Chapter 21

HANNAH

“Here you go,” George said, as she placed a smoked salmon quiche and side salad in front of me with a smile.

“Thank you! I was salivating over this one all shift. It looks incredible.” I smiled back up at George, my gaze following her as she returned to making coffees on Hugo.

It had been seven days since our eventful kayaking trip. Seven days since we’d decided to be just friends. And in those seven days, I’d been replaying our conversation over and over in my head.

When George had apologized for kissing me, saying it was inappropriate, disappointment had flooded through me. All I’d heard was that she thought the kiss was a mistake, and I’d instinctively gone into self-protection mode, blurting out that it was best if we just stayed friends. But as I analyzed our conversation, I couldn’t shake the feeling that George had been about to go on to say something else, and I had cut her off. She’d never actually said it was a mistake or that she wasn’t attracted to me. It was possible her only concerns with the kiss were because she was my boss. But instead of me giving her space to talk through them with me, I’d panicked and effectively shut the entire conversation down with my comment.

I sighed. At least things hadn’t felt too awkward between us—the easy, fun rapport we’d had on the kayak was still there. George had joined me for lunch after my shift twice, and last night, I’d met up with George, Olivia, Blake, and Jenny for a drink at Frankie’s. But I couldn’t escape the nagging sensation that I’d screwed up our conversation on the kayak and potentially ended it before it had properly started.

I took a bite of the quiche, which tasted just as good as it looked—crisp, buttery pastry and a creamy salmon filling—and let out a small groan of appreciation. After working from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m., I was starving, and this was exactly what I needed. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw I’d just missed a FaceTime call from Barb. She’d emailed me last week, asking if I was free for a chat, and I’d forgotten I’d told her she could call me anytime after my shift ended.

The café was fairly quiet, in a post-lunch lull, and I was sitting at a table in the corner, away from the other customers. Calling Barb back wouldn’t be too disruptive, so I pulled on my noise-canceling headphones, dialed her number, and then balanced my phone against one of Olivia’s candles so it pointed toward me. Barb’s chin appeared on the screen, wobbled, and then her entire lovely wrinkled face appeared, framed by short curly gray hair, a broad smile on her face.

“Hannah! How are you, sweetheart?”

Barb’s voice filled me with warmth.

“I’m good! Just finished my shift. I’m still at the café, eating my lunch. Hopefully it’s not too noisy. Can you hear me okay?”

“Loud and clear, my girl.” Barb narrowed her eyes at me. “I hope you’re not overdoing it with all this waitressing and your writing.”

I smiled. Barb had always been the biggest supporter of my writing, patiently listening to me telling her stories as a child, helping me transcribe them onto paper, which I illustrated, and we stapled them together like books.

“I’m only working at the café for three or four hours at the most, and so far, the writing and the waitressing seem to complement each other pretty well. I write for a couple of hours in the morning, which is all I can usually do in one go anyway, and then head down here to work. Writing is so solitary it’s nice to have some human interaction and get myself out of my head for a while, and I love it when people ask for book recommendations. And then when I get home, usually after having a delicious lunch at the café”—I lifted up my plate so Barb could see the quiche—”I’m ready to start writing again.” For the last week, I’d usually written until bedtime, only stopping for a quick meal, which I’d usually eat on the deck. I loved spending time out there, surrounded by nature.

“Oh, are you at the café now?” Barb asked, her blue eyes flashing with interest. “Can you show me?”

I grinned, lifting the phone up and slowly circling it around. “There’s the bookstore section—it’s not huge, but it has a great selection—and there’s the counter. The kitchen is behind there. And here are all the tables… And the view out the windows.” I placed the phone back on the table in front of me.

“It looks lovely. Very cozy,” Barb said.

“It really is. You’ll have to come and visit me.”

“That would be wonderful. And was that George I spotted behind the counter?” Barb’s eyes twinkled.

I pressed my lips together to conceal my smile. Had she really wanted a tour of Novel Gossip, or had she just been after a glimpse of George? I hadn’t told Barb about my feelings for George, but she’d always been very perceptive when it came to these things.

“Yes, that was George.”

“She’s very handsome,” Barb said approvingly.

I laughed. “Anyway, enough about me. How are you?”

Barb launched into an update of the latest gossip at her aged care facility. There was a new, very attractive physical therapist who some of her friends were trying to set up with their daughters. Susan’s three-year-old grandson had gone missing on a visit yesterday but was found in the kitchen, trying to convince the staff to give him “chippies.” And Barb had gotten into a very heated discussion with another resident, Bruce, about gerrymandering.

As Barb spoke and I laughed along, my chest filled with warmth. She was the energetic, positive Barb I’d known most of my life. It had been a very different story a few years ago, after she’d fallen and fractured her hip. After having a hip replacement, she’d struggled to manage on her own and had to move out of the apartment she’d lived in for decades into an aged care facility nearby. She’d hated the tasteless food, the way some staff treated her as if she was a child, and her small, dark and musty room. The place was run down and understaffed, and Barb had been completely miserable. I could tell something was wrong, but she hadn’t confided in me. It was only when I went to visit her that it became clear. The nursing home I’d moved her to was well-resourced, her room bright and airy, overlooking a gorgeous garden, and the food—while not at Novel Gossip standards—wasn’t too bad at all. They also had excellent rehabilitation services, which had resulted in her mobility significantly improving. And they were horrendously expensive.

Thank god I’d gotten my writing mojo back. If I kept up at my current pace—yesterday, I’d written eight thousand words, a personal best—I’d meet the July deadline easily. And the risk of me not being able to afford Barb’s nursing home bills anytime soon would reduce substantially.

