They drove in comfortable silence for several miles. It was enough to be in this moment. It always was with him. So much had changed yet remained exactly the same. But then, that had always been the nature of their friendship.
“WE’RE HERE,” WILL SAID as they turned onto a circle drive.
Hannah’s breath caught as she took in the mansion. She’d heard about the wealth of the Hamptons, had seen it on television shows, but it was all Hollywood magic and hearsay until now. “Holy shit.”
“My dad bought it for my mom for their twentieth wedding anniversary,” he said as they pulled in next to a Mercedes. And she thought his rarely used Lexus was a luxury. “It was her favorite place in the whole world.”
“How old were you then?” She wondered if he noticed how his voice changed whenever he spoke about his mother. It took on a soft and faraway tone, his memories showing through.
“Thirteen or so? We’d always vacationed out here, but this place was obviously something completely special.”
His mother had only had her haven for five years. Not nearly long enough. Or perhaps perfectly long enough because she’d shared it with all her boys. Hannah wished she knew. For all the drama with his father, the original Mrs. Thorne seemed the picture of an affectionate and caring mother, the best you could hope for in this world.
She placed her hand over his again. “Is it hard coming here?”
He laughed lightly, turning his hand over and intertwining their fingers. “It was at first. But now, it’s where I feel closest to her. This was her house. She had a hand in every aspect of its design and decoration. I think—I know that’s why my dad can’t sell it.”
They stepped out of the car.
“I wish I could’ve met her.”
Will rested his elbow on the roof of his Lexus. In the driveway lights, she could just make out the wistful expression playing across his face. “Well, I like to think that in some mystical way, she brought us together. Nothing else could’ve driven me out of New York—especially not to the cornfields of Iowa.”
She rolled her eyes. “We were hardly in the cornfields.”
He walked around the car and took her hand in his. “Are you ready to face the firing squad?”
She glanced up at the mostly dark house. “Is anyone even awake?”
“Oh, I’m sure someone’s awake.” He led them toward the front door. “Daniel isn’t even here yet.”
Daniel, the doctor. Hannah had a running list of Thorne family members in her head as well as the creative and not-so-nice descriptors Will had given each of them, Daniel being the exception.
He squeezed her hand, and she was surprised to note that she didn’t feel the weight of his hand in hers anymore. She’d already gotten used to it. It was the same with his sweet pecks on her cheeks. But as much as their natural flow and banter filled in enough blanks to make people think they were in love, she knew they were going to need more than that to get through an entire weekend with his overly observant family.
She stopped him at the base of the stairs leading to the house. “Will, wait.”
“Everything okay?”
Hannah took in the sight of him—the rigid set of his shoulders, the stress lines near his eyes. He was putting on a good show for her, but Will was nervous. She stepped closer and, without overthinking it, pressed her lips against his. His lips parted slightly, letting her in, but she felt him holding back, even as a spark shot through her.
She stepped away. Will stared down at her, awestruck. He hadn’t been expecting that. And why would he? Hannah hadn’t dropped hints that she wanted more than Will was giving. She wasn’t sure if that’s what she did want. There was so much at stake—most importantly, their friendship. She didn’t want to lose it again and not over kissing. “I just thought... I imagine we’re going to have to lay it on pretty heavy this weekend, and we haven’t—”
“You’re right.” He leaned down and kissed her again. It started light, but Hannah leaned into him, letting her arms come up around his neck. He smiled against her before breaking the kiss and running a cold finger across her flushed cheeks. “Good thinking, Abbott.”
“You probably shouldn’t call me that in front of your family,” she said with a smile.
“Right again.” He started up the steps, reclaiming her hand as he did. “Have you been in a fake marriage before?”
