2a. What’s yours is yours and what’s mine is mine.
Number 3: We may not date other people.
3a. We can choose to date each other.
Number 4: Binx is allowed to sleep in the bedroom.
4a. In a cat bed.
Number 5: Our friendship is the most important thing.
5a. No matter what, we stay friends.
Hannah looked up from the list. “How does that make it any better?”
“It gives us options. And an out—‘no matter what, we stay friends.’” He gently turned her palm into his. “You might love being married to me, Abbott.”
“Doubtful,” she said. “I remember what it was like to live with you—boxers mixed in with my clothes and your socks hanging off the television and the Christmas tree!”
“I promise I put my socks in the hamper now,” he said with a grin.
She met his gaze, allowing herself to get lost in it for a moment, recalling all those long-ago feelings to the surface. He was still the boy she’d loved—older and a bit more broken, but so was she. “Let’s get married.”
His expression softened, though he clearly had questions. Hannah wondered if he was afraid to break the silence until his hand cupped hers. “Why?”
“Because you’re sweet and I want to help you.”
Pink spots formed on Will’s cheeks, and she knew she’d convinced him.
“I’ve missed you, Will Thorne.”
He smiled his real smile—the one she’d been waiting to see since he’d shown up at her door. He closed his fingers around hers and pulled them both to their feet.
“What are you doing?” she asked as he led her behind the couch.
He didn’t respond except to grin wider. Then after a quick search around the space, he found what he was looking for—the dimmer switch. The room fell into a golden hue of sunset lighting. He returned to her, dropping down to one knee.
“What are you doing?” she whispered again.
“Giving you a proper proposal.” He took the ring out of his pocket and held it out to her. “Hannah...”
Hannah held her breath, waiting for the words every girl dreamed of hearing one day, but Will seemed frozen.
“I don’t know your middle name,” he said with a small, uncomfortable laugh.
“Guess we should’ve made profiles instead of rules.” She waited a few extra beats before revealing the answer. “It’s Grace.”
“Hannah Grace Abbott.” He put extra emphasis on her middle name, and for once, she liked it. Her parents had cursed her with a monogram that read “HAG” for the first thirty years of her life—yet another marriage benefit. She should really be writing these down. Will tugged gently on her hand, and she focused back on him and the ring and the moment. “Would you do me the extraordinary honor of marrying me?”
Her heart sped up, and despite the inauthentic circumstances of the proposal, the weight of the ring on her finger made it all the more real. Thirty years and she’d never worn a ring on that finger, and yet, as she looked down at the princess cut, the ring—which she knew must have been intended for someone else—looked like it had always belonged there.
“Yes, I’ll marry you, William Anderson Thorne.”
He groaned. “Only you would show me up at my own marriage proposal.”
“I suggest you get used to it,” she said with a grin.
Chapter 9Hannah
Hannah stared at the mash of letters in her word-scramble game, swiping a random combination. The game shook, signaling an error. Frustrated, she dropped the phone onto the bed next to her. Sleep wouldn’t come, no matter how many sheep she counted or how long she played that incessant white noise app. She’d read through the latest issue of Talented—the one meant for Kate—twice already. She knew everything there was to know about Matt Czurchy’s newest role and the inspiration behind Maroon 5’s latest album. She didn’t even like Maroon 5, but it wasn’t like Talented was going to have anyone remotely indie in its pages. Turning on her side, she picked up her engagement ring. It was ostentatious and everything she thought she’d never like. But she did like it. Maybe everyone liked their engagement ring because of what it symbolized, or because of that forever memory. Or maybe she was more materialistic than she wanted to be. A ring like that said something about who she was and the company she kept.
Will had already planned to spend the day on the golf course with one of their mutual college friends, Eddie. He had invited her along and even offered to cancel, but Hannah had wanted the day to decompress. And if Will saw how awful she was at golf, he might rescind his proposal.
Sitting alone in her apartment, she wondered if it would’ve been better to stay in the moment. And if she should’ve asked him to stay the night, considering they couldn’t date other people. Will had been pretty clear that the marriage had to appear as real as possible in public, but she’d been the one to push for exclusivity. Hannah didn’t want anyone to see her husband out with another woman. Marriage of convenience or not, there needed to be some sanctity—particularly if they evoked the clause about dating each other. Will had written it down in his clunky handwriting without hesitation. Because sex. Who wanted to not have sex for a year when they were sharing a bed? At least, she assumed they were sharing a bed. It would be too obvious otherwise, and in the city’s closet-sized spaces, having a second bedroom was unlikely. Though Will clearly had money.
She opened the memo app on her phone and added a note: Where do I sleep? Under it, she wrote a second question: Do I want to sleep with Will?
It was a valid question. The glimpses of him she’d gotten at the various toga parties over the years had been pleasing, and there’d been that one time she’d seen his butt. And it was a nice butt—it could be his main selling point when it came to appearance, especially with the jeans from yesterday. Thank God for slim-fit, straight-leg jeans. Brian always wore relaxed fit. Brian. Her heart rejected the casual reference. Had it only been two days? It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about him—she had. But whenever the thought popped into her mind, she banished it or let it bounce away. She needed to figure things out with Will first. That was all her brain could handle at the moment. Mission accomplished. Checklist checked. But now, she couldn’t ignore the Brian in the room, even as much as she wanted to.
She wasn’t callous enough to feel nothing. Things hadn’t been great for a while, but she did love Brian. A fight, a night, and an engagement weren’t going to suddenly change her feelings. That didn’t mean she wanted to get back together, but she couldn’t help checking her phone for an apology or, at the very least, an I’m coming to get my stuff text. Emotions whirled around inside her, and she let them grow. They extended to the tips of her fingers and burrowed deep in her gut. Each emotion demanded to be felt and experienced. Sorrow, loss, relief, fear, and clarity trickled down her cheeks. It had been time to end things—she knew that, had known it for months—but Will’s arrival had pushed the issue. Anger flashed in her chest, and for a moment, she hated Will and his stupid smile and his beautiful engagement ring and his perfectly shaped ass.
But this wasn’t Will’s fault—yes, it definitely was. Though she had let things with Brian settle into comfortable dissatisfaction. Long-term, their life together would have been an unhappy one, filled with the differences they refused to either acknowledge or reconcile. She didn’t know why she was wasting time on these thoughts. A real future with Brian had always been a moot point. Binx was only three, and she wasn’t getting rid of him, and Brian would never have moved in with them. That didn’t make it hurt less.
Her hand trembled as she wiped away stray tears. Her heart was bruised, but she could already feel it rebounding. The decision to marry Will—though crazy—was a good one. She believed that. She longed to talk with Kate, her fingers hovering over her phone, but Kate hadn’t answered a single one of Hannah’s calls in the last three days. Kate had posted the latest podcast episode, so Hannah knew she was alive and well. And tonight, Hannah wanted to share her news with someone, not explain it. She swiped around until she found her text conversation with her sister. She glanced up at the time in the corner of her phone—nine forty-five. Not too late, but Stephanie was an old twenty-six.
I’m getting married in two days, she typed, the words unbelievable even to herself.
