When You Least Expect It

by Haley Cass

Buying forgiveness: one of the perks of being the cool, single aunt.

“I’m sorry. I’m nervous. I haven’t really, you know, done this before. Obviously.” Caroline’s eyebrows fly up on her forehead, her heart tripping in her chest. Is it a date?

This is why she does what she does. *** Michael’s face – the vein that pops out of his forehead, in particular – is well worth it, though.

She asks questions because she has to, to know all of the details. But there’s also a very real want to know the answer, too.

She has everything in balance. It’s perfectly fine. *** Caroline realizes she’s a little bit of a liar the following week.

Her attraction to Hannah isn’t new, she tells herself, forcefully. Hannah has always been the most physically beautiful woman she’s ever met. It’s just now… she sees Hannah.

“And you decided to do it, anyway. You knew it wasn’t what I wanted and yet, you went ahead without even talking to me about it.” She rolls her lips, pursing them, her voice tight. “I’m going through this divorce because I’ve put up with that for ten years, do you understand that?

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. How often do I have to tell you?”

“I told you: I don’t do things I don’t want to do. I want to be with you, Hannah.” More than she should, really. More than is good for her. More than is wise or safe for her heart.

And fall away as Hannah’s hand slides down to intertwine their fingers together. It’s a perfect fit, always, and she looks down just to see Hannah’s small but capable hand wrapped up in hers, holding it tightly. “It’s kind of rude to ask someone to call when they’re on a date.

She didn’t mean to fall in love with Hannah at all. But here she is, curled up with a family that isn’t quite hers, and she’s never wanted anything more. So. Fucked.

She’s never in her wildest dreams imagined getting a card for Father’s Day, but she does from Abbie the following day, and she puts it up proudly on her fridge.

Instead of correcting her, Hannah just smiles back. “They are.”

“My girls,” Hannah repeats with a smile, shaking her head at them. “Did my girls come up with a cannoli consensus?”

Then again, maybe she should have expected that. Because in what world did Hannah fall into worst case scenario?

“For the record, I’m wearing the Suffolk law shirt you forgot here once. And my underwear. Goodnight.”

even as her eyes remain closed, head tipped back. Caroline can’t get over the way the snowflakes have landed in her hair, on her eyelashes, making her look almost ethereally beautiful.

And, well, she likes having these pieces of Abbie and Hannah in her home; she’s not naïve enough to believe that isn’t a huge part of this.

Fuck the holidays. They really are out to get her.

It’s dated, no words next to it, for early February. “It is,” Hannah sounds sheepish, before she rolls her lips and nods at the other images. “They all are.”

I drew you… like I would draw a queen. Like I’m in love with you.”