“Hey,” Will said as soon as she walked in the door. He stood up in greeting. “Are you feeling better?”
She slid into his arms, coat and all. “I am.”
“Good.” He led her into the kitchen, taking her coat and hat as she shucked off her layers.
She could feel the tingle in her cheeks as the warmth of the apartment came into contact with her cold skin. She shivered.
“Here.” Will thrust a mug of coffee toward her. She noted the logo of Madison’s alma mater on it before taking a sip. “Oh, Clara brought your mail when she was here last week.”
Hannah nodded and shuffled through the small stack. Clara had taken time to sort out Jonathan’s mail and the daily mailers that flooded their mailbox each week. The menial task and the coffee would help calm Hannah further, and then she would tell him about the donation.
She stopped on a letter addressed to her. Her stomach turned over as she read the return address. Mail from her landlord was never good and usually resulted in her rent being increased by some exorbitant percentage.
Hannah scanned the letter—ten-day notice, lease violation, unauthorized subtenant, termination of tenancy. This was not happening. She flipped the envelope over to find the postmark dated two weeks ago. Had she been evicted? If so, where was her stuff? She crumpled the letter in her hand.
“Will,” she called, even though he was sitting across from her at the table. Panic rose in her voice. “Does this mean what I think it means?”
Will took the wrinkled letter from her and scanned it. His expression darkened as he read. “Dammit.”
“What happened?”
He held out a halting hand. “Your landlord found out about the sublet somehow. Maybe something broke, or there was a complaint. Did your landlord call you at all?”
Hannah thought of her neighbors. She couldn’t imagine them complaining unless the person had been awfully loud. The older couple next door did not like loud neighbors. “No, but my landlord is always in the building, and the super lives there. And we have a doorman.”
“Right—someone probably told your landlord that you haven’t been around for a few months.” He stopped. “Subletting isn’t allowed in all leases, but as long as there are no major issues and the rent gets paid, people tend to look the other way.”
She followed his train of thought with a sinking feeling. “We violated the lease?”
He picked up the envelope and cursed under his breath. “Technically, yes, but it should’ve been no different than if you’d let a friend crash for a few months. Everything was still in your name. You still paid all the bills.”
Panic bubbled in her chest. “Can we fight it? Or pay a fine or something?”
Will pulled a face. “Possibly. It depends on how badly your landlord wants you out of the building. Is it really worth it?”
Something in Hannah cracked. All that anger and resentment and fear she had yet to sort through from the past few weeks mixed with Madison and Jonathan and Will’s god-awful apartment. She had trusted him when he said it would be fine. Kate had backed him up. They both told her nothing would go wrong. But something had gone wrong.
As if sensing her panic, Will reached out and stroked her arm. “Hannah, it’s fine. I’ll call the landlord. We’ll get it figured out.”
Hannah jerked away. “I needed that apartment. I can barely afford the prices in Queens, and now no one good will want to rent to me. We can’t all quit our jobs and not have to worry about keeping a roof over our heads. Our home is gone, this apartment is tainted, and now my apartment, which I worked so hard for, is being ripped away from me.” She slammed her hands down on the coffee table. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a decent pet-friendly apartment in this city? One that a journalist can afford? If this”—she motioned between the two of them—“doesn’t work out, I’ll have nowhere to go.”
“You mean when.”
Hannah froze. All the energy drained out of her. Those words and thoughts and fears hadn’t been for Will’s ears. They weren’t for anyone but Hannah to pine over in the middle of the night alone in Boston.
She met his gaze. “What?”
“You meant when this doesn’t work out, right?” He took a step back. “You need your apartment. Why? Because you can’t get past the Madison thing? Or because you never thought we’d make it a year?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It is exactly what you said.”
“It’s not what I meant. That’s not how I feel.”
He held his hands up, stopping her advances. “I think that is how you feel.”
“Will, don’t.” She wanted to put as much energy into her denial as she’d put into the vitriol she’d spouted at him, but she felt helpless. The last weeks had taken everything from her. And now they were taking Will. She couldn’t stop it. She’d said those things, and a part of her—no matter how small—had meant them.
He picked up his phone and keys from the table. “I’ve got to go.”
She grabbed his arm. “Please. I didn’t mean it. It’s just—”
“No,” Will said, his expression completely closed off. “Whatever you’re about to say, whatever excuse you’re trying to make, I don’t want to hear it. Not right now.”
She released his arm and wrapped herself in a hug. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll be at Daniel’s.”
“Please don’t do this.”
He reached for her but then seemingly thought better of it. “Be safe in Boston.”
The door closed behind him. Hannah stood there for a long while, watching that closed door. It should’ve opened again. That was how these things worked. The guy always turned around and came back or was waiting on the other side of the door. But this was real life, and Will was gone.
Chapter 48
Hannah
Will was gone. Hannah had climbed into his bed two hours ago and hadn’t moved since. She swallowed a sob as a fresh waterfall of tears wet her pillow. Their fight ran through her mind on repeat. It wasn’t just that she’d voiced doubts—of course, she’d had doubts—but she’d been cruel. They’d bound their lives without thoughts of the consequences or how they fit together. But they’d risen above it, and for a few blissful weeks, it was perfect. The last two weeks in Boston had illuminated how reckless they’d been. Coming back to New York had reinforced that idea, but it also showed Hannah that she was in this relationship for better or worse. If she walked away, she would do so with regrets. She never wanted to regret Will Thorne.
