Happy.
“Their names rhyme.”
I set down my fork and frowned. “Yeah. They do. Weird I never noticed.”
She shook her head. “You’re so observant in some ways and so clueless male in others.”
I shrugged. “He just loved the name Lily. So did Solange, his girlfriend.”
“She died in childbirth, right?” Hannah bit her lip. “Why is that still happening? Childbirth should be safe.”
“I don’t know. Some weird medical thing. They didn’t catch it until it was too late.” I rubbed my eyes.
Remembering what my best friend went through when his daughter was born just stirred up everything about Billy’s death. They were so linked in my mind. Lily had lost so much at such a young age.
I’d spend the rest of my life trying to give back even a fraction of what she’d lost.
“Oh.” Hannah set aside her food.
“You didn’t eat enough.” I nodded at her still half-full plate. “Want me to feed you?”
“What, am I Lily now?” Her lips twitched, but her eyes were far too heavy. The blue was like storm clouds, dark and turbulent.
“They were so in love when they made Lily.” I leaned back on my hands and gave up trying to shove the memories away. They were rooted far too deep.
I’ve got news, man. Big news.
Oh, yeah? Like what? Did Solange finally agree to move in with you?
Better. Well, she did that too. She’s moving in. Know why?
Because you told her you’d finally get a better place, one with actual windows?
No, asshole, because we’re having a baby.
“Had they been together long?”
I stared at Hannah, dragging myself back. “No, actually. They met and it was instant chemistry.” There was no denying the roughness of my voice. I couldn’t help it. There were too many parallels between my buddy’s relationship and what had happened between Hannah and I. “He told me he fell in love with her that night.”
I didn’t even know what that felt like. But I wanted to spend more time with her. I loved seeing her eyes sparkle with hidden amusement, even if it was at me. Especially when it was at me.
And every time she picked up Lily, something moved in my chest. Cracks opening up along a predetermined fault line. Then like plates of the Earth, locking into place.
Hannah toyed with a frayed thread on her sweater. Despite my admonishments, she hadn’t taken that warm bath yet or changed out of her wet clothes. At least she was seated close to the roaring fire. “Do you think that matters?”
“What?”
“Do you think it makes a difference for a baby, if their parents are in love or not?” She huffed out a breath. “I don’t mean later, while the child is growing up. I mean at the moment of conception.”
“I don’t know.”
“Me either.” She drew her knees up to her chest and pulled her long sweater around her, almost as if she was hiding.
I didn’t know what she was getting at, but maybe this was her way of us getting to know each other.
“My parents probably weren’t, but I can’t say it made any difference in my life. I gravitated to my grandparents early on anyway. I think kids figure out how to get what they need.”
“But if it creates some fundamental feeling of lack in them…” She rested her head on her upturned knees and peered at me through the tumble of her golden brown hair. “My parents were madly in love. At least at the beginning. In later years, my father got bored. Turned into a bit of a daredevil.”