped through the crowd and wandered, alone, into the hallway.
Ah, screw it.
He followed.
She was hovering by the window beside the front door, peeking out between the curtains. Nate smiled as he watched her, then grinned wider when she turned around and jumped at the sight of him.
“Oh,” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Jesus, Nate!”
“Sorry. Looking for your friend?”
“Who, Rae?” She bit her lip. “She keeps texting me reasons why she’s late. But I don’t think she’s coming. I think she’s shy. No, I was looking for Zach.”
“Ah. Well, maybe she’ll turn up eventually.” He reached out and caught her hand. She let him, a reluctant smile teasing her lips—so he pushed his luck and twined their fingers together, pulling her closer.
“Bad idea,” she whispered.
He raised her knuckles to his lips. “I know. But I have something to tell you.”
“Now?”
“No, not now. I wish. Later. I’m just getting ahead of myself.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her, letting her feel his adoration with every slow glide of their lips. I hope I’m not alone in this. I hope I’m not wrong about the way you look at me.
When he pulled back, the expression on her face was sweet enough to melt him completely. She smiled hazily, her gaze warm and soft, and Nate’s heart bounded around his chest like an excitable puppy.
Then a knock came at the door and she practically leapt away from him.
There was no logical reason for that to sting. They were a secret. They had to be a secret, for now. But that reality didn’t quite fit with his need to kiss the tension out of her whenever and wherever he damn well pleased.
Hannah opened the front door to reveal Zach standing with his hands in his pockets, his hair still damp. “Let me guess,” he said dryly. “You threw me a party.”
She gave a mock-gasp. “How did you know?”
“I’m psychic. Or I just saw thirty-odd people and a shit ton of balloons through the window.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you’re late to your own surprise,” Nate winked, stepping forward to pull his brother into a hug. “Happy birthday, man.”
Nate didn’t get a second with Hannah for the next two hours. Not a single second. Every time he caught her eye, she looked away. Every time he manoeuvred past chattering guests to reach her, she disappeared like smoke. At one point he caught her in the kitchen eating a spring roll, which confirmed what he’d already suspected: she was freaking out about something. Because Hannah didn’t even like spring rolls, but she’d probably eat a tree branch if she was stressed enough.
As soon as he asked her what was wrong, though, that bloody sister of hers appeared. Ruth Kabbah looked exactly like Hannah, except for her permanent glare—Hannah’s was only semi-permanent—and the fact that she seemed to be wearing pyjamas. For some reason, whenever she was around, Hannah got as uptight about ‘unnecessary familiarity’ as she did in front of the kids. Like Ruth was still five, or something. So he had to let her go. And he didn’t miss the way Ruth eyed him suspiciously as she and Hannah wandered off arm in arm.
Nate couldn’t shake the oddest feeling that something was slipping through his fingers.
Maybe that was why, the next time he saw Hannah alone, he didn’t give her a chance to get away.
Hannah was searching through the fridge for a snack—the party food had depleted tragically over the course of the evening—when Nate appeared behind her. He put his hands on her waist, the brief contact lighting her up, and murmured, “Come outside.”
She stiffened, and not just because anyone could walk into the kitchen and see them. She’d been trying so desperately to cut back the uncontrollable, overgrown weed that her feelings towards him had become—but they still sprawled over the garden of her mind like some kind of dandelion infestation. All it took was a touch from him and she forgot to be sensible.
It was making her nervous.
“Why?” she asked, staring into the fridge as if it could save her