She laughed, though her nerves were getting the best of her. She took a breath, trying to calm her quickening pulse and the clamminess coming over her the closer they got to the door. It was silly to be this nervous. Even if Will’s family didn’t believe they were in love, there was nothing anyone could do. Their marriage was legal and binding. Will would secure his place at Wellington Thorne. But she wanted them to like her. Disapproving in-laws would only make everything harder, particularly with eleven more mandatory family weekends ahead of them, not to mention his brother’s wedding. If the mansion proved anything, that event was going to be like nothing Hannah had ever seen.
“Should I call you William?”
“Please don’t,” Will said, leading her into the house. Her eyes scanned the space, taking in the picturesque staircase and the giant chandelier. Seriously, they could host weddings in this place. “I prefer Will. It reminds me of better times.” He squeezed her hand. “My mom always called me Will.”
She flushed at the comment, her racing thoughts silencing and her heart calming. Romantic or not, she held a special place in Will’s heart. The urge to protect him swelled in her again.
She kissed him on the cheek. “Okay. Will, it is, then.”
With a final deep breath, Will led her through the labyrinth of the mansion. Every so often, he would point something out or tell her a story. She wondered if there was a map to the estate. What if she had to pee in the middle of the night? Who was she kidding? In this house, every bedroom probably had a bathroom.
They finally stopped at the entrance to what could only be called a den. A large wood fireplace burned low in the hearth. A couple that had to be Jon and Madison sat on one of the three couches, their backs to the door. They leaned into each other, heads almost touching as they talked. The Thorne patriarch was nowhere in sight.
Will cleared his throat. “Jon. Madison.”
They pulled apart enough to turn and look at Will. Hannah envied that level of comfort—to not be ashamed of your affection but to bask in it.
“Good evening, William.” Jon’s eyes lingered on Hannah for a beat too long. “And...?”
“This is Hannah... my wife.” Will’s smile reeked of something akin to smugness. She had expected that with his father, but not Jon—she didn’t know the whole story, but whatever was between them, it was big.
Silence ricocheted around the room, bouncing from Jon to Madison and back to Will and Hannah. She hadn’t thought Will would be so direct, though there wasn’t really a subtle way to introduce your new wife to your family. Maybe it was better to just tear the Band-Aid off.
After another excruciatingly long exchange of confused looks, Jon cleared his throat and lifted himself from the sofa. He offered Madison a hand, and Hannah saw the silent conversation between them. With a what the hell shrug, Madison accepted his hand and allowed herself to be drawn to her feet.
And Madison was gorgeous—all dark waves and deep brown eyes and curves.
They came around the sofa and stopped in front of Will and Hannah. Will’s hand slid down Hannah’s back, and she had never been more grateful for his touch.
“Congratulations, little brother. Hannah, it’s a pleasure to meet you. William hasn’t told us a thing.” He grinned. “I suppose we’ll get the whole story in the morning? It must be intriguing.”
Hannah took Jon’s outstretched hand, glad he hadn’t gone in for a hug. She didn’t think she could bear it.
“This is my fiancée, Madison,” Jon said in his booming voice.
Madison dragged her eyes away from Will and met Hannah’s gaze. She took Hannah’s measure
, though Hannah had no idea why. “What a surprise,” Madison finally said. “William never mentioned he was seeing someone.”
Hannah plastered on a smile to cover her nerves. “It was all kind of fast.”
The corners of Jon’s mouth quirked up, but he swallowed whatever he was going to say. Instead, he clasped Will on the back. “Congratulations, William. Really.”
Despite all the pleasantries, Hannah felt an undeniable awkwardness fill the room, both in the overly polite nature of Jon’s words and in the way Madison stared at her and Will’s intertwined hands. And then there was Will’s haughty smile.
Hannah yawned exaggeratedly. “Will, honey, can we head to bed? I’m wiped.”
Will tore his gaze away from Jon and Madison and kissed Hannah lightly on the temple. “Of course, Mrs. Thorne. Let me show you to our room.”
Chapter 19
Hannah
Hannah rolled over, her arm sinking into the still-warm pillow on the other side of the bed. In the split second before her brain caught on, she wondered if Brian had already started the coffee. Then she opened her eyes to the opulence of the room. Will, the Hamptons, long-standing family feuds. Right.
