The Unwanted Wife's Return (Ex-Husband Wants Me Back) novel Chapter 233

Turning Around 

HANNAH’S POV: 

“That is the part I was waiting for you to get to,” he said, and the corners of his mouth moved in a smile. “I will have Kojo arrange the technical side. You will not be alone in that room even if it looks like you are.” 

“Good,” I said. 

“And I want to see the message before you send it.” 

“Elijah.” 

“Hannah.” 

We looked at each other. 

“Fine,” I said. “You can see the message.” 

He nodded. Then he said, “For the record, I think you are extraordinary.” 

“I know,” I said. “Now let me write the message.” 

I drafted it three times and I showed it to Elijah. He read it twice without saying anything. Then he said, “This is good. This is very good actually.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You are a little bit frightening sometimes,” he said, with what I now recognized as genuine admiration in his voice. 

“That is a very loving thing to say to your wife,” I told him, and sent the message. 

Rowan replied in forty minutes. He said he would love to catch up. He suggested a hotel bar in the city centre. 

I picked up the sketchbook from the table and went back to work because I had still have few days left and sitting still was not going to finish the collection. 

In the four days between sending the message and Thursday I told Lucas everything, sent three sketches to Sandra for review and received back her notes. 

I also had a conversation with Amelia about her drama club performance. 

The performance was on Thursday evening, which I had known about for two weeks and which I had put on the calendar in my phone with three separate reminders because Amelia had mentioned it approximately forty-seven times since the casting had been announced. She was playing the lead. I say that simply but the way she said it herself was never simply, she said it with the full weight of what she felt it deserved which was something close to the announcement of a major appointment. She had been rehearsing at home in a way that meant the rest of the household had also been rehearsing whether we wanted to or not. 

She had asked me three times if I was coming, which was actually the condensed version because if you counted all the variations of the question it was significantly more than three times. Are you coming, Mummy. Will you be there on time. Is Daddy coming too. What if you have to work. What if there is an emergency. The last question I had answered by saying that Amelia’s performance counted as an emergency in my book and she had nodded gravely as if accepting a formal guarantee. 

The first time I said yes absolutely, I would not miss it. 

The second time she said but you said that about the recital last year and you came but you came late and sat at the back and I saw you come in.