All for This (10 page)

T
HE WIND
is cool as it rolls off the river and through the changing leaves. Autumn in New Hope has to be one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. The leaves turn orange, red, brown, even purple, fall from the trees, and float by on the river. I’ll always associate the sound of leaves crunching underfoot with my childhood, with home.

But today, it doesn’t bring me the comfort I need. My conversation with Nate demands too much of my attention for anything to comfort me.

“Between when I left LA and when I came back to New Hope, what happened to make you take him back?”

You died.
They were the words I didn’t say, but they’ve been there, in my mind and on my tongue, since he asked the question. Are they true? Did I only go back to Max because I thought Nate was dead?

“How are you holding up?”

I look up to see Maggie pulling a chair up to the patio set behind William’s art gallery. She asked me to meet her here, and something about my carefree sister scheduling a conversation has left butterflies in my stomach.

“I’m okay,” I answer. “Emotional, but I blame the hormones.”

“Yeah,” she says, “not the fact that you’re in love with two men, wearing one’s ring, and carrying the other’s babies?”

“Well, that sums it up rather nicely.” I’ve been trying to convince myself that nothing between Max and me has changed, but I don’t invite him to stay over anymore, and every time he kisses me, I feel ashamed and confused.

“Sorry.” She shrugs. “I know something about loving two men at once. Listen,” she says after studying me for a minute. “Before you dig your heels in about staying with Max, I want you to think about it.”

I stiffen. I know Maggie loves me and has my best interests at heart, but after today, when I can still feel Nate’s lips press against mine, when his scent lingers on my skin, this is the last thing I need.

“I have thought about it, and I made my decision—weeks ago, before the accident. I put on his ring.”

“I’m saying don’t blindly trust a decision you can’t remember making. Ask yourself if you would choose Max again today—at this very moment—if you had to make your decision again.”

“I don’t know.” If I’d known that my night with Nate left me pregnant, who knows what my choice would have been? “No matter what I do, someone gets hurt.”

“Stop trying to figure out why you made the choice then and start trying to figure out what choice is right for you now. You’re trying to protect Max, and as much as he wants to marry you, I don’t think that’s where he would want your decision to come from.”

“I don’t want to hurt him,” I whisper. “He’s too good. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“I know, sweetie.”

I watch a young couple jog by along the river. “How did you know? When you decided to be with Asher, to move in with him, how did you know it was the right decision?”

“Hanna.” She waits until I look at her. “I knew because I didn’t have to ask myself if I was making the right decision. When I was engaged to Will, I kept asking myself over and over again if I was doing the right thing. I would mentally tally all the reasons I should marry him and feel guilty for questioning it, and then the next day, the next hour, sometimes even the next minute, I’d do it all over again. But that should have been my first hint.” She smiles then takes my hands in hers. “I know you’re a grown woman and you have your head on your shoulders better than I probably ever will, so it seems ridiculous for me to give you advice, but I’m going to anyway. Give Max his ring back.”

“Maggie—”

“Hear me out. Please?”

“Okay.” But my stomach twists into a painful knot because I’m scared that I won’t want to hear what she has to say.

“Maybe you’re meant to be with Max. Maybe you two will work this out and you’ll have these babies and find that all you want is to spend your life with Max at your side. Maybe there will come a day that he’ll tell you all he needs is you and you’ll be as sure as I am with Asher.” She cocks her head and gives me a sad smile. “But, sweetie, it’s all over your face that you’re not there now. I’m not saying this because I’m Nate’s friend and trying to give him a foot-up. I’m saying this because you’re my sister and I love you, and I refuse to see you make the mistake that Krystal and I almost made. You owe it to yourself and to Max to give back that ring until you know for sure what you want.”

A tear splashes onto the glass tabletop, and I stand up and walk down the stairs to the lawn. Maggie’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. But I’ve been putting off the inevitable.

Maggie wraps an arm around me. I lean my head against her shoulder as she smooths my hair and we watch the wind play in the leaves and the blue evening sky turn to the pink and orange of the setting sun.

It’s been ten hours since the kiss, but when I open the door to meet Max at his new rental house, I can still feel the pressure of Nate’s lips against mine. I can still smell his clean scent as if it’s been branded to my clothing.

The house is nice. Nothing fancy, but it’s clean and functional. The table is set, the candles are lit, and the wine is chilling in a bucket of ice on the island.

Max is at the stove, cooking dinner, with Claire strapped to his chest in a baby carrier. He’s humming softly as he stirs chicken and vegetables in a sauté pan, and Claire’s eyes open and float closed again and again.

