When We're Thirty

by Casey Dembowski

  He had a whole plan—champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries, and a brand new pair of sneakers—but there’d been no time to find the perfect running shoes. He’d take her to the store another day and let her pick them out. It would be an experience that way, something she might remember longer than the life of the shoes. At least that was what Eddie was always telling him—make moments.

  Will turned at the sound of the front door opening. Hannah entered, balancing a pizza box on one arm and holding several bags in the other. He followed her into the kitchen, his stomach growling as the scent of garlic, tomato, bread, and cheese hit him.

  “It was like the entirety of the Upper East Side was at Frankie’s tonight,” she said, putting the box down on the kitchen table.

  He waited until she dropped the rest of her stuff before sweeping her into a hug. “When is our first run?”

  She laughed against him. “Probably Sunday morning. We can get in a workout instead of a workout.”

  “I think we can work out and then work out.” He raised one eyebrow suggestively, which made her laugh harder.

  “That kind of sweaty is not sexy,” she said, handing him a plate with a slice of pizza.

  Will swallowed his retort. It would be better to prove her wrong and absolutely more fun.

  They sat down to dinner, and for a few minutes, the only conversation centered around passing each other more pizza and refilling water glasses. Tonight, the silence felt heavy, and every time he tried to catch Hannah’s eye, she turned away. Had he not heard from Daniel about her knee looking better, he would’ve suspected she was lying about the outcome.

  “Everything okay over there?” He let the tips of his fingers mingle with hers across the table.

  She straightened and let her fingers slip out of his. “Riley offered me a promotion today.”

  “What? Way to bury the lede—pun totally intended.”

  She shook her head. “It’s interim editor in chief of Deafening Silence Boston.”

  The words didn’t sink in at first. Not all of them. Interim editor in chief. Pride swelled in him. She’d made it. Her dreams were coming true. His wife was going to be editor in chief. Then the rest of her title hit. Boston. She couldn’t manage the Boston edition from New York.

  “Whoa.”

  “Yup.”

  “When do you leave?” he asked, even though the last thing he wanted was to hear the answer. Because if she was telling him now, then the answer was soon, sooner than a year. Too soon for all the plans he’d started making.

  “Will,” she said, reaching for his hand.

  “Do you want out of the pact?” he asked, eyes trained on the table. He couldn’t watch her say she was leaving him.

  “Come with me.” She scooted her chair closer to him, cupping his hands in hers. “It’s only for a few months until they hire a full-time editor. And I love you, so come with me.”

  “You love me?”

  She rested her forehead against his. “Yes, Will Thorne, I love you. I have always loved you.”

  He’d been waiting a decade to hear those words. He kissed her, long and deep, putting every ounce of his love into it. “Me too,” he whispered against her lips.

  “You too, what?” Hannah asked, her eyes locked on his, searching.

  “I love you, Hannah Abbott-Thorne,” he said, cupping her face.

  “Then come with me to Boston.”

  Timing was such a bitch. Getting allowance to relocate, even temporarily, would’ve been difficult at any time. Wellington Thorne wasn’t exactly known for being up with the times.

  He kissed the hand that still covered his. “I wish that was possible, Abbott, I do. But there’s no way my uncle’s going to let me move to Boston in the middle of this case.”

  “Then I won’t go.” Hannah’s voice was steady and determined. Her eyes, glassy with unshed tears, bored into him.

  “I can’t be the reason you turn this down,” he said, his voice cracking.

  She pressed their entwined hands against his heart. “And I can’t do this without you.”

  Chapter 38

  Will

  Light snow dusted the ground, and the night sky twinkled. He hoped it wouldn’t stick, at least not until Hannah arrived safely in the Hamptons. She and the rest of her team were covering an indoor music festival on the Island all day. Will had dropped her off, and Daniel had agreed to drive her the rest of the way after his shift. Once Hannah was safely in his arms and he could smell the sweet scent of her skin, then bring on the snow. It would at least give him a solid block of time to convince her to take the Boston job. As of that morning, she was planning to turn it down, but she had agreed to wait to give Riley a final answer.

