Chapter 43 Unfamiliar territory
Timothy
I walked into chaos.
Something small and fast shot past my legs, a blur of fur and enthusiasm, nearly tripping me as it skidded across the marble floor. Before I could process it, Hannah came running after it, breathless, hair loose from its tie, calling out…
“Momo! Momo, stop…”
She skidded to a halt when she saw me, then lunged again and finally scooped the wriggling creature into her arms. The puppy, Momo apparently,wiggled, tail thumping against her forearm like it had discovered joy for the first time.
She looked up at me, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “Oh…hi. Sorry. He got out of the lounge room.”
I stared at the dog. Then at her.
“Hi,” I said, because apparently we were doing that now.
She smiled, a little sheepish, a little proud. “I… I adopted him.”
I nodded once. “I figured.”
Her brows knit together. “You did?”
“Yes.” The word came easily. I surprised myself by adding, “The way you were holding him yesterday. It wasn’t exactly the posture of someone planning to give him up.”
Something in her expression stilled.
Then, against my will, a small huff of laughter escaped me it was quiet and unconscious.
But it happened.
The silence that followed was immediate and heavy, as if the house itself had paused to take note. Hannah stared at me like I’d just spoken in another language.
I realized dimly and uncomfortably that she’d never heard me laugh. Not ever. Not anything like that.
Her grip tightened on the puppy. “You… laughed.”
I cleared my throat. “Don’t read into it.”
Her lips twitched anyway.
I changed the subject, because I needed ground that didn’t feel like it was shifting under my feet. “So. Momo.”
Her face lit up fully now. “Yes! That’s his name.”
“Momo,” I repeated, testing it. It sounded… soft. Like her.
She hesitated, then stepped closer, holding the dog out slightly. “You can pet him, if you want.”
I stiffened instinctively. “I’m fine.”
She laughed, light and unguarded. “He doesn’t bite. He just thinks everyone is his best friend.”
“I’ll just take your word for it.”
She didn’t push. Instead, she nodded and adjusted Momo in her arms. “I’ll uh…leave you to freshen up.”
She turned to go, then paused as I spoke again, the words leaving my mouth before I’d fully decided on them.
“Hannah.”
She turned back immediately. “Yes?”
“Would you… join me for dinner?”
The surprise on her face was unmistakable. “Dinner? Tonight?”
“Yes.”
She blinked. Once. Twice. “I…um. Yes. Yes, I can.”
I nodded, suddenly stiff. “Good. In… an hour.”
She smiled again,smaller this time, careful, like she didn’t trust the moment not to vanish if she moved too quickly. “Okay. See you.”
She walked away, puppy tucked securely under her chin.
I stood there longer than necessary after she disappeared, the echo of her footsteps lingering.
What are you doing? I asked myself.
I didn’t have an answer.
Upstairs, the shower helped. The heat, the water, the familiar ritual of washing the day off my skin grounded me. I changed into something simple,dark lounge pants, a soft tshirt and forced my shoulders to relax.
It was just dinner. That was all.
When I reached the dining room, she was already there, seated properly, hands folded in her lap. She’d changed too. Nothing extravagant. Just… her. Clean. Soft. Real.
We sat.
Staff served quietly. Plates clinked. The room filled with the smell of warm food.
We ate in silence at first, the kind that wasn’t hostile but wasn’t comfortable either. I caught her glancing at me, then quickly looking away when our eyes met. I did the same, irritation prickling at my own lack of control.
She cleared her throat. “How was your day?”
I looked up, surprised by the normalcy of the question.
“Busy,” I replied. “Meetings. Investors. The usual.”
She nodded, as if that meant something tangible to her. “Rowan was there?”
I paused. “Yes.”
“Oh.” She hesitated. “Is… is he okay?”
I frowned. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
I made a noncommittal sound and took another bite. “And you?”
Her eyes widened slightly, like she hadn’t expected the question to be returned. “Me?”
“Yes. How was your day?”
She launched into it.
Not cautiously or briefly. She talked about the shelter, about a dog that kept escaping its kennel, about Gio’s dramatic retelling of his neighbor’s love life, about a family who came in to adopt and left with three cats instead of one.
She stopped abruptly, cheeks coloring. “Sorry. I’m rambling.”
“You’re not,” I said before I could stop myself. “It’s… interesting.”
She blinked again. “It is?”
“Yes.” I hesitated, then found myself asking, “How do you handle the administrative side? Funding. Legal compliance. Staffing.”
Her eyes lit up, not with surprise this time, but enthusiasm. She explained. In detail. Clear, thoughtful answers. She knew what she was talking about. I asked more questions. She answered them all.
For the first time in a long while, dinner didn’t feel like a performance.
When we finished, the plates were cleared away, the room settling back into quiet.
She stood. “I should..”
“Hannah.” I stopped her again, less sure this time. “There’s… something.”
She sat back down slowly.
“There’s a private dinner this weekend,” I said. “With an investor. He and his wife. Would you be willing to attend?”
Her smile returned, gentler now. “I don’t think I really have the option not to.”
A pause.
“But,” she added, “I’ll be there.”
“Thank you,” I said stiffly.
She nodded. “Goodnight, Timothy.”
“Goodnight.”
She left.
I stayed where I was, staring at the place she’d been sitting, aware of a strange, hollow sensation in my chest that I didn’t recognize and didn’t like.
When I finally stood, Lisa was watching me from the doorway, brows arched sky-high.
“What?” I snapped.
She smiled, entirely too amused. “Nothing, sir.”
“Goodnight, Lisa.”
“Yes, sir,” she said brightly and laughed as I stomped away.