“Good morning, Mrs. Thorne.”
Hannah glanced around the room. Barely any light was peeking through the slats of the blinds. “Is it even morning?”
“For those of us not accustomed to working until two in the morning, yes, it is.” He sat at the edge of the bed, his foot resting on the bedframe while he tied his sneakers. She scooted over toward him. All the hairs on her arm stood up as she brushed his. He hadn’t had this effect on her in a decade—why now? It was more important than ever that she keep it all in check. A year didn’t seem that long until she was stuck in an unhappy situation because she couldn’t keep her pants on.
Hannah peeked at his shoes, ignoring the thrum running through her veins. They were running sneakers—nice ones too. Brooks were not a casual runner’s shoe.
“You run?” she asked, jealous she hadn’t brought her own pair but at the same time knowing there was no way she could go very far.
His face brightened. “Yeah. Daniel got me into it. We get up before the ‘state of the union’ brunch and do ten miles. It’s a family weekend tradition.”
“Ten miles.” He definitely was not a casual or occasional runner to pull that off on a Saturday morning.
He touched her arm lightly, and Hannah felt it again—that spark between them. Did he feel it too? She wondered again if what she was feeling was real or simply a side effect of their forced proximity.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It seemed insensitive since you clearly miss it. But if you think you’re up for it?” he asked, wrapping his headphones around his neck.
She shook her head. This weekend was no time to push her knee past its limits.
“Okay, well, brunch starts at nine. There’s always coffee in the kitchen.”
“Is there a map?” She laughed, but truthfully, the last thing she needed was to run into Jonathan on her own. Because that wouldn’t be awkward or confusing.
Will stopped playing with his Forerunner watch and glanced over at her, his cheeks still pink but paired with an expression somewhere between bashful and sympathetic. “I can take you down there or bring you up a cup.”
She sat up, attempting to comb through her bedhead with her fingers. “What are the odds that I would run into, say, your father who has no idea I exist?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him to already know.” He strapped the watch to his wrist. “Though Jonathan sightings are rare before brunch.”
HANNAH FOUND HERSELF surrounded by stainless steel in a kitchen larger than her old apartment. On a large piece of butcher block acting as a table was a coffee setup and an oversized bowl of fruit salad. Off to the side covered in plastic wrap was a plate of English muffins and what looked to be orange marmalade.
Will picked the plate up. “Renata is too good to me.”
Renata, Hannah had learned, was the housekeeper, cook, and general head of the staff— a staff that had dwindled to just Renata and Jonathan’s assistant, Arthur, in recent years.
Hannah sat down on one of the stools surrounding the table. She popped a grape into her mouth as the scent of the coffee made its way through her system, awakening her mind. The smell brought back memories of stumbling into Starbucks half-asleep, waiting for that first batch to brew, the sun not yet up but the city still awake. This was no Starbucks coffee. The steam coming off her cup smelled bold and bitter, and she detected a hint of other flavors—vanilla, cinnamon, and possibly lemon. But she’d never been one for strong roasts. She’d trudged through the mildest of roasts those early mornings at Starbucks because she had no other choice.
“All right,” Will said, wiping crumbs from his shirt. “You’re good? Can you find your way back?”
She nodded as she poured half-and-half into her coffee, watching it go from black to muddy to the edge of drinkable. “Have fun.”
The second the door swung shut, she dropped the smile and let her shoulders slump. Will was a runner. Hannah had never even seen him in workout clothes. Any other morning, she would’ve been happy for him, glad that he’d finally told her and wasn’t depriving himself of something he loved. But why this weekend? She was already the odd one out, and their best chance of being believable was to tell their story together. And yet, she wasn’t surprised. This was the Will she had always known, somehow always adrift and yet a constant in her life.
She stared down at her coffee, the color still one shade away from drinkable. If she put any more milk in this cup, she was going to have a very weird latte on her hands. She speared a piece of mango with her fork, wishing for plain old cantaloupe, then judged her coffee again. Any coffee had to be better than no coffee. Right?