  He stared down at the journal he kept in the Hamptons, sometimes in his room, sometimes in his mother’s room. For once, he didn’t feel like visiting with her. He lay back on his bed and sketched Hannah’s name into the margin. Hannah loved him. He’d hoped when he knocked on her door with that ridiculous ring that this would be the outcome. But the reality was better than his dreams. His wife was so much more than he could’ve imagined.

  A knock at the door pulled him out of his reverie. Hannah wouldn’t knock, and his father had long since retired. Whoever was on the other side of that door was someone he didn’t want to see. Today had been better, but that didn’t mean he was up for late-night heart-to-hearts with either Jon or Madison. The knock came again, softly—Madison. He banged his head against the headboard twice. Why?

  Against his better judgment, he made his way over to the door. He could feel Madison’s presence, thick and desperate. If they hadn’t been in the Hamptons, the date might have swept past him without consideration. His mind was knee-deep in reports and Hannah—always Hannah—but it was hard to forget their old anniversary when the person who’d shattered his heart had been sitting across the room all day and was knocking on his door.

  He leaned against the doorframe and hid his face in his arm. He didn’t want to do this. She had chosen Jon over and over for months, and she chose him still. And Will’s heart belonged to Hannah. It always had. He chose Hannah. He would always choose Hannah.

  “Will, please,” Madison said, so quietly it was like she knew he was standing on the other side of the door.

  He took a breath. He could do this. Madison’s hold on him was gone. It was just another night. The knock came again, and he knew she wouldn’t leave until he opened the door. Hannah would find her crying outside his door, and then there would be questions. He pushed the image of Hannah to the forefront of his mind. Her eyes had been so full of love when she told him she was adding his last name to her own. They were perfect together, and nothing Madison said could ever change that. He pulled open the door.

  Madison straightened, lifting her eyes to his. Tears stained her cheeks, and her eyes were filled with more unshed.

  The harsh “make it quick” he’d planned on saying died on his lips at her tears. “Maddie,” he said, the endearment slipping out unintentionally. “What’s going on?”

  “Jon and I had a fight,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

  He tucked his hands into his pockets. “About?”

  “He thinks I’m still in love with you.”

  Well, that was something. He hadn’t thought Jon even gave him a second thought when he’d decided to steal his girlfriend. “And you thought showing up at my door after your fight was going to assuage his fears?”

  She sniffled, he thought to cover a laugh, but then a sob racked her body. “He’s right, though.”

  Shit.

  “It should’ve been you,” she continued. “I thought... I thought we’d be together for always, like we promised, and I know—fuck, I know I messed it up.”

  “You didn’t mess it up,” he said, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. “You fucking blew our relationship to pieces.”

  The anger he’d long since digested roiled in his stomach. His hands clenched into fists. Was
she serious? He felt the tautness of his control.

  “And then you agreed to marry him! You didn’t even talk to me about it.”

  “I knew you would never forgive me.” She paused. “Would you have—could we have gone back?”

  “We’re not doing this. I’m married. You’re engaged to my brother.” He took a breath. “You made your choice. And I made mine. Whether you regret it or not is not my problem. Besides, I thought you and Hannah were friends.”

  “This isn’t about Hannah,” Madison said, tears continuing to stream down her face.

  “This is entirely about Hannah.”

  “I love you, William.”

  A gasp echoed down the hall. Will didn’t have to look to know it was Hannah. He’d known she was almost here. He’d opened the damned door. Will and Hannah’s eyes met, with Madison, the embodiment of his cowardly secret, standing between them.

  Chapter 39

  Hannah

  I love you, William.

