And funny, and silly, and crazy. Remember when he called you a bumblebee, Mommy?”
“I sure do!” They both laughed at the sweet memory.
“And remember when he taught me how to ride a unicorn? How does he know how to do that?”
Hannah smiled. “Cowboys know how to do lots of stuff, I guess.”
They sat snuggled together on the floor in the fading light of the playroom. Aria traced the multicolored path on top of the game box.
“I don’t want to go someplace else,” Aria whispered.
Hannah was struggling to conjure up a response that would shift the conversation when the doorbell rang.
Aria jumped out of her mother’s lap. “I’ll get it!” She scrambled out of the room before Hannah had a chance to stop her.
Hannah tried to figure out who might be stopping by at the strange hour. It was just about dinner time, so it couldn’t be the mail, and they weren’t expecting any packages.
“Aria, honey, don’t open the door,” she called after her.
Hannah heard the latch snapping open as she rounded the corner.
“Huh?” the little girl exclaimed. “Chad?”
Aria turned around to gawk at her mother, who seemed glued in place a few steps away from the door.
“Hi, I’m sorry for stopping by unannounced.”
He looked almost embarrassed, standing in the doorway with his jean jacket on and a tan cowboy hat held in his hands.
Aria started jumping in place and clapping. “We were talking about you and you came over! Yay!” She hopped across the threshold and wrapped herself around Chad’s leg. He grinned sheepishly and leaned down to pat Aria’s back.
“It’s okay,” Hannah answered haltingly, like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “Please, come in.”
Chad stepped inside with Aria still clinging to his leg.
“Can we play Candyland? We haven’t packed it yet!”
He looked slightly wounded when Aria mentioned packing. “Um, maybe in a little bit? I need to talk to your mom about something first.”
“Okay, I’ll go set everything up!” Aria took off running down the hallway towards her playroom.
“What are you doing here?” Hannah asked, her voice breaking ever so slightly.
“I wanted to talk to you in person. I’ve been doing some thinking. And there’s something I want to show you.” He half-turned so that she could see the backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Sure, okay. Come into the kitchen.”
It was hard for Hannah to speak.
Chad followed behind her and she suddenly felt self-conscious that she was wearing an oversized grey hoodie and black leggings that were dusty on the knees. She touched her hair and realized that the topknot was sagging.
“Can I make you some coffee?” Even though she was overwhelmed with Chad showing up unexpectedly, she still wanted to be a good hostess.
He shook his head. “No, I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”
Her heart sank.
“I’m sure you heard that I won the election,” he began.
“I did, and I meant to say congratulations—”
He held up his hand to cut her off. “No need. That’s not what this is about. I’m here because of you.”
Hannah furrowed. “I thought … there’s nothing left to say, Chad.”
“Oh, there’s plenty left to say. And plenty for you to see.”
Hannah frowned. “Okay, I’m confused.”
Chad pulled the bag off his shoulder and plopped it on the table with a thud. He unzipped it and pulled out a photo book.
“I thought it was time for you to take a look at something I’ve been working on for a long time. No one has ever seen this stuff before. But something I learned from you is to not be afraid to let the real me out. That cowboys can be tough and sensitive.” He held the album out to her. “Here.”
Hannah wordlessly opened it and was astounded by what she saw.
Photos so beautiful that they looked professional. Close-ups of horses, and of the sun peeping over the horizon at the ranch, and shots of his niece and nephew looking like little Baby Gap models. Some images were black and white, but most were in color.
“Chad … you took these?”
He nodded.
“They’re incredible. Why weren’t we using these for your posts? You’re a much better photographer than I am!”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
“No, it’s everything.” She continued flipping through the pages and stopped when a familiar freckled face smiled out at her. “When did you take this picture of Aria?”
“The day we went to the carousel park together. Keep going,” he urged.
The images changed from gorgeous landscape shots to photos of Aria, and then to her shock, to photos of her.
Photographed