“As you should be,” Kate said, but a smile played across her lips. “I’ll give you the details another time. All I’m going to say about this marriage of yours is that it’s going to make an amazing episode of Bitching about Boyfriends. It might even get its own arc.”
“You can’t, Kate,” Hannah said slowly. Her explanation had made it clear that the pact could not be mentioned again. “It’s a secret. In no way, shape, or form can you put me and Will in your podcast.”
Kate held up the cornflower-blue A-line dress she’d worn to Stephanie’s wedding against herself and frowned at Hannah through the mirror. “Fine, but you owe me. I have one more question.”
“Go on,” Hannah said, preparing herself for the worst.
Kate put down the A-line and picked up an eggplant high-low gown. “Have you even thought about what you are wearing?”
“Probably just one of my sundresses. Something with a hint of white?” She knew there were at least two options in her closet that should fit, though neither was appropriate bridal attire.
“That’s what I thought.” Kate pulled an off-white fit-and-flare from her closet. It was not a wedding dress but the kind of dress every bride-to-be donned at smaller events. It had lived in Kate’s closet for years—for her own eventual engagement.
Hannah shook her head. She couldn’t. But Kate only smiled and pressed the soft material into her hand with a nod.
Chapter 12Hannah
Hannah slid the folded piece of paper out of her notebook again. The letter had been harder to write than expected. Still, she felt good about the decision, Will or not. Brian hadn’t texted, and enough time had passed that any texts would feel awkward and delayed. He’d said his piece and owned it. Something like pride swelled in her chest. He’d grown a lot from the young barista she’d known and fell for, but not enough—never enough. After their argument, Hannah couldn’t help but acknowledge that he’d probably felt the same way about her for the same amount of time. Neither of them was quite good enough for the other, their edges always jabbing each other instead of smoothly sliding together. She knew what he would think when he heard she was married—what she would assume in the reverse situation. No one deserved to think they’d been cheated on.
She raised her hand to knock but dropped it to her side for the second time, acutely aware that she was making herself late for her own wedding. She still needed to get uptown in heels and a dress. Brian wasn’t home—at least, there was no reason he would be home. On Tuesdays, he went to the gym after work and then spent an inordinate number of hours playing Call of Duty or one of those other inane shooter games with his buddies. As ridiculous as she found it, Hannah had enjoyed the predictability. Finally, she knocked. She’d wait ten seconds, tape up the note, and be done with it. Eight... nine...
A stirring behind the door, a rattle of a doorknob, and then Brian stood in front of her in his standard uniform of jeans and a graphic T-shirt, this one reading The cake is a lie. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her, but he didn’t close the door in her face.
“You weren’t kidding,” he said, his voice unusually gruff and his eyes taking in the white dress. “I always imagined you with a subtler engagement ring.”
She tucked her hand against her side. Words escaped her. No version of this scenario had involved Brian being home. Had she even considered it, she wouldn’t have worn the ring and might have tried to cover the dress. “I wasn’t expecting you to be home.”
Could she have said something more banal? What was wrong with her? At least her voice had been steady, and she was pleased to note her heart still thrummed at its regular beat.
“I took a few days off.” Brian shifted his weight between legs but didn’t move from his blockade of the doorway.
She paused. Brian usually saved all his PTO for actual vacations, particularly his annual trip to San Diego for Comic-Con, where he fanboyed for three days. Hannah chanced a real look at him—heavy five-o’clock shadow, unkempt hair, wrinkled clothes. It was nothing she hadn’t seen from him before, especially the opening weekend of a new game, but she always had advance notice about releases, and he hadn’t mentioned one. A high-pitched, badly accented “yippee” came from inside the apartment. He was playing Mario Kart. He only played Mario Kart on his darkest days.
She stuffed the letter into his hand, ignoring the flutter in her stomach. “This will... well, I hope you’ll read it.”
He opened the folded sheet, his fingers brushing against the Wilderness Weekend tickets she had taped to the lower half. “These were a gift.”
