The table was set with a heavy white cloth. The cutlery was laid precisely, two wine glasses at each setting. In the middle, a silver candelabra held three tapered candles, glowing from the flames flickering above. Richard pulled her chair out and she sat down, letting him push her back in.
“This looks amazing.” Hanna looked around the room, her eyes wide with excitement. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“I wanted to.” His voice was thick. He walked over to the sideboard, pulling their plates from the warmer. “I told you I want to do this properly.”
As he sat down opposite her, he reached for the bottle of Merlot, pouring them each an over-full glass. Hanna wondered who he was trying to get drunk; her or himself.
“Did Matty go down all right?” she asked, lifting her cutlery and spearing a piece of carrot with her fork.
“Fine. He was asleep before I even got to the second page of his book. He must have worn himself out at the park.”
Or maybe he knew his parents needed a little alone time.
“You’re so good with him.” She glanced up. “Thank you.”
Richard shrugged. “I’m his father.”
“I know, I remember the conception.” Suddenly her cheeks burned. She wanted to whack herself around the head for her inappropriate comments. Reaching out, she picked up her wine glass, tipping her head back to take a large mouthful.
“So do I,” Richard replied softly.
She couldn’t look at him; she couldn’t. Yet her eyes drew up as if pulled by magnets.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she admitted, making Richard laugh.
“Don’t be. You always were honest. It’s one of the things I love about you.”
Love. She swooned again, wanting to pour the whole wine bottle down her throat. Her body was tense with anticipation.
“You know, I was thinking today, in between talking to my lawyer and the shrink, that we’re essentially an old married couple.” He lifted the bottle of merlot and topped up both their glasses. “We live together, have a child together, and we spend the evenings talking deep into the night about things which concern us most.” He glanced up at her through thick, dark lashes. “All that’s missing is the sex.”
Hanna spluttered, coughing out her mouthful of wine. She lifted the napkin from her lap and used it to dab at her mouth, wishing she could hide herself behind it.
“And the ring,” Richard continued. “We’re missing that, too.”
“Don’t forget the fabulous wedding album. We can look at it and reminisce all about the way our families fought and hated us, and ended up throwing plates at each other.” She grinned at him. “No old married couples are complete without that.”
Richard raised his eyebrows at her. “I’m not kidding. I know we have a lot to work through, but eventually I intend to marry you. I want you and Matty to be Larsens.”
Hanna wanted it, too. She wanted it so much she could barely bring herself to imagine it. She thought she might die if it were taken away from her now. She could picture it so vividly; the ring on her finger, the kisses before he left for work, his arrival home, scooping Matty up into his arms, walking over to her and kissing the hell out of her.
The babies.
She needed to calm down. She was getting ahead of herself. They needed to take this slowly—for Matty’s sake as well as theirs. Neither of them should run into the fire without preparing themselves for the burn.
“I’d like us to be yours.” It was an evening for truths. She wasn’t going to hide behind her insecurities any more. Life had taught her that road only led to trouble and misery.
Richard’s smile was brilliant, his eyes as watery as hers when she glanced up at him. He reached out to touch her hand, running his finger from her knuckles to her wrist. Her skin erupted into goose bumps, tiny hairs standing up on her flesh as she closed her eyes, feeling the intensity of their connection.
They finished their meal, taking the plates and cutlery to the kitchen, and loading up the dishwasher together. Every now and then Richard would take something from her, his hand lingering on hers, long enough to let her know exactly how he felt.
It was electrifying.
When the room was clear, Richard picked up their glasses and the half-empty wine bottle, carrying them over to the sofa. He put them down on the coffee table, patting the seat next to him. His eyes were dark and intense as he watched Hanna walk over, her expression betraying her trepidation.
“What are you thinking?” he murmured, twisting his body until he was facing her.
“I’m scared.” She was almost impressed by her own honesty.