“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “You being here is already making it better. Trust me.”

A town car idled at the curb, and the driver stepped out, waiting by the back door for Will. Because Will took a town car to work.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride downtown?” he asked, his eyes imploring her to just get in the car already.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was already going to be early. Most of the Deafening Silence staff didn’t roll in until ten—except for Riley, who seemed to be there no matter what time of day it was. “The subway is more than fine.”

“All right.” He kissed her on the cheek. Always her cheek. She worried how they were going to make people believe they were in love if their lips never touched and they didn’t even share a bed. Then again, apparently everyone had known they were in love in college even when they hadn’t.  

“See you after your show tonight,” he said with a tip of his imaginary hat.

“You don’t have to wait up.” She thought about how late she usually got home and how much she smelled like stale beer and weed and sweat. And how they would go to separate rooms to sleep.

“But I do.” He grinned and dropped his briefcase in the trunk. “It’s my husbandly duty, Mrs. Thorne.”

“HANNAH?” RILEY’S VOICE rang through the small office, louder than usual considering no one else was in yet. She would suspect Riley slept at the office if Hannah didn’t know she had a husband and a toddler and couldn’t possibly fit on her office couch at nine months pregnant. But even Riley had her limits, and missing Cecilia’s bedtime was one of them.

“Be right there!” Hannah dropped her bag onto her chair and poked at the wilting carnations. She’d left two at her desk in her Write Like a Motherfucker mug. Whenever her mother saw the mug—mainly in pictures whenever Hannah moved desks—she scoffed at its utter lack of professionalism. That it had come from Riley via an online journal they both loved or that it was one of Hannah’s most prized possessions was irrelevant. The carnations hadn’t fared well in the week she’d been away. Dumping them seemed callous—they were her first flowers from her now-husband—and the full bouquet hadn’t survived Binx and then the move.

The sound of the overpriced, overcomplicated espresso machine pulled Hannah from the flowers. Riley leaned against the counter, a pen dangling from her lips as she read from a proof of the next edition. Hannah could see the red marks from across the room.

“That’d better not be my section,” she said, walking over and reaching for the regular coffee grounds and percolator. Hannah liked lattes as much as the next person, but the machine they had made mud. That was coming from someone who had tasted all the roasts Starbucks had to offer via French press. And for the last eight months, it had been decaffeinated mud. Gross.

“No, I finished your section last night. Henry’s story turned out better than expected.” She wrote something then, with a shake of her head, scribbled it out and wrote a hasty stet at the end of the line.

“I know.” Hannah wondered when Riley would look up and notice the diamonds encircling her ring finger or even ask how her vacation had gone. She knew from experience it could be several more minutes. When Riley was editing pre-coffee, there was little else she noticed.

“Do you think we should hire him after graduation?” She looked up finally, her eyelids heavy with lack of sleep. Hannah remembered Riley’s ninth month the first time around. There had been days when she hadn’t slept, kept up by back pain and heartburn. And Baby Sutton the Second didn’t like to cooperate, just like her big sister. 

“How long have you been here?” Hannah aerated Riley’s milk to tournament-quality foam.

She shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, and CeCe was having a sleepover at my mom’s, so I just came in... maybe around seven?” Riley accepted the coffee mug from Hannah with a contented sigh. “You always make the best lattes.”

“Job security,” Hannah joked, angling her hand so her wedding band was out in the open. She should’ve worn the engagement ring too. No one could miss that thing.

“How was your trip?” Riley asked, taking a seat on the battered couch they used as a coffee lounge. She put the proof down, but Hannah knew her mind was still going over whatever edit she’d left dangling. Stets didn’t last long in Riley’s world.

Hannah sat down across from her, leaning her elbows on her knees. It was no use—not when Riley was in one of her moods. Nothing would draw her attention—not a sparkling diamond band, not any subtle hints.

“Well, I actually—” Hannah took a calming breath. Despite Kate and Stephanie knowing, the official marriage license, and the honeymoon, saying it out loud at work made everything real. She plastered a giant grin on her face and held up her left hand. “I got married.”

Riley blinked at Hannah’s outstretched hand a few times before meeting her gaze uncertainly. “You and Brian got married?”

She’d walked into that one. The trial run with Stephanie clearly hadn’t taught her anything about prepping the announcement. At least Riley hadn’t assumed she was pregnant—out loud anyway.  

