Maybe she only wished he would.
But he didn’t.
Hannah found herself a little more emotional than planned as she made her way out into the main lobby. The guests had trickled in by now and the lobby was full, with holiday music playing in the background while the staff bustled around dispensing sweet treats—all from various Christmases around the world, from gingerbread men to Florentines topfeffernuesseand more—and filling glasses with sparkling wine.
She was happy, immediately, that there was too much to do for her to sink too deeply into the mess inside of her, because she had the feeling that once she did, there would be no climbing back out.
It was not until later, after each and every evergreen that they’d set up for this festival was lit and carolers sang before the grand fireplace, singing in at least five languages, that she found herself tucked in a corner and finally able to think about the fact that Antonluca Aniello, the man who had rocked her world entirely in New York and was the father of her son,had proposed to her.
Well, she corrected herself with perhaps the faintest hint of something like bitterness—or perhaps it was simple disappointment—that isn’t strictly true.
It hadn’t been a proposal. It had been a demand and it hadn’t had much, if anything, to do with her.
Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to get past that.
All night, she hadn’t been able to really enjoy herself here, when this was truly one of her favorite nights of the year. It was even better this year, because the hotel was full and the guests were almost universally delighted. Hannah should have been floating on cloud nine.
Instead, she found herself returning again and again to a simple truth that she didn’t want to face. Namely, that she was far more of a romantic than she’d ever thought she was.
Because there was a part of her that almost wished she’d never found out who that man in New York was. Now that she had—now that she knew—she could no longer pull out that night to escape into when she had a need for it. It was no longer her safe place, her happy place.
She’d used it as exactly that for years.
And she could admit, standing here listening to a glorious rendition of “O Holy Night” that some part of her was mourning that loss. Deeply.
Though not completely, because there had been so much gained, too. She was happy that the truth was out. She had expected it to be painful, and it had been—it was—but it had been painful to carry a baby to term and have him alone, so she supposed there was no way out of this without some measure of pain.
And as far she could tell, Antonluca understood that.
It didn’t mean he was happy about it, but after that first night, there had been little talk ofbetrayal.
Another truth was that she enjoyed spending time with him.
She had discovered, to her surprise, that they were an excellent team. Whether he had originally planned to stay here this long or not, she had found that he was an excellent person to bounce ideas off. If he didn’t know the answer to something, he knew how to find it, and always went about looking for it in intriguing ways.
Before Antonluca had found out about Dominic, Hannah had already been wrestling with the fact that she’d known him socarnally, sophysicallyonce. And then sointellectuallythese past few weeks.
It was like she only knew the man in puzzle pieces. And now he wanted her to put them all together into a form that didn’t make sense to her at all.
The carolers were singing a song about Joseph’s heart, and Hannah was entirely too aware of her own. It beat too fast. It was much too fragile.
Ithurt.
The trouble, she could acknowledge now that she was half-hidden by evergreen trees in a room filled with people who were not paying attention to her at all, was not that she didn’t want to marry Antonluca.
On the contrary. Something inside of her leaped every time she considered it.
But Hannah didn’t think that she could bear to marry a man who she knew didn’t love her.
If she wanted more of that kind of life, she could move back to Nebraska.
She felt a helpless sort of laugh bubble up inside her at that, and when Léontine looked at her askance from beside her, Hannah made herself smile and lift her glass of sparkling wine. As if to suggest she was simply getting a little silly from all the bubbles.
Being profoundly French, Léontine nodded sagely, and carried on watching the carolers.
But Hannah finally understood something she’d been avoiding for a long time.
Not that Antonluca didn’t love her. She was used to that, after all. And besides, as far she could tell, Antonluca not only didn’t love her, he didn’t love much of anything, so it wasn’t likely to feel as personal as it did when it was her parents. Who clearly loved each other and Hannah’s sister, but had used it all up by the time they got to her.
