Dirty Promises

Hannah

At ten fifty-two on Tuesday morning, Daniel set Hannah’s coffee beside the register without asking if she wanted one.

It had the right amount of cream. Of course it did. Five months separated and yethe still remembered exactly how she took it, but getting him to talk about anything important had always been harder.

Hannah looked from the cup to him. “This is mine.”

“Looks like it.” Daniel leaned under the bar to check the ice machine, which had started making a noise like loose change in a dryer. His voice came out muffled beneath the counter. “The woman at the counter remembered your order.”

“She remembers the person who hasn’t lived here for five months?”

“She remembers the coffee. Drink it before it gets cold.”

“So you did ask for it.” Hannah wrapped both hands around the warm cup. He straightened too fast, struck his shoulder on the underside of the counter, and swore. Her laugh escaped before she could choke it down. “You all right?”

“Wonderful.” He rubbed his shoulder and gave the machine a hard look. His dark hair had curled at the ends from the damp morning, and there was a fresh nick across one knuckle. There was always a fresh nick somewhere. “Chris texted. He’s five minutes out.”

The Lantern opened in eight. Linda and Adam were in the kitchen, Mike was hauling two cases of beer through the delivery door, and Rachel stood at the host station fighting the drawer Hannah had hated since the day they bought the place. The fryer was hot. The dining room smelled of lemon cleaner and old wood. Sunlight through the front windows showed every streak Rachel had missed and made the faded red booths look tired but clean.

It was ordinary enough that the sound upstairs didn’t make sense at first.

A hard bang shook the ceiling. Something rattled inside the wall behind the bar, followed by a hiss that grew too fast and too loud.

Daniel’s head came up. Hannah had barely put the coffee down before he was moving. She followed him through the office and up the narrow staff stairs, close enough to see his hand slide along the rail without taking hold.

Water shot through the opened seam beside the bathroom door in a white, furious stream. It struck the opposite wall, sprayed across the hall, and slipped beneath the baseboard toward the second bedroom.

“How attached are you to your winter clothes?” Daniel asked.

Hannah stared at him. “Are you serious right now?”

“No. Get the boxes off the floor.” He shoved a utility key into her palm, then grabbed it back before she could close her fingers. “Main valve’s downstairs. I’ll do it. Rachel! Mike! Upstairs, now.”

He took the steps two at a time. Hannah ran into the storage room, where half her life still sat in badly labeled boxes because she’d left with two suitcases and the promise that she’d sort the rest when she wasn’t so angry. The bottom row was already dark with water.

She dragged a box marked WINTER toward the bed. The wet cardboard sagged against her wrists. Rachel appeared in the doorway, stopped dead, and whispered, “Oh my God.”

“Don’t do that yet. Take the dry ones first.” Hannah got one knee under the box. “And if this breaks, everything in it belongs to Daniel.”

“He wear a lot of red lace?”

“Move, Rachel.”

Rachel’s startled laugh steadied both of them. Mike and Adam crowded into the hall behind her, and Hannah gave them jobs before anyone could ask whether she was sure. Dry boxes to the bedroom. Wet clothes into plastic tubs. Nothing down the interior stair until somebody checked the office ceiling. The water kept coming, cold around her shoes, while Daniel shouted something she couldn’t hear below.

Then the spray weakened. It coughed once, twice, and stopped. Water still leaked from the torn seam, but the worst of it had gone quiet.

Daniel came back with a wrench and blood running over his knuckle. “Main’s off. Plumber’s coming.”

“Office?”

“Dripping. Kitchen’s dry. Chris is checking the wall and the panel.”

Hannah pulled out her phone. “I’ll cancel lunch. If Linda’s side stays clear, maybe takeout tonight.”

“No.” Daniel pointed the wrench toward the water between them. “We’re closed today.”

Her thumb stopped above the screen. “You don’t know that yet.”

“The office ceiling’s wet, the stairs come through it, and the electrical panel’s on that wall. Nobody works under it.”

“Then say that. Don’t make the call and expect me to trail behind nodding.”

His jaw tightened. “I’m trying to keep the ceiling off everybody’s head. I wasn’t working on making it sound pretty.”

Water ticked from the torn seam into the hall. Rachel stood near the bed holding a box of Hannah’s shoes and looked between them. “I’m gonna take these downstairs.”

“Good idea,” Daniel said.

Hannah waited until Rachel left. “Don’t use her escape as proof you won.”

“Hannah, I don’t think anybody won.” He wiped the wrench on his jeans, leaving a dark streak. His shoulders dropped a little. “We need to clear the hall before the plumber gets here. Can we do that first? Please?”

Hannah looked at him for a second, then slid her phone into her back pocket and took the other end of a plastic tote.

Daniel took what was heavy. Hannah made room and remembered which boxes couldn’t be stacked. Mike and Adam carried loads down to the dining room. Rachel called reservations. Chris photographed the office ceiling while Linda checked every inch of the kitchen and yelled up that if anybody dripped on her prep table she’d kill them herself.

When the bar phone rang, Hannah took it from Rachel and put on the voice that had calmed angry customers, drunk groomsmen, and a health inspector with a personal grudge against cracked grout. “Hi, Mrs. Price. No, I’m sorry, we won’t be open for lunch. A pipe burst upstairs. Yes, a big one. No, Daniel didn’t do it himself. I don’t think.”

Daniel passed with a tote full of books pressed against his chest. “Tell her I used a hammer.”

Mrs. Price laughed loudly enough for Hannah to hear through the receiver. Hannah did too, and the sound came out easy. She ended the call before she could keep smiling at Daniel.