  God, was she ever going to get that image out of her head? Will had been leaning against the doorjamb in his pajamas, a pained expression on his face. Madison had been close—too close—tears streaking down her cheeks. Madison was Will’s maligned ex. Of course she was.

  Hannah stopped at the front door, dropping her bag onto the floor. Several sets of keys hung from hooks in the mudroom. She pulled Will’s down and slid them into the pocket of her hoodie. She couldn’t stay here.

  Her stomach churned. She leaned against the door, willing herself to stay on her feet as a sob wracked her body. Why hadn’t he told her? Worse yet, how hadn’t she figured it out? Hannah had seen it, had felt the weird tension between the two of them for months. It explained Will’s hesitation whenever she asked a question about Madison and his awkward encounter with Madison’s parents at the party. He’d been filtering his answers the whole time.

  Fuck. She was such an idiot.

  “Hannah.”

  “Leave me alone, Will.” He must have followed her. Why hadn’t she thought to hide in one of the million rooms in this house?

  “It’s not—”

  She whipped her head up. He had to be kidding. “It’s not what it looks like? You mean Madison’s not your ex, and she’s not still in love with you?”

  “Just listen to me, Abbott.”

  No. He didn’t get to call her Abbott or Mrs. Thorne. He didn’t get to explain. Not then. Maybe not ever. Hannah pulled open the front door and stepped out into the frigid night air. They’d had the coldest temperatures all season this week, and she was in a hoodie.

  “Hannah, wait! What are you doing?” Will grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. “Please don’t go. I love you.”

  “Don’t say that to me.” She turned to face him, and for a split second, she worried about him being out in the snow in only his pajamas. He wasn’t even wearing shoes. “You don’t get to say that to me.”

  “Madison is just upset. She doesn’t mean it.”

  “Are you serious right now?” she yelled, pushing him away from her. “Screw Madison! How could you lie to me this whole time? Did you think I would never find out? That I wouldn’t care that you married me to hurt her?”

  She watched him try to come up with an answer. Finally, he shook his head and looked at her with sad eyes. “I didn’t marry you to hurt her.” He reached for her and she flinched. He dug his hands into his pockets, his eyes imploring her to listen. But she couldn’t. “Please come back inside.”

  She shook her head. “I trusted you with everything.”

  Without waiting for another response, she turned and ran to Will’s car, barely able to see through the tears. She climbed in, started the engine, and threw the car into reverse in one beat. Hannah peeled out of the driveway, refusing to look back at Will. She drove for miles and miles, the road ahead of her blurry from her tears. She didn’t even know how to get home from here, but she couldn’t stop to find her phone. If she stopped, she’d lose the small ounce of sanity keeping her hands steady on the wheel. If she stayed on this road, it would lead her to a highway eventually.

  Will and Madison. Will and fucking Madison. Had this been a joke to them? Some weird foreplay before they decided they were destined for each other. Every moment of the last three months blackened—had any of it been real? The thought alone brought an ache to her chest. It had to be real.

  A horn honked, and a splash of light sparked in her periphery. Hannah jerked the wheel to the right, narrowly avoiding a car in the oncoming lane. Her car screeched onto the shoulder. She threw it into park. Shit. She breathed heavily, trying not to hyperventilate. How was this her life? She screamed in the silence of the car, hitting the steering wheel over and over. Tears stung her eyes. There was no escaping the truth—Will, the last boy she’d truly trusted, had lied to her.

  She took a breath. Music, directions, Riley, in that order. Scrolling through her music app, she selected Dashboard Confessional. Lyrics filled the small space.

  Next, the unnatural voice of her GPS navigation sounded: “Turn left in one thousand feet.”

  Hannah hesitated for only a moment before opening her text exchange with Riley. I’ll be in Boston tomorrow afternoon.