“I’d better go. I’ve got to get ready for my session with the new PT.” Barb winked, and I laughed. “But Hannah, I’m so glad to hear you’re enjoying your new life. You know how proud I am of you, don’t you, love? Pursuing the career you wanted, even when your parents weren’t supportive, moving to New York all by yourself—and then again to Sapphire Springs. You’ve always had the courage to pursue what makes you happy, and that’s really something. A lot of people don’t.”

“Thanks for saying that. I love you. Talk to you soon.”

We hung up, Barb’s words still echoing in my brain. I’d never considered myself a particularly brave person. I’d shied away from confronting Tania about her suspected infidelity, avoided telling my parents for years about my writing career, and, most recently, gotten myself into a very awkward situation because I couldn’t bring myself to tell George that I was H. M. Stuart. But while I wasn’t good at confronting people head on, I was willing to put myself on the line in other ways to follow my dreams.

Now that I’d finally moved to the town I’d wanted to live in for years, started writing again, and made new friends, what were my dreams now?

I gazed at George standing behind the counter, speaking to a customer who was buying a stack of books, and knew the answer immediately.

I wanted a partner. Someone to share my life with, someone who I connected with on a deep emotional, intellectual, and physical level. I wanted a relationship where we cared for and supported each other, but also had a lot of fun together.

George grinned, her dimple making an appearance, as she handed the books, now carefully stacked in a bag, to the customer, and my heart stuttered.

I hadn’t been this attracted to anyone else in years, and George was kind, funny, and intelligent—all the things I’d realized I really valued in a relationship. The more time I spent with her, whether it was working, on our lunch breaks, or hanging out with her friends, the more I appreciated her.

And the more I doubted whether my concerns about dating her had been valid. I’d worried that if we started dating, and then things went badly, that I could lose the life I’d started to make here—my growing friendship with George and her friends, Novel Gossip, even perhaps my writing mojo. But the more I got to know George, the less this seemed like a valid concern. George was warm-hearted and reasonable. I couldn’t imagine her being vindictive if the relationship ended. We’d already been through a few bumps in our short friendship—the whole me not telling her I was H. M. Stuart thing and, more recently, the kiss—and both times she’d dealt with them with understanding and kindness. Her concern about the fact that she was my boss also indicated that she was someone with a strong sense of ethics and fairness. And while I hadn’t stayed friends with any of my exes, it wasn’t like it was unheard of.

I took another bite of my quiche, chewing it as I worked through my reservations.

While my concerns about starting a new relationship only months after Tania and I split up seemed sensible, it was so hard to find people you connected with. Was it really smart to dismiss a potential partner just because it wasn’t the ideal time to strike up a new relationship?

And while Tania’s and my relationship had officially only ended three months ago, the real ending had happened long before then. We’d stopped going on date nights years ago, our sex life had been pretty much non-existent, and with Tania “working late” and on weekends, we’d been more like roommates who worked together and shared mutual friends than lovers. While I was devastated when I discovered she’d cheated on me, a lot of the emotional pain I went through was facing the fact that our relationship had not been good for a while, and I had to move on, with the massive life upheaval that would bring. And that everyone but me seemed to know about her cheating.

While, until recently, I’d still been hurting about Tania, I suspected that was because I didn’t have a lot going on in my life. But as soon as I met George, started working at Novel Gossip, and became more social, I’d barely thought about her. So maybe I wasn’t really rushing into something too fast. There was also a risk that if I didn’t grab this opportunity, someone else might come along and snap George up.

George reached for a coffee cup on top of Hugo, saying something to Ben that made him laugh as she made a coffee, and I couldn’t help smiling as my insides fizzed.

There was no doubt that what I wanted was George.

And while it was quite possible she didn’t want me, because I’d shut down the conversation on the kayak I didn’t know for sure. My stomach churned at the thought of reopening the conversation. It could be extremely awkward if George wasn’t interested—would she think I just couldn’t take no for an answer? You were just telling yourself what a great person George is, Hannah. She’ll understand, even if the answer is no.

And if I didn’t do anything, nothing would happen. George would assume, quite reasonably, that what I’d said on the kayak reflected what I wanted and respect my wishes. I pressed my lips together. I had to channel some of my character Esmae’s energy, who was currently challenging her evil brother for the throne, and tackle this head on. I just needed to find a good time to do it, and now, in public at the café, was definitely not the right time.

I stood, lifting up my plate to take it back to the kitchen, suddenly eager to get home. Talking to Barb had given me additional motivation to keep writing, and I was also eager to channel the nervous energy, that’d built up from thinking about George, into something productive.

“Hey, I can take that back for you. I’m heading there now anyway,” George said, stepping out from the side of the counter with her hand out.

“Thanks!” I grinned at her. Our eyes connected and my heart fluttered.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. Do you need a lift to fruit picking tomorrow? I could pick you up around three if that works for you?” George asked.

“That would be amazing if it’s not too much trouble,” I said. The car trip could be the perfect opportunity to talk to George about us.

Walking home down the streets lined with leafy green trees, I decided to stop worrying about what I’d say to George tomorrow and focus my energy on planning what I’d write when I got home. Maybe I should try to tackle the pesky sex scene I’d skipped over the other day. To avoid losing momentum, I’d just written “[insert hot sex scene here]” and kept going, in the hope inspiration would strike at a later date. I didn’t have high hopes this would occur. Sex scenes were always a challenge for me, and the ones I’d written previously had been criticized by some for being wooden and lacking in chemistry.

Since today seemed to be all about deciding to tackle difficult things head on, I resolved to give the sex scene writing another red hot go this afternoon.

I unlatched my front gate and strode with purpose toward the front door of my cottage.

Today, I’ll write a steamy sex scene, and tomorrow, I’ll put my heart on the line with George.