I did believe them. Kevin, who owned the cabin, was my first and best friend in Colorado. Nate’s loyalty was unquestionable. As for Seth, little though I liked him, I trusted his word. I also knew he had no desire to drag Hannah deeper into my mess.
Hannah squinted at the podium, then at her feet. After a while, she said, “I just want your aunt and uncle to like me. The way they looked at me, at your memorial…”
“That was different. Everyone thought you wrote Night Owl then. Hannah—” I took her hand and led her out of the church. It struck me as strange that I’d shared my story with her and all she wanted to know was if we might see Nate tomorrow. “I’m marrying you. We’re only here to tell them, not to get their approval.”
“But you wanted my dad’s approval.”
“These people aren’t my parents.” I pulled her toward the car.
“How can you say that?” She dawdled, gazing over her shoulder at the church. I felt myself freezing up inside. Chilling toward her. “It’s so … ungrateful, Matt.”
“Am I supposed to be grateful that my parents died? My parents would have loved you, and you’re what I want. A simple girl—” The words tumbled out without a thought, and I gaped.
Hannah’s hand stiffened in mine.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said, but I couldn’t take it back.
The dull impact of my words receded. Hannah swallowed and trailed me to the car.
I’d turned to ice inside. No meaningful emotion could pass from me to her. We drove back to the Fudge Shoppe in silence. I ran the church key in to Stephen and bought a little bag of toffee and chocolate brittle. I plopped the candy on Hannah’s lap; she mumbled a thank-you.
Fuck. I could see her pulling away from me—wondering who the hell I was, to call her “a simple girl.” But I’d meant something different … something better.
We returned to Morristown.
I’d envisioned a day spent in Flemington, and me opening up to Hannah completely. So much for that. We got back to the hotel by two. Hannah went straight up to the room for a nap, insisting she wasn’t hungry. I sat alone in Rod’s, the hotel restaurant, and ordered a cup of crab bisque and a glass of Coke.
I stirred the soup and broke the crab cake into tiny pieces with my spoon.
Hell, I wasn’t hungry either.
A simple girl … what I wanted. Couldn’t Hannah understand? I didn’t want the affectation surrounding my aunt and uncle. I also didn’t want the middle-class life on which my parents insisted; I didn’t share their humble values. I wanted something uniquely ours—something natural for us.
I shoved away my soup. It had been a mistake to go to Flemington—to see that old sunlight and remember. Stupid.
I drank my Coke, paid the bill, and stalked out across the hotel lawn.
God, I despised this blanket of humidity.
I gave Nate a call and asked if it wouldn’t be too much trouble for him to drive to Ella and Rick’s tomorrow. “Hannah asked for you,” I said. “Moral support or something.”
“Does she need moral support?” Nate sounded affable, as always, and I sounded half-unhinged, as always.
“Hell if I know,” I snapped. “She thinks they hate her.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I called her a simple girl. God, I said that today.” I leaned against a tree.
“‘Simple’?” Nate chuckled. “Well, she is very sweet.”
“Mm, but how could I say that? She’s hurt. Pissed. I don’t know.”
“I’m sure. Give her time. Apologize. Be good to her, Matt. She’s a gem.”
“I know she’s a fucking gem. I am good to her. I’m the best I can be.”
“Better than this, I hope.” He yawned in my ear and I glowered at the grass. “I’ll see if Val feels up to visiting Ella and Rick tomorrow. Either way, I’ll drive up.”
“Thank you.”
“Not at all. It’ll be great to see you two.” Again, he urged me to apologize to Hannah—he was the nettling good angel on my shoulder—and said good-bye.