Two knocks sounded from the entryway, pulling Hannah’s attention from her coffee disaster. Madison stood in the doorway. Her leggings and cowl-neck sweater looked much too warm for the weather, even with the ocean breeze. “Hannah, right?”
“Uh, yes. Good morning, Madison.” Hannah ran her fingers through her hair. She’d noted last night that Madison was gorgeous, but in the daylight, she was even more striking. Her chestnut hair, which had fallen in thick waves last night, was pulled back into a messy bun. Her eyes were bright, her face already made-up. Hannah had barely had time brush her teeth and wash her face before Will had escorted her downstairs.
Madison plucked a strawberry out of the bowl. “Please tell me you aren’t actually drinking that stuff.”
“I wasn’t aware I had a choice.” Hannah gave the kitchen another look but didn’t see any other means of procuring coffee.
“Well, I have ten bucks and the keys to the Mercedes. What do you say?”
“Oh, thank God.” Hannah hadn’t really gotten a read on Madison from Will—he’d mainly stuck to his blood relatives—but she seemed nice enough, and it would be helpful to have a female friend among the brood.
“Good,” Madison said, closing her hand around the keys. “You are going to need to be well-caffeinated to handle brunch with the boys.”
CARS HAD NEVER BEEN Hannah’s thing, but she couldn’t deny the appeal of the Mercedes. Everything was sleek lines and leather. But Madison was awful at driving it. It was no wonder she’d had to steal the keys.
“Your New Yorker is showing,” Hannah joked as Madison reattempted her parallel parking job.
“Hey, you’ve lived in the city your entire adult life. That makes you a New Yorker too.”
At least someone had accepted her into their ranks. Hannah was starting to wonder if it would ever happen. “Queens, Madison. We use cars in Queens.”
Madison rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything as she attempted to straighten the car out in a spot that could more than accommodate the coupe. After a few more maneuvers, Madison slammed the car into park. “Whatever. We’re going, like, twenty feet, and we’re in a town full of rich people. No one is going to hit th
e car.”
That was probably true, but Hannah couldn’t help but laugh when she stepped out of the car and onto pavement rather than the sidewalk. She’d seen some bad parking jobs in her day, but wow—at least the car was straight.
Hannah followed Madison down the street to a small café called the Peach Pit. The resemblance didn’t go much past the moniker—leave it to the Hamptons to outclass even fake Beverly Hills. The café was quiet, with an older couple and a few teenagers sitting at tables on opposite sides of the room. It was nothing like the Saturdays she had experienced at Starbucks, but this wasn’t the city, and it wasn’t in season. Hannah didn’t know how much of the town’s population was permanent. Maybe it was like Jersey Shore, where the BENNYs— tourists from the north that the locals only liked for their patronage—descended each summer, making the months between October and May the only bearable times to visit. Hannah stopped midscan of the menu. If she was officially a New Yorker, did that make her a BENNY?
“Are you okay?”
Hannah blinked a few times, Madison’s small frame coming back into focus with a coffee cup held out her to her. “Yes, sorry. I was just contemplating something horrid.” Hannah took the too-large cup, breathing in the wondrous smell of drinkable coffee.
“Well—” Madison eyed her up and down. “Please refrain from thinking such things. It is far too early, and we’re decaffeinated.”
They sat at a table near the older couple, as far from the teenage girls as they could get—not that that helped keep their squeals out of earsplitting decibels. Oh, to be sixteen. Beyond the clamor, the chorus of one of Hannah’s favorite songs was fading out.
Music found her everywhere. She might not be able to hear someone across a table from her in a crowded restaurant, but she’d be able to pick out the song, know the lyrics, and find it again throughout the course of a conversation. Wilderness Weekend’s latest track started up. A calmness came over her, as it did whenever one of their songs came on. It had been that way since she’d found them. It would be that way always.
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