Simon strode ahead then held the hotel’s door open for her. She mumbled a thank-you without meeting his eyes, then stepped into the warmth of the lobby. She scanned the grouping of cushy chairs next to a faux fireplace and a rack full of tourist brochures as Simon headed for the registration desk.
Hannah woke and began to fuss. Did she know her mother was gone? Would her crying get worse the longer Sammi didn’t make an appearance?
Keri shook her head. She couldn’t think about that now, couldn’t think about anything more than the next few minutes. By the time she dug Hannah’s bottle out of the diaper bag, Simon had them all checked into the hotel.
He nodded to his right, then headed down the corridor. “I got you a room at the end of the hall with mine next door,” he said.
What he didn’t say made her pause for a moment. Was he positioning himself as a shield between a potentially cranky baby and the rest of the guests on the floor? That seemed even more likely when she realized that there wasn’t a room across the hall from hers, just the doorway to the stairs leading to the upper floors.
Simon used one of the key cards to open her door and waited for her to enter the room before carrying in her bags. After he placed them in the corner, he turned toward her and extended the key.
“Would you like something to eat?” he asked.
“No. I’m not hungry.” That wasn’t exactly true. Her stomach had been grumbling like a bear for several hours, but she didn’t think food and the spinning in her middle could coexist for long.
Keri took the key card to her room, but Simon made no move to leave. When she looked up, she realized she hadn’t been this close to him in years. They crossed paths, of course. Hard not to in a town the size of Blue Falls. But they weren’t exactly dance partners at the music hall. She’d forgotten just how blue his eyes were, a striking blue-gray.
She swallowed against the memory from when they were fourteen and she’d finally acknowledged to herself that he was passably cute. Not that she’d ever in a million years admit that to anyone else, least of all Simon. She’d rather run through a cactus patch naked.
It’d been one of those sticky hot days. After a baseball game in which Simon and Carter’s team had trounced a team from Fredericksburg, they’d had a party at her house. Pizza, sodas and cold slices of watermelon. And a surreptitious game of spin the bottle. She’d just taken her turn and landed on Simon when her mother had figured out what they were doing and put a stop to it. His lips remained a mystery.
At the time she’d been secretly disappointed, though she’d feigned relief. Two years later, she’d counted herself lucky.
And yet she couldn’t deny his eyes were just as enticing now as they’d been across that empty bottle.
Simon broke eye contact first, snapping her back to the present. He shifted his gaze to where she’d placed Hannah and her carrier on the bed.
“If you need anything, just call or knock on my door,” he said.
“We’re fine.” She tried to sound stronger than she felt, but she just ended up sounding like a wasp set on stinging. Still, she kept going. “You don’t even have to stay. We’ll ride back with Sunshine after…” She swallowed hard. “After the funeral.” Keri strode toward the door and held it open for him. She had no room in her cluttered and bruised thoughts for memories of a stupid, juvenile crush. Had no idea why that particular memory had chosen this of all moments to float to the surface.
This time, Simon didn’t hesitate. He walked out the door without another word. She closed her door before he could even slip the key into his. As if on cue, Hannah began to cry.
* * *
THREE HOURS LATER, SIMON returned to the hotel with two barbecue dinners. He heard Hannah’s cries as soon as he turned into their corridor. Sounded like his plan of putting them at the end of the hallway wasn’t going quite as planned.
He had to knock twice before Keri came to the door, a red-faced and teary Hannah propped on her hip. Keri looked as if she was at the end of her rope. Without even asking for an invitation, he edged his way into the room and closed the door behind him.
After setting the bag of food on the little round table, he held out his arms. “Let me have her.”
“I’ve got her.”
“Keri.” He waited until she met his eyes, refusing to give in to her inherent stubbornness and determination to do everything on her own. “Let me give you a break.”
She hesitated a moment before shifting Hannah toward him. Even after he had a firm hold on the child, she didn’t let go.
“I won’t drop her,” he said gently. It felt odd to speak to her that way, so unlike their friendly teasing from years ago or the thinly veiled animosity of more recent years.
Finally, she let go and sank onto the edge of the bed.
“I can’t get her to calm down. What if she never stops crying?”
“She will.” Eventually, Hannah would get used to seeing Keri’s face instead of her mother’s. A profound sadness welled within him at the thought that someday, maybe not that far in the future, Hannah would forget her parents entirely.
He bounced Hannah softly in his arms as he watched Keri close her eyes and run her hands through her hair. The way the strands were sticking out, it wasn’t the first time her hair had gotten that treatment tonight.
When Keri opened her eyes again, he nodded toward the bag on the table. “You need to eat.”
“I just want to sleep. It feels like ages since I slept.”
“Food first. You haven’t eaten all day.”
She gave him an odd look, as though she couldn’t believe he’d noticed. That or she really hadn’t realized she’d had nothing but a couple of bottles of water since before he’d arrived at the bakery with the horrible news about the accident. Whatever she was thinking, she heaved herself off the bed and over to the table. She sank into one of the chairs and opened the box.
He turned his attention to Hannah and bopped her nose gently with his index finger. “Now there, little missy. Let’s see if we can figure out something to do besides crying.” He carried her over to where he’d tossed a second bag into the chair opposite Keri and pulled out a stuffed bunny he’d found at the Walmart next to the barbecue place. “Look at what I found,” he said in that goofy, higher pitched voice that adults seemed predisposed to use around babies. He wiggled it in front of Hannah, using one of its floppy ears to tickle her nose.
Hannah let out another cry, albeit a bit halfhearted, then a sniffle before it all was replaced with a smile as she grabbed the bunny.
“Where did that come from?” Keri asked before shoving a fry in her mouth.
“I’m guessing China.” He consulted the tag on the rabbit’s fuzzy behind. “Yep, China.”
He glanced over at Keri and saw an all-too-familiar annoyance on her face. This time, he didn’t mind it. Anything was better than the terrible blankness. They weren’t friends anymore, but that didn’t mean he wanted to
