Page 90 of Hannah.

Well, hell.

Dad seemed disappointed I wouldn’t end up with Astrid in the end, but he also seemed accepting of the idea that Hannah and I might end up together. He didn't elaborate, but from his tone and the vague, ominous nature of the emergency conversation we have to have, something tells me that his feelings have changed. But how could my relationship issues possibly lead to something serious enough for me to need to come home right away?

Christ, and he even called my department head for me! If I wasn’t so worried about our upcoming talk, I’d be angry.

With a groan, I roll out of bed and head to the bathroom. A quick glance in the mirror tells me I look like hell. Dark circles and heavy stubble under tired, bloodshot eyes greet me, and I grimace before splashing water on my face. It’s cold and wakes me up, and after a long, hot shower, I feel almost human.

My phone buzzes while I’m getting dressed, and when I check it, my stomach plummets.

Astrid:At what time shall we meet?

Of course she’d try and schedule it right as my father called me home.

Johan:Can we meet this afternoon? I have to head home for some family issue.

Astrid:Family issue? Are your parents okay?

With our families having grown so close, our lives are deeply intertwined, and to be honest, I appreciate her concern.

Johan:Everyone is physically fine. But yeah, Dad called and asked me to come home. I'll be back in Cambridge soon.

Astrid:That’s odd. Let me know if you need anything.

Johan:I will. Thanks.

I sigh and toss the phone down on my bed. It’s just another layer to an already complicated mess.

Breakfast with Dad. Then, a talk with Astrid. Then a talk with Hannah.

Hannah was supposed to meet me in my office ten minutes before I start class, and knowing I won’t be able to make it I write her a quick message apologizing and letting her know I need to go and meet my dad. Hopefully she won’t get too worried.

When I arrive, the familiar sight of our stone estate house soothes me. This is home, and although I don't live here anymore, it always will be. The smell of breakfast greets me as soon as I walk through the door, and the scent makes my mouth water.

Dad must have heard me pull up because he comes around the corner from the breakfast nook before I’ve even made it through the entryway, and we stare at each other for a moment. He looks older than he did the last time I saw him, a frown etched deep in his lined face. I wonder how stressed he’s been since learning of my little weekend away with Hannah…and why. He puts on what I know is a fake smile when he sees me, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Good morning, son. Thanks for coming so quickly. I’ve sent your mother away to run some errands, and we’ve got breakfast out on the back patio ready. Hungry?”

“Sure.” My voice doesn't sound like my own—it’s strained and nervous.

Dad, on the other hand, seems completely in control. Cool. Collected. Unnerving, really. It’s like he’s been building himself up to do something he dreads and, at this point, has just accepted it.

We fill our plates, and without even asking, Dad pours coffee for the both of us. The table is already set, and the sunshine warms the courtyard as we settle into the meal. We chat briefly, avoiding the topic of Hannah. My father doesn't push, and it’s killing me. When we’ve finished, and the staff has cleared the dishes, I’m a ball of nerves.

“Dad, what's this all about? Can we get on with it?”

He nods. “Of course. Let’s walk through the garden while we talk. Your mother is so proud of it, after all. Follow me.”

We head down the flagstone path, past the roses and tulips, past the neatly trimmed hedges and the pristine lawn, until finally, Dad stops at the large fountain in the center of the garden. A cherub holds a vase that spouts water into the pond below, and the steady stream of water is the only sound.

“Beautiful day,” Dad remarks, looking up at the bright sky.

“Dad.”

He glances at me, and there's a flash of…something. Regret? Hesitation? I can't place the look, but whatever it is, it makes my stomach churn.

“So, Johan. Hannah.”

Here we go. “Yes?”