Hannah pulled her phone back out. She knew better than to call Will, though she itched to do so. It had taken him being admitted to the ER for her to answer his calls—she could give him one night. They’d still be married in the morning. There was, however, one thing she did have to do—call Riley. Maybe she’d gotten the assignment as a stipulation of Jonathan’s money. Maybe not. Either way, the Nulty interview had to be perfect—to prove them right or to prove them wrong.
Riley answered on the second ring. “Good timing. Danny’s got Cee in the bath, and Jo is in a milk coma.”
“Which means I have like three minutes before someone is screaming?”
“Ninety seconds, if we’re lucky.”
Hannah paused, bolstering her confidence. “Were you going to tell me that my father-in-law was the backer for Boston?”
“What? How... oh my god, I’m such an ass. It was in the chain, wasn’t it?” Riley’s voice took on a weepy edge.
Crap. Hannah hadn’t prepared for the baby blues. “Is that why you picked me?”
“No. Oh, Hannah, no.” Riley’s voice cracked. There was no doubt about the tears coming. Her boss might even be full-on crying. “How can you even...? No. You were my first thought when I heard about it, and that never wavered. I told Nate it was yours if you wanted it. He didn’t even tell me who the backer was at first—probably for that exact reason.”
Hannah breathed easy for the first time in hours. It had been
about her. But there was still the matter of how it looked. “People are going to talk.”
“Fuck ’em,” Riley said, her voice suddenly firm.
“Riles.”
“I’m serious. You didn’t ask your father-in-law to support our magazine. And anyone who questions your right to run the Boston edition can have a little chat with me. The New York office wouldn’t be where it is today without you. You are the only one who knows how to start a magazine, because you did it with me five years ago. Even though your beat is Long Island, you have the most covers of anyone on staff. That isn’t happenstance, and it isn’t favoritism.”
Okay, she was going to cry too. Dammit.
Riley sniffled. “You are the only one I trusted with this assignment.”
Hannah wiped at the tears brimming her eyes. Riley had always been her champion, but she’d never had to champion for her before. “Thank you for believing in me.”
“Always.” There was a weighted pause between them. Not uncomfortable, but Hannah could feel a question burning in Riley. “Do you know why he invested?”
Hannah wasn’t one for airing dirty laundry, but this was Riley. Did it matter that the investment had been an underhanded attempt to destroy Hannah’s marriage? Jonathan had taken a calculated risk. He’d had no guarantee that Hannah would be the one sent to run the Boston edition, and he wouldn’t have guessed that Hannah almost turned it down, because he still thought she and Will were acting. He was wrong, but his risk had paid off anyway. The truth wouldn’t hurt Jonathan; it would only hurt Will.
“No,” she said finally. “I have no idea why he decided to invest.”
Chapter 49
Will
Will stared at the two messages in his inbox from Hannah. They had arrived the morning after their fight. Two days later, he still hadn’t opened them. The emails could be about anything. Maybe it was her explanation and apology. Maybe it was her admitting that she wanted out. Either way, he wasn’t ready. Everything about that afternoon still hurt. He’d gone to his apartment only to check that Hannah was officially back in Boston, and then he’d returned to Daniel’s love seat to await the call from his real estate agent.
Will closed his laptop and picked up the business card sitting on the table. Someone at Wellington Thorne, probably Grayson, had boxed up everything in his office and sent it to Daniel’s place. After years at the company, he had a single box of belongings to show for it. The contrast spoke volumes. Will pulled out his wedding photo. He needed to read Hannah’s emails, and then he needed to talk to his wife. Her silence after the Madison debacle had been thunderous. It had broken him in ways he was still processing. He didn’t want to do the same to her.
He pulled a card out of his Rolodex, surprised that it had made its way from his office and hadn’t be confiscated as company property. It was another sign that Grayson had sent the stuff over. Jonathan would have included a seething message about how his son was a complete and utter letdown, and Jon would’ve burned everything in effigy.
Will tapped the card against his leg, working up the courage to pick up his phone. Brady Douglas had been trying to get Will to leave Wellington Thorne for years. His firm recruited the best, and Will was nothing if not the best.
He dialed the number, his hands shaking. Maybe it had all been friendly banter from a competitor, something to ease the silence between opposing counsels. Will hit the call button and prayed for the best.
Twenty minutes later, after scheduling a lunch date with Brady Douglas and another with his top competitor, Will reopened his laptop. Hannah’s emails greeted him, bombs waiting to be detonated. It had been Will’s words, his insistence, that led them here. He could’ve heard her out. But her words that afternoon had spread through him like venom, poisoning the faith he’d had in their reconciliation. He clicked, starting the countdown to destruction. His vision blurred—it couldn’t be a goodbye.
