Madison’s eyes lit up at the cupcake. “You do realize I have to fit into a wedding dress in, like, five months.”
“Don’t act like you don’t know the exact number of days.”
Madison swallowed a giant bite of cupcake. “Fine. I have to fit into a corseted wedding dress in one hundred and thirty-three days. This is not going to help.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “It’s one cupcake. We can go for a run, and it will be like you never ate it.”
Madison shook her head. “Not until after your appointment. Which is when?”
“On January 17.” Hannah could hardly believe it. It had been so much of the reason she’d even considered marrying Will, and soon, she was finally getting to see an orthopedist. And not any orthopedist but one of the city’s best. Even as a resident, Daniel’s name went a long way.
“Then on January 18, if you don’t need surgery, we will try a run.”
“No way!”
Madison grinned. “Yes way!”
“I’m bringing you cupcakes more often.”
“Please don’t,” she said, stuffing the last bite of the cupcake into her mouth. “Actually, I kind of have something for you too. A proposal of sorts.” When Hannah didn’t say anything, she continued. “Jon and I were talking, and well, we’d love for you to be a bridesmaid in the wedding.”
Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been that. True, she was Will’s wife, and she and Madison had quickly become friends, but Jon and Madison barely knew her. Not that it wasn’t nice to be asked. They must have accepted her as part of the family. If they didn’t, why risk having some random chick in all of their wedding pictures?
“But won’t that throw everything off?” Not to mention the short timeline—Madison had said the bridesmaid dresses were custom ordered.
Madison shook her head. “Not really. Jon has been itching to add another groomsman, but I only have so many friends.”
“You have more friends than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Not ones I would want in my wedding pictures for eternity.” She rolled her eyes. “But we’re going to be sisters, and I don’t want you not to be in the pictures for eternity.”
That was sweet and a bit comforting. Apparently, the act, which was no longer an act, was working. People believed in Will and Hannah. But still, the logistics of it worried her.
“Stop overthinking it,” Madison said, hitting Hannah’s foot lightly with her own. “I can already see your head spinning through all the to-dos to add two members to the wedding party this late in the planning. But Hannah, the rules don’t apply to us. They’ll make the dress. They will find the tie. They will accommodate us. We’re Thornes—or soon to be.”
Right. Thornes. For the foreseeable future, Hannah was going to be a bona fide Thorne.
“If you don’t feel comfortable being in the wedding, that’s totally cool too,” Madison said, examining her fingernails.
Hannah shook her head. “I’d love to. Let me check with Will, but I would be honored.”
Madison squealed, her hands clutched together in front of her chest, and just as suddenly, she turned a serious face back to Hannah. “Your first duty as my bridesmaid is to not bring me any more cupcakes—not even if I beg.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. What had she gotten herself into?
Chapter 32
Will
Will flipped through the report, not taking in anything on the page. Not that it mattered—he’d already memorized the key parts that would cost the company too much money. Redeveloping brownfields was a lofty and sustainable objective—it also royally sucked for everyone involved except the Public Relations team. It would be fine. He could handle a little groundwater contamination. Endangered species and preserved wetlands were harder to defend.
A knock on his door brought Will to attention. In the seconds it took him to walk across his office, he hoped it was Hannah. A hot office make-out session was exactly what he needed to brighten his mood. But Hannah was busy finishing her section layout at work. Will didn’t expect to see her home until the last caption was in place and every article had been read backward and aloud.
“Hey, Uncle Grayson,” Will said, finding his uncle on the other side of the door. Will assumed he was visiting as his uncle and not as the CEO.
“I thought we could have lunch together.” Grayson set a Susanna’s bag down on the small table in Will’s office, stacking some papers that were in the way—papers that Will’s junior associate had organized into separate piles the day before. At least he’d had the sense to tag them with colored stickers. “I asked the staff there for your regular. Hope that’s okay?”
“That’s great, thank you.”
“I can’t believe you have me eating this bird food when Aunt Maggie’s not around.” His uncle poked at his salad. “How’s Hannah?”
“Busy,” Will said with an easy smile. “She’s looking forward to dinner next week, though.”
“Good. I know Aunt Maggie’s looking forward to it too.” They ate in silence for a few minutes. Will enjoyed the companionable silence, but at the same time, he knew this wasn’t a social visit.
“Hannah’s a good girl,” Grayson said finally, “and the right people at that party noticed how she grounds you, how you are with her. I’m hearing only good things about you. I suspect that board seat will come along soon enough.”
Will swallowed the bite he’d been chewing. The pact had worked on everyone except the person he needed to convince the most. His father would never see him as anything more than his emotional, whimsical screwup of a son. “Jonathan will never—”
“You leave your old man to me.” His uncle put the cap on his barely eaten salad. “I can’t eat this crap. You want anything from Tony’s?”
Will shook his head, still a little shocked by the unexpected news. Things worked slowly at Wellington Thorne. “Soon enough” could mean in the next year, but it was better than never.
“Knock, knock.”
No. Not today. He squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe this was a nightmare. Madison could not be standing in his doorway.