  Part 3

  Chapter 40

  Will

  Will stared at the note, reading the simple sentence again and again. I took the job in Boston. Hannah hadn’t even signed it. He’d rushed out after her, going back inside only to get dressed and grab Daniel’s keys, but the effort had been fruitless. An accident on the Southern State Parkway had stranded him, and by the time he’d gotten back to the apartment, she’d gone. He knew she was at Kate’s. She had nowhere else to go in the middle of the night. But that note stopped him. Her words echoed in his head—You don’t get to say that to me. I trusted you with everything. The way she’d looked at him, as if she didn’t know who he was anymore, haunted him. Hannah had been the one person who’d never looked at him like that.

  It had been three days with no word from her. He hadn’t been back to work because the energy required was too much. People, namely Jon, were starting to ask questions, but Will didn’t care. It wasn’t his place to tell Jon what Madison had said, what she had done. He no longer owed Jon anything. He knew he needed a story—one grounded in truth—for why he’d left the Hamptons so suddenly and why Hannah was mysteriously absent from New York. At least he could tell the truth on that one—she had taken an unexpected job opportunity in Boston, and they were figuring out the details. They had to figure out the details. That couldn’t be it.

  She loved him. She’d said it first and with such weight behind her words. She’d been willing to give up her promotion to be with him. And he’d repaid her by lying and by opening that damned door. The romantic in him wanted to fly to Boston and demand she hear him out. He would confess his love for her, beg her to take him back—whatever it took, he would do it. But her look had killed the romantic. If Hannah had wanted to save their marriage, she would’ve left more than a note, and she wouldn’t have taken Binx.

  The apartment door creaked open. Will didn’t even turn toward it, just kept staring at that note. It wasn’t going to be Hannah.

  “William,” Daniel said, putting his hand on Will’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  He handed Daniel the note. “She left me.”

  “She’ll come back,” Daniel said, folding the note into neat squares. “Hannah loves you. You just have to give her some space. Make some changes. Get Madison the fuck out of your life.”

  Will dropped his head into his hands. “Jon and Madison are a package deal.”

  “Then maybe... you need to tell him. He’s a big boy, William. And if he stays with her, then he can get out too. We don’t need him.”

  Will pulled Daniel into a hug, his shoulders shaking under the weight of his tears. “Thank you.”

  “Pack your stuff,” Daniel said, holding Will tighter. “You’re not staying here alone.”

  WILL WISHED, NOT FOR the f
irst time, that his office door had a lock. He’d gotten through the last week by keeping his door shut all day, every day. And it had worked for the most part. Only his junior associate, Sean, and various administrative assistants had stopped by. He wished that the seclusion had helped him finish reading the report Frank had finally sent over or line up the best expert witnesses he could find. But it was Monday again, and Will was still spending most of his time playing Minesweeper and staring at his cell phone. Hannah hadn’t answered a single one of his calls or texts. He only knew she was safely in Boston because Kate took pity on him.

  After a week of silence, Will couldn’t have his calls go unanswered any longer. It hurt too much. He typed out a simple text: I love you, Hannah. It was a final plea to save his faltering marriage before it had even really begun. He hit Send and slid the phone into his desk drawer. Either Hannah would answer him or, more likely, not.

  The handle on his door jiggled, then Jonathan stood in front of him. He was dressed in a full suit and tie for the first of two days of the quarterly executive board meeting this afternoon.

  “Good afternoon, Jonathan,” Will said, standing in greeting.

  His father waved the formality away and sat down in the chair across from Will. That was unexpected. In all Will’s time at Wellington Thorne, his father had never sat down in Will’s office. “Hello, son.”

  Will blinked. Jonathan never called him that when dressed for work. It couldn’t be. His uncle couldn’t have worked that fast.

  “How are you?” Jonathan continued. “I hear Hannah is in Boston? That must be... difficult for you two.”

  Will swallowed before answering, tempering his tone. His father was baiting him, trying to trick him into giving out information that would prove his marriage was a sham. “It’s been rough. She’s busy, but I’m needed here, as you and Grayson pointed out when I asked you to allow me to go with her.”