Chapter Eleven
Hannah
Her airlocked chestrefused to decompress. Yes, she minded. She minded a lot.
Somehow, she managed to speak. “Why are you here?”
“I want to talk to you.”
The speed with which her shock turned to rage left her dizzy. Blood pounded against the top of her head and drummed at her ears. How did he even dare? Especially now, when she was so happy? “We have nothing left to say to each other.”
“Please, Hannah.”
The naked plea in his voice made her even more angry. It meant something had gone wrong and he needed her to help sort it out. Their long history together also meant she was about to give in, making her furious with herself for it, too. At what point in their relationship had she become the one who’d fixed all his problems? When had she turned into his mother?
Why had he never grown up?
Because he’d never had to. And she was at least partly to blame.
She didn’t want him in her personal space, however. They’d shared everything since they’d become a couple in high school, but not anymore. The Grand Master Brewery was all hers. So were the memories associated with it. Those memories included Dallas.
“I’ll meet you for coffee,” she said. “There’s a little place on the waterfront called the Wayside Café. How about ten o’clock?”
The Wayside was a cute little hipster café that Hannah had only visited once or twice but really enjoyed. It smelled delicious. She arrived early and bought a coffee and a freshly baked chocolate croissant from the gleaming display cabinet for herself.
The morning was overcast and chilly—fall was on its way—but even so, she chose a round, cast-iron, two-seater table on the outdoor patio that overlooked the Yellowstone River. She admired the view of the quiet waters drifting past while she waited. A few boats were out, but they stayed well away from the boardwalk. Birds cried on the wetlands nearby. Something splashed in the water.
She yawned. Dallas had kept her up most of the night—something that hadn’t happened in… ever. He was fun, and yet, he managed to be responsible, too. She didn’t know where their relationship was headed, but after months of upheaval she was finally in a good place, and she wasn’t about to let Tim ruin it for her.
The door to the café opened. Tim appeared, coffee and muffin in hand, at exactly the same moment the sun burst through the clouds.
Of course it did. It always shone on him.
He looked much the same. Thinner, perhaps. Blond haired and blue eyed, he’d been the handsomest boy at Sweetheart High. She’d thought he was perfect. She’d crushed on him for months before he finally noticed her and asked her out. He’d played football back then and continued to carry the self-confidence that went with it to this day.
But the confidence Dallas displayed was far different from this. He cared about people. Tim, on the other hand, had already proven he cared about no one but himself. Why had it taken an affair for her to see it? When had he stopped seeming so perfect?
“Hannah.”
Tim’s voice caressed her in a way that had once made her feel so special. Not anymore. She glanced at her phone, checking for messages—nothing from Dallas—and barely acknowledged his greeting. “I’ve only got a few minutes,” she said, before stowing the phone in her purse. “I’m scheduled to meet with one of my suppliers in half an hour.”
“Thanks for seeing me.” Cast-iron chair legs scraped the weathered wood of the deck as he sat down across from her. He blessed her with a smile dripping with fondness. “You look as beautiful as ever.”
She couldn’t remember the last time he’d told her she was beautiful. Dallas, on the other hand, said it often and always sounded as if he meant it, too. She could see it in his eyes when he looked at her, too. He made her feel as if the world revolved around her, as trite as that sounded.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asked, impatient for Tim to get to the point. What was so important that he had to drive all the way to Grand for it?
“I had to see you.”
Hannah waited. He was uncomfortable with whatever he wanted to say. In the past, she would have helped him out. She saw no reason to make things easier for him now.
“What have you been up to? How is the brewery?” he asked. “From the looks of it, our business plan appears to be earning its A-plus.”
Ourbusiness plan. Notyours.
A red haze clouded her vision. She blinked it away. She’d allow him to claim a share in the original idea, but the plan she’d ended up using was all hers and he couldn’t take credit for that.
“I had to revise it significantly to make it fit a one-person operation, but I’ve managed to make it work,” she said.