Chapter 16 - The Husband Who Came Home
Grant Whitmore discovered three things during the first month of his second marriage.
First, his wife stole blankets.
Second, his son considered 4:17 a.m. an acceptable time to begin the day.
Third, running a criminal empire had been considerably easier than assembling a baby gate.
“This is defective.”
Hannah looked up from the kitchen table.
“It’s a baby gate.”
“It has seventeen pieces.”
“It has four pieces.”
Grant held up a metal bracket.
“Then explain this.”
“That attaches it to the wall.”
“And this?”
“The other side.”
Grant narrowed his eyes.
“The instructions are intentionally vague.”
Hannah slowly lowered her coffee.
“Grant.”
“Yes?”
“You once reorganized an international logistics company in seventy-two hours.”
“Correct.”
“You negotiated with men who carried guns.”
“Frequently.”
“You managed more than twelve thousand employees.”
“Thirteen thousand four hundred.”
“And you’re losing a fight with a baby gate.”
Grant looked toward Leo.
Their fourteen-month-old son sat several feet away chewing a wooden spoon.
Leo smiled.
Grant pointed at him.
“He’s distracting me.”
Hannah burst out laughing.
Life after Amalfi had not magically become perfect.
That had surprised Grant.
Some foolish part of him had imagined their second wedding would draw a clean line through the past.
It didn’t.
Hannah still occasionally became quiet when his phone buzzed late at night.
Grant still woke from dreams in which he arrived at Bassett Medical Center too late.
Sometimes they argued.
Sometimes Hannah needed space.
Sometimes Grant became overprotective.
But now they talked.
Pain no longer became silence.
Fear no longer became control.
And Grant had moved into the farmhouse.
His Westchester mansion had been sold.
Most of his remaining Manhattan properties were gone.
He retained a legitimate consulting interest in Whitmore Logistics, enough to provide more money than several generations could reasonably spend.
But his schedule had changed dramatically.
Monday through Wednesday belonged to business.
Thursday belonged to whatever Hannah needed.
Friday belonged to Leo.
Sunday belonged to family.
Saturday, according to Hannah, belonged to fixing things Grant had broken while attempting to fix other things.
This Saturday’s casualty was the baby gate.
The doorbell rang.
Grant immediately looked toward the driveway.
Hannah noticed.
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“The suspicious-eyebrow thing.”
“I don’t have a suspicious eyebrow.”
“You absolutely do.”
Grant opened the door.
Daniel Bennett stood outside.
Grant’s suspicious eyebrow became significantly more suspicious.
Daniel held up a medical textbook.
“Hannah left this at the hospital.”
“Of course she did.”
Daniel smiled.
“Good morning to you too.”
Hannah appeared.
“Daniel!”
Grant looked at her.
She looked suspiciously happy to see him.
Daniel handed her the textbook.
“Your notes are terrifying.”
“They’re organized.”
“You color-coded seven different types of neonatal complications.”
“Exactly.”
Grant leaned against the doorway.
Daniel glanced at him.
“Something wrong?”
“No.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m standing.”
“You’re standing aggressively.”
Hannah covered her face.
“Both of you stop.”
Daniel laughed.
“I should go.”
Grant nodded immediately.
“Drive safely.”
Hannah elbowed him.
Daniel started toward his car.
Then turned.
“Oh, Hannah. Saturday.”
Grant’s head snapped up.
“What Saturday?”
Daniel ignored him.
“Hospital fundraiser. Seven-thirty. Don’t forget.”
“I won’t.”
Daniel left.
Grant closed the door.
Silence.
Hannah returned to her coffee.
Grant followed.
“What fundraiser?”
“The pediatric wing.”
“You didn’t mention it.”
“I forgot.”
“With Daniel?”
“With approximately four hundred people.”
“Will Daniel be one of those four hundred?”
Hannah slowly smiled.
Grant realized too late that she was enjoying this.
“Possibly.”
“Interesting.”
“Is it?”
“Not particularly.”
Hannah took another sip.
“Daniel asked whether I’m bringing my husband.”
Grant tried to remain expressionless.
“And what did you say?”
“I said I wasn’t sure.”
Grant stared at her.
Hannah lasted three seconds.
Then laughed.
“You should see your face.”
“That wasn’t funny.”
“It was extremely funny.”
“Were you planning to take me?”
“I bought your ticket two weeks ago.”
Grant looked offended.
“You’re manipulating me for entertainment.”
“Yes.”
“Marriage counseling did not authorize this.”
“I’ll ask Dr. Levin.”
Grant stepped closer.
Hannah backed against the counter, still smiling.
“You enjoy making me jealous.”
“A little.”
“A little?”
“A lot.”
Grant placed his hands on the counter on either side of her.
“Dangerous hobby, Mrs. Whitmore.”
Her smile softened.
“Are you jealous?”
Grant lowered his voice.
“Of every man who makes you laugh.”
Hannah touched his cheek.
“You make me laugh.”
“Not enough.”
“Every day.”
That stopped him.
She kissed him softly.
Behind them came a crash.
They turned.
Leo had somehow reached the unfinished baby gate.
It lay on the floor.
Leo stood triumphantly beside it.
“Dada!”
Hannah started laughing.
Grant stared at his son.
“You planned this.”
Leo slapped the wall.
“Dada!”
“Your mother is encouraging you.”
Hannah picked Leo up.
“He’s fourteen months old.”
“He understands psychological warfare.”
That evening, after Grant finally defeated the baby gate, Hannah found him asleep on the nursery floor.
Leo was curled against his chest.
One tiny fist clutched Grant’s shirt.
Grant’s large hand rested protectively across his son’s back.
Hannah stood in the doorway.
Once, she had wondered whether Grant Whitmore could ever become the father their child deserved.
Now she understood something.
Grant had not become a different man.
He had become the man he might always have been if fear, power and pride had not taught him to hide every gentle part of himself.
She took out her phone.
Click.
Grant’s eyes opened immediately.
“Did you photograph me?”
“No.”
“Hannah.”
She ran.
Grant carefully placed Leo in the crib.
Then chased his laughing wife down the hallway.
May you like
For once, there was nothing chasing them.
Only each other.
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