Grayson turned, his eyes widening at Madison’s presence. Fuck. He stood and patted Will on the back. “Only good things, William. Don’t make me regret backing you.”
He walked past Madison with a cursory nod. At least Will knew someone would pick his side if it came down to it.
“What do you want?”
“Is that any way to greet your sister-in-law?” she said, shutting the door behind her.
Too many curse words ran through his head. “Door open. We don’t have closed-door conversations anymore.”
“So dramatic, William,” she said but pulled the door open.
“Again, what do you want?” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. He had to admit, he’d expected her sooner. Pretty much since the second Hannah had asked if she should accept the invite to be in the wedding, he’d been holding his breath. No. Hell no. Fuck no. Except he couldn’t exactly say any of that without also telling her about Madison. And again, he hadn’t done it. How could he when things were finally where he wanted them to be with Hannah? He knew keeping the secret would only make it worse when he did tell her, but telling her now could blow up everything they were building. It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. So he’d nodded and smiled at her request, his stomach threatening to reject the pound of Chinese food he’d eaten for dinner.
“In about ten minutes, Jon’s going to come in here and ask you to be the fourth for his poker night.” Madison sat in the seat across from him, crossing her legs. Visions of other midday visits and more revealing outfits flashed through his mind. “You are going to say yes.”
“Why would I do that?”
Madison smiled. “Did Hannah mention that we’re having a girls’ day after the holidays? We’re going to get her measurements done for her dress and then brunch with the whole bridal party. It would be a shame if someone let slip that you and me...
Women and mimosas are never good for secret keeping.”
How was this his life? Everyone had screwed him over and lived happily ever after, and he was the one being blackmailed.
“Why do you care if I spend time with Jon?”
Her face lost its hard edge at the comment. She looked up at him with soft eyes, the same ones he used to get lost in. “Because he cares, William. Would it really be so hard to spend time with him?”
“Yes, it really would.”
“You’re married! To someone you’ve loved forever. Do you think I don’t remember hearing about Hannah? Why does what happened even matter anymore? You won.”
Will liked the sound of that. He liked the feel of it even more. He’d won. Had he really? Maybe, if he didn’t mess up everything with Hannah. If that awfulness brought him here, would it have been worth the pain? He wanted to believe so. If it had been a normal betrayal—if it had been anyone other than his brother—things might’ve been different. But he wasn’t sure he would ever truly forgive Jon. And trust? Trust was out of the question.
SUN. BRIGHT. NO. UGH. Never again. Will threw his arm over his eyes, blocking the strips of light slipping through the blinds. Why didn’t his father invest in blackout curtains? He groaned and rolled over, burying his head under his pillow. Poker was officially blacklisted. He should’ve known better than to try and bluff his way through every hand against a bunch of financial experts. He flopped over again, sitting back against the headboard. There was a bottle of water on his bedside table. The bottle sat atop a napkin with Hannah’s handwriting scribbled across the front. He took a sip and picked up the note. Thought you might need this. There was even a smiley face. Well, that was cute. Where was she? Her sneakers were still by the closet, as was her yoga mat.
He closed his eyes, willing his headache away. The gurgle of the coffee maker and the banging of pans sounded from the kitchen. That was new—they rarely cooked. Maybe they needed to try one of those preordered services. Cooking together could be messy and romantic. Hannah would be highly impressed by his superior chopping skills. He could be her sous-chef. His mind concocted an image of Hannah bossing him around their kitchen in a sexy chef outfit. He hadn’t consciously known chefs could be sexy, but his subconscious knew. Oh, did it ever. He felt himself grow hard. Where was that year-round Halloween store? He would find it, and he would have that costume. He groaned and banged his head against the headboard.
“You okay over there?” Hannah leaned against the doorjamb, an apron tied around her waist. It only covered her bottom half, and spots of flour dotted her shirt.
“Why are you only wearing half of the apron?”
“Have you ever worn an apron?” she asked, tugging at the thin fabric.
“Yes,” he said, remembering that weird period between college and Madison, otherwise known as law school.
“Well then you know they can be incredibly uncomfortable, particularly when they have all this lacey frill around the edges.”
“True, and I was usually naked underneath.”
A blush crept up her cheeks. She tried to throw words together, but nothing coherent came out. He loved that he had that effect on her.
“I don’t even want to know,” she said, shaking her head. “Breakfast is ready.”
There was no way he could stand up right now. If the thought of him naked in an apron made her blush, the truth of the situation might make her swoon. “Awesome, let me just, uh, wash up.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you do that.”
That woman was going to be the death of him. He smiled at the ceiling. At least he had a date planned for today, and it was going to be epic. And she’d cooked him breakfast. He looked at the smiley face on the note again and sent up a silent prayer that he hadn’t done anything too embarrassing last night. He’d been pretty wasted. The driver had handed him back his tip when he’d blithely slipped him a hundred dollars. Will would pay it forward in Rob’s Christmas bonus.
“The bacon is getting cold!”
He pulled the sheets back with a laugh—always so impatient. She was lucky she was cute. After a quick stop in the bathroom, he slid into the chair across from Hannah. A coffee and a heaping stack of waffles awaited him.
