Hannah looks down at herself before her cheeks turn pink, the self-consciousness clear. “I… no, it’s the company.”

She laughs. “You look cute.” It slips out, but it’s entirely true.

“Oh.” Her cheeks get even deeper and Caroline kind of loves it, her smile widening. Hannah clears her throat, though, shifting back and forth on her feet. “Is there – did you come for any particular reason?”

Perhaps she is too excited to deliver the news. It doesn’t stop her from announcing, “After stalling for as long as possible, Michael has gotten back to me. So, we’re moving forward. Starting with subpoenaing his finances. Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Hannah blinks at her slowly, before a smile – a truly cheerful smile – slides across her face. And the difference between that and the other, fleeting ones that usually make an appearance is so staggering, Caroline feels it tingle in her stomach.

“This is the part that is going to take some time. I’m going to need to review all of his records,” and knowing Michael, he was going to find any way to be shady about it. “We’ll need to get through the financial business and then start into assets, and eventually, the custody agreements. But the ball is rolling.”

Hannah shakes her head, looking like she’s in disbelief, before she leans against the counter, questioning eyes looking up at her. “Not that I mind, but – you came all the way here to tell me in person?”

Caroline freezes, though, because… yeah, she guesses she did. She wanted to see that look on Hannah’s face. “Well, that and I realized I desperately need to try a –” She glances at the specials board again. “White chocolate… whatever that is.”

Hannah laughs, rolling her eyes. “Right.” She eyes Caroline, sobering, before her eyes flick behind her, into the crowded café. “I would ask you to stay for my break, but –”

“Caroline!”

She hasn’t heard the voice in over a year, but she’s familiar with it. And she feels herself smile as she turns just in time to face the child throwing her arms around her waist.

She rests a hand lightly on the back of the blonde head pressed against her stomach and gives her a squeeze around the shoulders for good measure. “Abbie!”

Hannah’s daughter – nine-years-old, small for her age, sharp as a tack, and cute as a button, with pale blonde hair pulled into a ponytail and a front tooth missing – grins up at her as she pulls back.

Hannah stares at them and it’s pretty clear she is dumbfounded.

Which makes sense. She’s made a point, several times, telling Caroline that as much as was possible, she didn’t want the divorce to touch Abbie. That she wanted to save any parts involving Abbie having to talk to lawyers for as long as possible.