“Yes.” Richard’s reply was crisp. He walked over to his desk and booted down his computer, packing up his laptop along with some files. As he zipped up the bag, he turned to Hanna. “Have you got Wi-Fi at your place in France?”
Hanna nodded, wondering just how long Richard was intending to stay. Then she started to worry about his intentions. He couldn’t remain in France forever. Was he going to try and take Matty away from her? He had every right to request joint custody, and no matter how much it would break her heart, she wouldn’t be able to refuse him.
She’d thought she’d be able to tell him the news, and then go back to France. She’d assumed her life would remain the same, only enhanced by the fact that Matty would get to know his dad. If her life was complicated before, it was nothing compared to what the future would bring.
Richard walked into the outer office and picked up her bag, hoisting it over his shoulder. Hanna trailed after him, her heart still racing as she thought about the future. Part of her was so excited she’d see Matty in less than a day’s time. The other half was so afraid she was finding it hard to breathe.
It remained to be seen, whether the hardest part was over yet.
Twenty Three
May 13th 2012
While leaning back in the leather seat, Richard glanced over at the small, round window, noticing they were finally over land. The patchwork of fields far below was enough for him to know they were flying over Europe; even from the sky it was so very different from the US. Smaller, prettier, it somehow suited the temperament of its inhabitants.
One of which was his son.
His son.
He could repeat the words over and again in his mind, but they weren’t sinking in. For the first time ever, he had taken a pill before getting on the plane—enough to calm his edgy nerves, and to stop him from wanting to alternately kiss and kill Hanna Vincent. She was asleep next to him, her long, mahogany hair splayed out over the headrest of the seat. Two transatlantic flights in less than twenty-four hours had knocked it out of her. The exhaustion was written across her beautiful face.
He glanced back down at his open laptop, scanning his eyes over the emails he had downloaded before getting on the plane. When he’d asked Lisa to book them on this flight, she’d automatically canceled and rearranged all of his meetings, though it looked like he’d have to do some via video conference. He hoped to hell Hanna’s Wi-Fi was up to the challenge.
Another surge of rational anger swept through him. His face contorted as he tried to control the fury, as his hands balled into desperate fists. He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t think about what she had done without wanting to cause her pain. It was killing him.
A stifled sob brought him out of the red cloud, and he turned his head to see Hanna had woken up. She was staring at him, her hand covering her mouth, cheeks shiny with tears. His anger abated, replaced by concern, and he cursed his alternating moods.
He wasn’t going to reach out and wipe away her tears. Not this time. Not even if his hand was already hovering, desperate to touch her cheek.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. “You look so angry.”
Richard took a deep breath. This was no place to have this conversation, no matter how desperate Hanna was to be absolved. The overhead lights were dimmed, but the constant movements of the stewardesses, and the numerous travelers who were walking down the aisle to the bathroom, made their cocoon anything but private. The recriminations would have to wait until they’d landed in France, until they were alone in the villa.
Until he met his son.
The seatbelt light illuminated over their heads, followed by an announcement from the head steward that they were beginning their descent. Richard stared out of the window again, amazed at the beauty of the land below. The bright white light of the morning sun pierced his eyes. New York already seemed so far behind, like a city of dreams.
“I’ve arranged for a car to pick us up from the airport.” He tried to keep his voice conversational. Being in close proximity to her was such a bad idea. Every emotion it was possible to suffer seemed to pass through him whenever he looked at her. He tried his hardest not to.
“Thank you.”
“Ruby and Tom are going to meet us at the Villa. After that they’re traveling to Monaco for a few days. It will give us a chance to sort things out.”
He could feel Hanna tense up. Her arm was millimeters away from his, and he watched as her fingers tapped nervously on the leather rest. Clutching his thigh hard, he damped down the urge to curl his hand around hers, to rub his thumb along her knuckles until she calmed.
“They’re leaving?” she asked, her voice tremulous. “I was hoping to spend a little time with Ruby.”
Richard shook his head, still staring at her hand. “I want some time with my son, away from everybody else.”
Another barely contained sob. He didn’t need to look at her to know she was biting her lip. He knew everything about this girl; the way she laughed, the way she cried.
The way she lied.
The plane was descending fast, and he could feel his ears numb up as they tried to adjust to the altitude. Hanna reached forward and grabbed a bottle of water from the cup holder and started to gulp rapidly. He’d forgotten how sensitive her ear canals were, but now he could remember in stark resolution those few flights they took together from New York to London, and how he’d stroke her hair as she swallowed desperately, trying to equa
lize the pressure in her head.
He licked his dry lips. He wasn’t going to look at her.