“I know, but after everything... You can resell them, probably for a lot of money,” she said, trying to calculate how late she would be. Kate knew she was coming and wouldn’t let Will think otherwise.
He skimmed the page in front of him, his countenance giving nothing away. He looked up, refolding the paper, the Wilderness tickets in his hand. “Keep them.”
“Are you—no, I can’t.” She pushed them back into his hand, regret already filling her as she did it. She wanted those tickets. She would have to pay triple the face value to get them after this. Her phone vibrated in her purse, not for the first time. She pulled it out, mainly as a distraction from watching Brian stare down at the tickets he had worked so hard to get. Shit. There were two messages from Kate already and one from Will.
She gripped her phone. “I really have to go.”
Brian nodded, a funny look spreading across his face, somewhere between nostalgic and forlorn. His mouth quirked at the corners, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Good luck, Hannah.”
She stepped back from the doorway. “Goodbye, Brian.”
Chapter 13Will
She was here. In white. For their wedding. Sweat beaded at Will’s temple. Kate’s reassurances that Hannah was just running a little late had done nothing to quell the terror that she’d changed her mind, that he’d lost her before he ever had her. Hannah hated to be late, often chastising him for what she called “Will-time”—plus or minus thirty minutes to any arrival time, on a good day. She appeared calm—a bit harried from rushing, but he couldn’t sense any doubt in her. Her smile brightened as she listened to Eddie’s story of how he came to be a registered minister during pledging freshmen year and how that had earned him “Rev” as his pledge name. Hannah slipped her hand into Will’s, squeezing lightly, and Eddie straightened his shoulders. Kate graciously accepted Hannah’s small bouquet of paper flowers—a surprise gift from Hannah’s sister. Will looked between his friends, once the most important pieces of his life. Maybe life really was cyclical.
“Are you okay?” Hannah asked, leaning into him.
He brought their entwined hands up to his lips, kissing her left hand where shortly a wedding band would rest. Her gaze remained sharp and tinted with concern.
“Never better, Abbott.”
“Hey now,” Eddie said, cupping his hand over theirs. “Save that for the finale.”
Will hadn’t told him the whole truth or, rather, any of the truth. Eddie would’ve still married them out of respect for his friendship with Will. Brothers didn’t deny brothers unless drugs, death, or physical harm were involved. Will had assured him that it wasn’t a shotgun situation, but Eddie wasn’t stupid. He’d been there the day Madison and Jon’s affair rocked the Thornes. He’d been there in the months after. So even if he didn’t know about Hannah and Will’s arrangement, he knew enough.
“Ladies and gentleman,” Eddie began, his eyes comically sweeping over each of them. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Will and Hannah, two of the best people I know. To know them is to love them, and though Will and Hannah haven’t been together all that long, I’m not surprised that we’re standing here today. If you search your hearts, I suspect you aren’t surprised either.”
Will wondered if Eddie had expected more people. Eddie had personalized his opening, and though he was only talking to Kate and Stephanie, who Will hadn’t even known was coming, his speech still sounded as if he spoke to a room full of people. He wasn’t being glib either. Eddie, for all they’d razzed on him in college, took marrying people very seriously. Once, after too many beers, Eddie had explained that, in some way, he felt a responsibility for the couples he married, be they friends, family, or friends of family.
“Marriage is a risk, a leap of faith, perhaps more so than any other choice in your life. Because it is a choice. Will, Hannah, you two are choosing each other, choosing to embrace and strengthen and grow the love you have for each other. Now,” he said, pausing to give the couple a knowing smirk, “you just have to continue to choose each other for the rest of your lives.”
Will caught Hannah’s eye. They were as golden as ever, hinting that her mood was at the very least still good and calm.
She broke away from him, turning the full power of her smile on Eddie. “Easy-peasy.”
“Easy-peasy indeed.” Eddie held up his hand, and Hannah high-fived him without hesitation.