I’m slammed with a vision of our future together, raising Claire and the twins side by side. Max is the kind of guy who would treat them all as his own, and he’ll be the kind of husband who cooks dinner when I have to work late or just because. I’ll have my bakery and he’ll have his health club. Once we’re married, I’ll have access to my trust fund, so money won’t be so tight, and even if it were, we’d make it work. He’d hold my hand when I worried about something, kiss my forehead and reassure me. He’ll be an amazing husband and father. Everything I could have ever wanted or dreamed.

But he’ll never be Nate Crane, and every day we’re together, I will hate myself for being so completely and painfully aware of that.

Max shouldn’t have to be Nate. Because he’s an amazing and wonderful guy just as he is.

I press my hand to my lips and stumble back a few steps because things could have been different. If I’d figured out how to accept myself, my body, before he asked me out, they
would
have been different. I’d be looking at a future with an amazing man holding my hand rather than bracing myself for one where I raise my children alone.

Max wouldn’t want me to marry him if he knew the decision was motivated by my desire to protect him.

He takes the pan off the stove and turns to pour its contents into a bowl on the island. When he spots me, his face lights up, and that makes me feel even worse.

Maggie’s right. Whatever I decided before the accident and why I made that decision is irrelevant.

“L
ET ME
put her down.” Hanna reaches her arms out for Claire, and I gently remove her from the carrier.

She is going to make an amazing mother. She snuggles Claire against her chest and hums softly as she paces around the living room. The two people in this world I would do anything for. My woman. Holding my daughter.

“Goodnight, Claire,” she whispers, carefully lowering her into the crib in the corner. “You sleep well knowing you have the best daddy ever.”

“Come over here,” I murmur.

She’s in a red, strapless sundress tonight, and the sight of her legs and the bare, soft skin of her shoulders is slowly making me lose my mind.

She scans the table and then meets my eyes as the music kicks on. “Max…”

“I wanted to do something nice for you.” I take her hands and squeeze her fingers. “Someday, I’ll be able to take you to fancy restaurants in Indianapolis and Chicago instead of cooking for you. Someday, I’ll be able to buy you the kind of gifts you deserve and surprise you with weekends away at luxurious spas. You deserve it, and I’ll make it happen.”

She closes her eyes, and I count the beats of my anxious heart as I wait. “I don’t care about all that.”

“I love you, Hanna. I just want you to wake up every day and know—without a doubt in your mind—that you’re engaged to a man who loves you and wants to make up for being blind for so many years.”

“I’ve loved you since I was thirteen.” She removes her hands from mine, and the first prickling of dread starts its ominous crawl toward my heart. “And I still think you’re one of the best men I have ever met.”

“Hanna.” We both know where this is going. “What happened?”

Her eyes fill with new tears, and I see what’s coming all over her face. I’ve seen it coming all week.

“Don’t do this.”

“I have to.” She puts her hand to the side of my face then drops it quickly, as if touching me costs her. “You loved me and sacrificed for me—you knew the bakery was my dream and you went to extraordinary measures to make sure I got it. I’ll pay you back and I’ll never forget.”

My lungs are tight and I can’t make them take air. “You changed the way I see the world. You made me see what love could be. The bakery is nothing compared to that. I would do anything
for you.”

“I know,” she says, and fat tears roll down her cheeks. “And don’t you think it’s time that goes both ways?”

“Don’t.”

“You deserve better than me.”

I want to object. To tell her she’s so wrong—that a future with her in any form is better than I deserve—but my throat is thick with emotion and there’s no room for words.

She tilts her head to the side, and more tears stream from her eyes as she pulls my grandmother’s ring from her finger. She may as well be ripping out my heart.

She takes my hand and presses the ring into my palm. “I can’t be with you when my heart’s not mine to give, and I won’t ask you to wait for me anymore.”

“Are you leaving me for him? Is he going to give you a future? Commitment? Raise the babies by your side?”

She shakes her head. “This isn’t about him. New Hope is my home, and LA is his. I’m not going anywhere.”

I can’t help myself anymore, and I gather her into my arms, pulling her against my chest. “Don’t do this. I know you don’t remember, but you chose me. There was a reason you chose me.”

She lets me hold her for a few breaths, and I can feel her tears soaking through the cotton of my shirt. I breathe in her scent, and when I pull away, regret is all over her face.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she says, her eyes moist.

I want to kiss her. Hold her. Beg her to reconsider.

“I need to leave,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

My grandmother’s ring bites into my palm as I watch her head out the door.