I wrote this email, deleted it, wrote it again, and deleted it again. There’s so much I could say, so many explanations—excuses—I could give. But I won’t. You were right to walk away. You—we—deserved better than that cruel tirade. I’m more sorry than I know how to express. I do want to make this work.
If you believe nothing else, believe that I love you.
Will leaned back against the couch, a small smile loosening the tightness in his jaw. If you believe anything I said, believe that nothing is going on with Madison. She’d called back to his own sentiments from when he’d been at fault—when she’d had to take him at his word. Hannah was asking him to do the same. Except he didn’t doubt that she loved him. He doubted whether she loved him outside the confines of the pact. Those were fears he’d created himself the moment he initiated the pact instead of simply asking her out on a date. They were fears he hadn’t anticipated—there was so much he hadn’t anticipated. Her loving him at all had been wholly unexpected. There was only one fix, but putting it into motion risked the fragile equilibrium of their relationship. It was the only way to save their friendship.
He clicked on the second email, curiosity getting the better of him. What could Hannah possibly have had to add to that first email?
Jonathan funded the Boston project. I know things are a mess, and we have so much else to talk about, but I had to tell you. I didn’t think... I was afraid you wouldn’t answer, or you would, and we’d get sidetracked on other things. Important things, but not this. I don’t know what to do with this information or if it even matters anymore. You left Wellington Thorne, and Riley assures me my assignment had nothing to do with the name of the backer. Do with this information whatever you must, or do nothing. I just thought you needed to know.
Will closed the email. Fucking Jonathan. The man never stopped. Will had thought, for the briefest of time, that the party and Christmas had assuaged his father. But no. Their unfailing love merely caused him to find a new way to get her out of the picture. It had been his father’s last attempt after she’d refused to walk away. Whatever he invested in Deafening Silence was certainly less than Hannah would get in a divorce without a prenuptial agreement, and if she had been the one to leave Will, there’d be no money going her way. It was quite the move on his father’s part. How perfect it would’ve been if Hannah had turned down the position as she’d intended. If that weekend in the Hamptons hadn’t ruined everything, Jonathan would’ve funded someone else’s future. God, he wished he could’ve seen that play out.
He hit the Call button, resolve building in him.
“Will?”
“Hey.” The sound of her voice was a balm to the scorch marks she’d left on him. He could just say he loved her and everything between them was okay. It would be so easy. But no, he had to do this.
“I’m so glad you called,” she said, her words tentative but her tone hopeful. “I’m sorry about your fa—”
“I want to dissolve the pact.”
Chapter 50
Hannah
“I want to dissolve the pact.”
“What? No. That’s not what I want,” she said, alarmed. He couldn’t mean he wanted to end things—to get divorced?
Hannah turned to face the ongoing photo shoot. Panic was setting in at Will’s words, but a portion of her mind still needed to pay attention to her crew. Everything seemed to be in order. No expense had been spared—thanks, Dad. She picked at the fruit she’d skimmed from the catering cart. Leonard didn’t have much of a rider, so they’d had to improvise. Fortunately, Hannah had read enough Wilderness Weekend interviews and attended enough shows to have gleaned some idea of Leonard’s foods of choice—at least she hoped. The shoot was wrapping up, and Leonard chatted with the photographer.
Hannah turned away from the scene, wishing there was somewhere more private to have this conversation. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I meant every word of our vows. And I’m afraid that the pact is all that’s keeping you in our relationship. You’re stuck with me for a year, and it helps pass the time if you’re i
n love with me. Added bonus that the sex is great.”
“You wrote that clause in the rules, not me,” she said, agitated. How could he throw that in her face?
“Exactly,” he said. “I wrote in that we could date. You wrote in that our friendship was the most important thing. I may have needed to get married to get my family to take me seriously, to save my career, but I chose you because for me, there was no one else. I chose you, Hannah. I need you to choose me now.”
Behind her, the sounds of equipment being put away grew louder. She stepped further away, noting that Leonard was still talking to the photographer. Choose Will? She’d chosen him when she’d suggested they share a bed. Then she’d almost turned down Boston for him. She’d even said she loved him first. “That’s not fair.”
“Maybe it’s not,” Will said softly. At least breaking her heart didn’t seem easy for him. “But this is your out. Choose me or don’t. The pact has been this safety net keeping us together, and if we’re going to have any chance of abiding by Rule 5, it needs to end.”
She hadn’t thought of the pact as a failsafe, not once. Falling in love negated the one-year clause—at least, it had for her. “Rule 5 was a pipe dream, Will! We were always either going to get divorced or fall in love.” Or both.
“I know that! Don’t you think I know that?” Agitation finally showed in his voice. He clearly hadn’t thought this through before calling her.
“You’re not making any sense.”
Will sighed heavily on the other end of the line, and Hannah knew his hair had to be mussed—she hoped he didn’t have any interviews today.
“‘If this doesn’t work out, I’ll have nowhere to go.’ That’s what you said. I know I came to you with the pact, but maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should’ve just asked you on a date like a normal person. Most people don’t need to keep a second apartment in case things go wrong. They risk everything on the chance that it will work out. I need you to do that now, and the only way I’ll ever believe you want to be with me is if we end the pact.”
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