She faced the staff. “We’re closed today and tomorrow. Thursday dinner only if the inspector clears the office and the kitchen stays dry. Rachel, finish the reservation list. Mike, post the closure and turn off online ordering. Linda, anything stored against the office wall needs checking. Adam, help Chris with the files, and no, you’re not losing today’s pay. We’ll sort the rest of the week when we know more.”

Adam had been twisting his apron in both hands. He let go of it. “Okay. Thanks.”

Daniel stopped beside Hannah and rubbed the back of his neck. “Adjuster’s calling back.”

She’d been about to ask. Her thumb pressed into the edge of her phone case. “Good.”

Daniel nodded toward the front door. “Once your boxes are clear, go back to Megan’s. I’ll call when the plumber knows something.”

Hannah turned slowly. “You really can’t hear yourself, can you?”

“I can hear water hitting the office floor.” His voice stayed low, but a muscle jumped in his cheek. “There’s wet insulation upstairs. You don’t need to breathe it all afternoon.”

“It’s my restaurant too. You don’t get to send me away like I stopped in for a fundraiser.”

Chris picked up a stack of menus and carried them to the other side of the room, where he became intensely interested in counting them.

Daniel looked toward the office. Another drop struck the stockpot Mike had placed beneath it. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It never is.”

“And you always have the answer ready before I finish the damn sentence.”

The words came out sharper than either of them expected. Daniel shut his eyes for a beat, but he didn’t apologize. Hannah’s fingers tightened around her phone. She nearly told him he hadn’t finished a sentence about their marriage in a year, but the plumber came through the delivery door before she could.

By the time Daniel took him upstairs, chairs sat upside down on tables, file boxes covered two booths, and Linda had forced eggs and toast on everyone because she’d already cracked the eggs and wasn’t throwing out good food for a pipe. Hannah ate standing at the pass. Then she took two empty plastic totes upstairs to finish sorting what remained.

Daniel stood in the storage room pulling damp clothes from a split box. He held up her old college sweatshirt and winced. “This smelled bad before, didn’t it?”

“It smelled comfortable.” She took it and dropped it into the wash tote. “That pile goes in the machine.”

“Here?”

“No, Daniel, I’ll take wet clothes to Megan’s and make her couch smell like drywall.”

“I was asking.” He shoved a pair of jeans into the tote harder than necessary. “Christ.”

“You always sound like there’s a wrong answer.”

His hands stopped. “And you always act like I said the worst one.”

They stared at each other over the ruined box. Then Hannah bent for another shirt and shoved it into the tote. Neither of them apologized.

Her left flat slipped off when she stepped into the hall. She kicked it aside and planted her bare foot in the shallow water. Pain snapped through her heel.

“Damn it.”

Daniel crossed the hall before she finished the word. He crouched and held out one rough hand. “Lemme see.”

“It’s a cut. I’m fine.”

“You made a noise.”

“People make noises when tile goes into their foot.”

“Hannah.” His fingers closed around her ankle when she tried to turn it toward the light. “Hold still for two seconds. Can you do that?”

She braced a hand on his shoulder. The wet cotton shifted over muscle beneath her palm. Daniel’s thumb moved once below the cut. His head was bent, his lashes dark against his cheek, and Hannah stopped arguing.

“Shallow,” he said, rougher now. He looked at her floating shoe. “You’re not putting that back on.”

“I can get downstairs. Poorly, probably, but I’ll manage.”

He stood without releasing her ankle. “How?”

“If you’d let go, I’d show you.”

He didn’t. Daniel slid one arm behind her knees and the other around her back, then lifted her. Hannah caught the back of his neck with both hands, her face suddenly inches from his.

“Daniel, wait.”

“The stairs are wet. I know.” He adjusted her higher against his chest. “Put your arm around me properly before you make us both fall.”

Hannah locked her hands behind his neck. His palm spread against her back, and his breath warmed her temple. At the narrow landing, he turned sideways so her knee wouldn’t strike the rail. His hold tightened, and so did her grip.

“I’ve got you,” he said. He didn’t sound irritated. Hannah looked past his shoulder at the dripping office ceiling.

Chris saw them come through the office and looked straight up at the damaged ceiling with remarkable professional interest. Hannah pointed at him. “Not one word.”

“Was gonna ask if you needed the first-aid kit.”

“Behind the bar,” Daniel said.

“Since when?” Hannah asked as he carried her past the lockers.

“Since I found it behind the mop bucket where nobody could reach it.”

He set her on the bar and knelt between her knees. Hannah gripped the edge while he cleaned the cut. It stung enough to make her hiss, and his free hand closed around her calf. She remembered that hand on the same calf in bed and looked toward the dining room.

When he finished, he handed her a soft gray towel for her wet hair.

She rubbed it between her fingers. “You kept my towels.”

“You left without sorting anything.” Daniel closed the kit, but his hand stayed flat on the lid. “I didn’t know what you were coming back for.”

The plumber hammered upstairs, and Mike dragged a bucket across the floor. Hannah rubbed the edge of the towel between her fingers while Daniel’s hand stayed flat on the kit.

“Just the towels?” she asked.

Daniel’s eyes lifted to hers. “I didn’t say that.”

Neither of them had filed. The only time either of them said divorce was when they were angry. Hannah folded the towel across her lap and kept her eyes on the damp gray fabric.

The adjuster called before either of them had to go further. By one o’clock, the damage had borders: the upstairs hall, storage room, part of the primary bedroom ceiling, and the office below. The kitchen stayed dry. Tuesday and Wednesday were gone. A limited Thursday dinner might happen if the fans worked and the inspection cleared them.

Hannah texted Megan that she’d be late, then carried the gray towel upstairs. Daniel had cleared the hamper, books, and lamp from the damp side of the bedroom. The bed hadn’t moved yet. He was kneeling beside it with a flashlight, checking how far the water had reached beneath the frame.