Page 3 of Better Than Expected
That conversation hadn’t gone over well the last time, though.
He tilted his head in consideration, before giving a curt nod. “Well, as long as it doesn’t detract from the time you’re going to spend getting ready.” Michael flashed the charming smile she’d fallen for. It was less charming, now, but she still could see what she’d fallen for a few years ago; it was just like a perfect toothpaste commercial kind of smile. “Gotta show everyone how I married up.”
Hannah managed another small, tight grin at him as he kissed her cheek, drawing in a deep breath before she turned around and reached up to straighten his collar. “Don’t worry. I’ll be ready on time; have I ever not been?”
Michael was in a notably better mood now as he stepped back. “Perfect.” He checked his watch. “I better be going. I’ll see you tonight.”
He turned to stride right back out of the room, without another look, which –
“Aren’t you going to say good morning to Abbie before you go?” There was steel in her tone now, but this was the tone she couldn’t control. Not when it came to Abbie.
She didn’t miss the way his shoulders tensed in that way he got when he was annoyed, but he did turn and redirect to give a brief greeting to their daughter, who excitedly grinned at him with the attention.
No fairytale, but it was okay. And Abbie, well, she was much better than okay.
***
As promised, Hannah arrived at the Christmas party, cookies in tow, not only on-time, but early. Being prompt was always important to her.
She’d slipped on the designer dress she’d bought and had been on Michael’s arm right at the beginning of the event, circling the room with him. Hannah thought she was getting pretty good at making those rounds, if she did say so herself.
Sometimes she struggled with… words. With saying the right thing to the right people, feeling put on the spot. That had always made her feel tongue-tied, even more so after getting married to Michael – it was in the way he was so quick with his words, so easily running circles around her with any hint of dissatisfaction in her tone, as if he was arguing the most intense legal case in a courtroom, that made her feel jumbled, made her feel… silly, and stupid.
But the trick at these events, she’d learned, was to remind herself that none of this was really her. When she reminded herself that this was all a role she was playing – of a perfect housewife, who lived a false fairytale – the words came easier, then.
The worst part of these events, she’d come to know, wasn’t even having to put on the show for Michael’s bosses and the higher-ups.
It was, honestly, when Michael was done with her.
He referred to it as mingling – but the kind he had to do alone. Sometimes he disappeared, even, from the party. He often reported going to the bosses’ offices and having a drink or a cigar with some of the other men. And even if that was true, it didn’t help that Hannah felt like old leftovers for most of the night, after she’d been taken around the room and shown off. Like she was cast-off. Discarded.
Like she was nothing. Nothing more than quite literally the pretty face Michael enjoyed showing off.
She’d attempted, for the first year and a half of these parties and events, to do her own mingling, as Michael often encouraged, with the other wives. But, of course, there were rules to that, too.
Not every wife was someone she was supposed to mingle with. Only women married to men that Michael wanted to socialize with. Otherwise, her bonding could lead to him having to spend time with someone he didn’t want to “waste time” with.
And as much as Hannah didn’t want to be… well, this kind of woman, generally, the wives that Michael wanted her to socialize with – they weren’t exactly the company she wanted to keep. First and foremost, because Hannah was not from their world, and they knew it. But how many times could she talk about fashion, when she thought spending thousands of dollars on a single dress was utterly ludicrous and such a waste?
She’d learned very quickly to keep that thought to herself.
It was about that time of night, though. The time where Hannah was left to her own devices, smiling when people made eye contact, while Michael disappeared. She leaned into the corner of the room she’d claimed as her own, sipping lightly on the champagne Michael had absently handed her a while ago. She didn’t need to be told, though, not to have more than one glass. She knew Michael’s rules of work functions.
She wondered how Abbie was doing with her grandparents for the night and contemplated calling, even though she knew the look she would get when Michael found out.
Still, she stepped forward, intending to take a breather and make the call when she saw the woman at the refreshment table that was home to Hannah’s cookies.
She’d been pretty displeased with the way Michael had essentially tossed them aside without even a look at the caterers. And many of the women he wanted her to socialize with weren’t going to eat those cookies, anyway, it was true.
This woman was, though. She was eating one, with two others on a little plate. And unlike a lot of the other women here, she wasn’t in a dress; she was wearing an impeccably tailored red suit.
It fit her perfectly, highlighting shapely hips and a chest much more generous than Hannah’s own.
It was her face that caught Hannah’s attention, though. Sometimes, Hannah got hit with the itch to draw – usually, admittedly, it was an urge to draw architecture. If she was outside in nature and saw something gripping, she itched to draw that, too. She rarely wanted to draw people.
But this woman’s face was absolutely striking.
She was very pretty, yes, but it was the sharp lines of her face that made Hannah feel like it would be perfect to draw. Sharp cheekbones, a small, sloped nose, perfectly arched eyebrows. The symmetry of her was… enthralling.