“We have a waffle maker?”
“Someone sent it after the party—Martha? Margaret?” She motioned to the pile of gifts they had yet to open.
Apparently, a city hall wedding without a registry didn’t stop people from buying them appliances. He’d expected more letters about donations in their name from his father’s ilk, but that had not been the case.
“Supposedly you can make brownies and other delicious treats in this contraption and, oddly, crab cakes,” she said, spearing a strawberry from the fruit salad. This apartment had never seen so much fresh fruit since Hannah arrived.
“Crab waffles?”
“So says the box.”
He nodded approvingly. “Wow, this Martha or Margaret person went all out.”
She took a sip of her coffee. “Yup. Now we have to write out thank-you cards. The first one is going to your dad—thanks for the weeks of hand cramps, Dad.”
He forked two waffles onto his plate. “Leave it to my dad to find your weakness.”
“Hey, hand cramps are no joke.” She pointed at him with her fork, a piece of waffle dangling from the tines. “These babies are my livelihood.”
“Well, the thank-you cards will have to wait another day because we have plans this morning.”
She looked at him quizzically. Saturdays were usually their lazy mornings. On Sundays, they walked the farmers’ market and did odds and ends for the week, but most Saturdays, Hannah binged the television shows of their youth in her pajamas, Will right by her side, cringing at the melodrama.
“Sweet,” she said after a moment, a smile warming her features. “I’m officially off until after Christmas. This never happens—I might have to hug your father for insisting we come for the holidays.”
“After you torture him for all the thank-you notes you have to write?”
She stuck out her tongue. “Yes, after that. So, what are we doing? Going to see the tree? Surprise tickets to the Christmas Spectacular? The market at Bryant Park?”
“Wow, someone has the Christmas spirit this morning.”
Hannah shrugged, another blush rushing up to her cheeks. “I love Christmas.”
“I am well aware,” he said, glancing toward the oversized, overly decorated tree sitting in their living room. Fortunately, there had been a tree seller right down the street, but he’d still had to lug bags of lights and ornaments across far too many city blocks. So far, Binx had only jumped on the tree once.
An image of a sad little plastic tree tucked into the corner of Hannah and Kate’s college apartment resurfaced. Hannah had wanted a real one, though they weren’t going to be in town for Christmas or even New Year’s. But Kate had put her foot down. In defiance, the little plastic tree had remained long after the holidays. He used to hang his socks on it for fun.
“Do you still have that little plastic tree from college?”
Hannah grinned. “It’s at Kate’s. The real one looks so much better, doesn’t it?”
Will had to admit that it did. He hadn’t put up a Christmas tree in years. But seeing the light in Hannah’s eyes as she looked at that tree—he would put one up for the rest of his life if that light stayed. He would trek upstate to cut one down, kids trailing after him, fighting over who got to use the saw first. Kids. Whoa. His future materialized in front of him. He’d rarely thought about having kids with Madison, but with Hannah, the thought had come naturally.
“What are these mysterious plans?” she asked.
He grinned and held up one finger before making his way over to the hall closet. The clue—two overflowing bags of laundry—had been waiting for this moment for three days. Thankfully, Hannah was so used to laundry service that she hadn’t even blinked at the empty hamper.
“We are going to
the laundromat,” he said, holding one of the bags up.
NO ONE IN THE HISTORY of laundromats had been as excited as Hannah was since he pulled out the heaping bags of laundry. Will was barely showered and dressed before she dragged him outside. The two bags were tucked into one of those carts old ladies used to tote around their groceries. Clara kept it in the hall closet, though he’d never actually seen her use it. But Hannah hummed the whole three blocks, a spring in her step as she pushed that cart. She added a bottle of Tide and a bag of snacks from Duane Reade to the top of the pile.
At the laundromat, she showed him the proper way to add the detergent. Teacher Hannah was adorable, particularly because she knew he knew how to do laundry. They’d done more than their fair share of loads together in college—until, of course, he’d found himself crashing on their floor and was able to sneak his clothes into Hannah’s dirty clothes. The one time he’d tried that with Kate, it hadn’t ended well.
Will glanced around the laundromat. There was a weathered waiting area with some battered toys and plastic chairs that had to be older than the two of them combined. What were they supposed to do? He hadn’t really thought it through. This was his date, and he was failing miserably.
Without hesitation, Hannah plopped down in one of the ancient chairs. She crossed her legs and looked at him expectantly. He sat next to her, keeping his hands in his lap and away from any solid surface.
“You do realize this is, like, the cleanest laundromat I’ve ever seen, right?” She laughed. “I mean, it’s older but clean.”
Will’s shoulders relaxed. “In my mind, this was a much better idea than it is turning out to be.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, placing her hand on his knee. “I thought it was really sweet that you remembered that we were supposed to do laundry together and took the initiative to plan it. This is real couple stuff, you know?”
“I guess I imagined a brighter, cleaner place with a coffee shop or something.” Even as he said it, the reality of how unrealistic that was set in. “Yeah, yeah. I watch too much television.”
When We're Thirty Page 18