“No, Brian and I broke up.” Hannah ran through the story she and Will had crafted to perfection before letting it spill out. “His name is Will Thorne. We went to college together and reconnected a few months ago. It was totally platonic until it wasn’t.”

“Sounds like the tagline to the next big rom-com.” Riley gave an exaggerated sigh, holding up her hands as if setting the scene. “Hannah and Will’s friendship was completely platonic... until it wasn’t. Flash to big heated first kiss followed by sad girl sitting in the window, sad boy out with his friends. Will things between them ever be the same again?”

“Maybe I should write the screenplay.” Hannah sat back and took a sip of coffee, her heart rate finally coming down a few measures. Thank God for people like Riley—people who loved love and loved their friends, and just went with it. No matter what Riley might really be thinking, she wasn’t going to share it without a direct request. Sometimes you needed a Kate, and sometimes you needed a Riley—having both was a blessing.

“A Deafening Silence production. Written by Hannah Abbott... Thorne?”

“Abbott. At least for now.” Hannah didn’t have strong feelings either way about changing her name. She had always assumed she would change it—that was what people did when they got married and started a family unit.

“Oh, you millennials and your contemporary notions. Next you’re going tell me that you and this Will character are creating a new last name. Thabbott or Abborne.”

“Not exactly.” Hannah scrunched her nose at the names—they were awful. She’d have to present them to Will later. “But if I’m a millennial, you’re a millennial.”

Riley stood up as quickly as someone with another person living inside them could, her hands on her hips. “You take that back, Thabbott. Take that back right now.”

“Or what?” Hannah smirked as Riley’s countenance cracked. This was her favorite Riley. The Riley when the rest of the office wasn’t around, when she wasn’t worried about budgets and press checks and keeping solid writers without a benefits package.

Riley looked her dead in the eye. Whatever she was about to say was a trump card. “Or I’ll let Henry run his Amityville story as the lead in your section.”

Touché.

Chapter 17Will

Ten days. They’d been married for ten days. And even the last four back in society were excellent. Work pulled them in too many directions, but there’d been breakfast every day. And no matter what time Hannah rolled in, no matter what she smelled like, Will was awake and waiting. Those small moments made his days bearable. Even sans wedding ring, he felt it in his breast pocket, and it was enough. Work had been enjoyable, and Jon less grating—they’d even shared a lunch with Grayson where Jon had spent thirty minutes trying to find out why Will was in such a good mood. Well, in one more day, he would know.

Getting out to the Hamptons on a Friday night was a bitch any time of year, but that didn’t stop their father from requesting an early arrival to maximize Saturday mornings. These were Will’s last hours as a secretly married man. Putting that ring on and never taking it off was going to feel amazing. How did other men feel trapped by their rings?

Will watched the numbers rise as the elevator lurched to the top floor. It had been a trying day, spent buried in contracts and reports. All he wanted to do was fall onto the couch and watch bad TV, not get in the car and drive three hours. At least Hannah would be with him. His wife was his key to keeping his footing at Wellington Thorne and to proving he wasn’t the proverbial screwup his father had cast him as so many years ago.  

Will stepped out of the elevator, and voices floated down the hallway from the direction of their apartment. Maybe Mrs. Schumacher had finally come to meet Hannah. She’d mentioned it that morning when they’d passed in the lobby.

But as he got closer, he could see the door to their apartment open and a few boxes of stacked outside. Most likely books or clothes since Hannah hadn’t wanted the movers packing either. That meant their visitor must be Kate.

“You are so Tally Atwater,” Kate said.

Will stepped closer as Hannah made some snarky reply. They stood in the doorway, Kate leaning against the jamb, Hannah standing just inside. They would’ve noticed him if they were paying attention. Kate and Hannah, in their element—it had been too long. 

“What?” Kate said, rubbing her arm. “It’s a compliment. You made it. You dreamed the impossible dream.”

Kate and Hannah had to be the only thirty-year-olds to casually reference Up Close and Personal without being prompted. He hadn’t escaped their repeated viewings of it either. He’d immediately caught the reference.

Hannah giggled, her gaze sliding past Kate to Will standing outside the doorway. She straightened, but her expression stayed light and playful. “Hey.”

Kate turned around. “Hubs!”

Will laughed. Only Kate. At least she was on board with it. They were going to need allies, and Kate had always been a good one.