Page 68 of Hannah.
Ugh. Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I will finally believe it.
Closing my eyes, I inhale and exhale slowly, sitting on my bed until the anxiety abates. There's no time for those thoughts now. Not when Johan is waiting on me.
Packing is harder than I thought it would be. Normally, it would take me no time to pack for a weekend, but this weekend is different. A weekend alone with Johan...the possibilities are endless.
Pulling out my duffel bag, I carefully pack my essentials for the weekend. I include a couple of warm sweaters and long-sleeve blouses, perfect for layering in the cool November air. A comfy yet chic dress and a stylish skirt make their way into the bag, along with my favorite pair of jeans and a pair of elegant trousers. I add cozy pajamas and, with a blush, switch out some of my everyday undergarments for matching lacy sets. Several pairs of underwear and a few bras also find their place in the duffel. A fashionable coat, scarf, gloves, and a hat are necessary for the cooler evenings. I finish packing with my favorite ankle boots, and a pair of elegant flats. Given today's forecast, I decide to keep my trusty rain boots on my feet, ensuring I stay dry and comfortable.
Finally, I have the bag packed and ready to go. Johan is supposed to pick me up in an hour, and I can already feel butterflies swarming in my stomach. Grabbing a small make-up bag, I stuff it into the duffel and zip up the entire thing.
Astrid still isn’t calling me back, so after a moment's hesitation, I send Conrad a quick text, asking if he’s seen her. After getting a negative response, I turn my phone off and drop it into my jacket pocket. Hopefully, once the weekend is over, I'llhear from her, and we'll continue business as usual. I'll have to tell her about me and Johan eventually, but not now.
At 3 pm sharp, there's a knock on my dorm door. My heart is in my throat. I open it, and Johan is standing there. He's smiling, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his hair pushed out of his face, and he looks devastatingly handsome.
He leans down to press a chaste kiss on my cheek, and the simple contact sends shivers down my spine. “Ready to go?”
I nod, my nerves tightening my throat. "Yeah, let's get out of here.”
As soon as we're in his car and on the road, our nervous energy dissipates, and conversation flows easily.
“How was your day?” Johan asks, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.
“Fine, but I think Astrid is avoiding me.” I shrug, leaning back into the seat. “It’s weird. I can't help but worry that she knows….”
Johan reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Don’t start worrying about her. You haven’t done anything wrong; that's all on my shoulders. So what if she figures things out? It won’t be the end of the world.”
“I know,” I sigh, shoulders falling. “She'll definitely be upset, though. At both of us, probably, and I care for her so much. Do you think that?—”
“Hannah, let's not talk about her or anyone else right now, okay? Please,” he insists, half smiling. “Let's make a deal—no talk of Astrid at all this weekend, okay? This is time for just you and me.”
He's right. Worrying about Astrid should take a backseat if this weekend is about him and me. Forcing myself to relax, I squeeze his hand back and let the motion of his car relax me.
“No talking about Astrid…got it. Now, what do you have planned for the weekend?”
“That is a surprise.” Johan’s grin is playful, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief that makes me both curious and slightly apprehensive.
I give him a suspicious look. “Seriously?”
His smile broadens, charming yet enigmatic. “Yes and no. I don't have any firm plans; I figured we'd see where fate takes us. But the house staff knows we're arriving and has everything prepared.”
Swallowing hard, I think about what he means by “fate”. Does he plan on showing me the quaint little town, or does he plan for us to stay in bed all weekend? The thought makes my mouth go dry.
The drive to Portmeirion is quiet and expectant, filled with an unspoken anticipation that hangs thick between us. Johan’s mood is light, yet there's an undercurrent of tension—a blend of excitement and nervousness—that seems to electrify the air. As the scenery changes, transitioning from urban sprawl to Wales’s lush, verdant landscapes, my thoughts oscillate between wonder at the unfolding beauty outside and trepidation about what awaits us. Johan's occasional glances, filled with mischief and secrecy, do nothing to quell the fluttering in my stomach.
As we approach our destination after a four-hour drive, the evening sky melds into a palette of deep oranges and purples, the last vestiges of daylight clinging to the horizon. Johan pulls up in front of a stunningly picturesque estate. Its cheerful yellow and white facade gleams under the sunset hour, exuding a warmth that beckons us.
“Johan,” I breathe, captivated by the charm of the place, “this place is absolutely gorgeous!”
He parks the car and kills the engine, turning to me with a cocky smirk. “Glad you approve.” His confidence is both reassuring and disarming.
We step out, and the cool evening air is a crisp contrast to the warmth of the car's interior. Walking into the cottage, a staff member greets us briefly before Johan dismisses her after a quick tour of the amenities.
“They'll serve us breakfast and then leave us to our own devices until Sunday,” he explains casually, his arm slipping around my waist as he guides me deeper into the cottage.
The interior is cozy, with creams and soft blue tones that create a serene atmosphere. Johan leads me through a tastefully decorated living room and past a quaint kitchen to our bedroom. The double doors are invitingly open, revealing a spacious room dominated by an enormous four-post bed draped with a soft, quilted white duvet. My heart skips a beat at the sight.
He casually tosses our suitcases inside, his actions nonchalant as if urging me not to dwell on the details just yet. When his gaze locks with mine, he asks, “You hungry?”
Finding my voice slightly shaky, I manage a nod. “Starving, actually.”