Will led her through the hotel and down to the lobby. His hand clasped hers, loose but secure, always keeping her close. As they made their way down a winding hallway, music started to filter in, muffled only by distance. There were occasional loud bursts every time someone opened the door to the ballroom. They reached a vestibule where discarded table numbers sat forgotten. Will glanced through them and picked up a pair from Table 17—one she knew would definitely be in the back and on the bride’s side.
“What’s going on, Will?”
He opened the door to the ballroom. A familiar ballad was just finishing up, the bride on the dance floor with her father. Will grinned. “If anyone asks, I’m the bride’s cousin twice removed on her mother’s side.”
She’d married a wedding crasher. “Will.”
“We deserve a reception and a first dance, albeit a little delayed.”
“We do?”
“Come on, honey.” Hannah felt her cheeks heat again. Honey. It hadn’t been patronizing or playful. It had come off his lips with some endearment behind it. “Don’t you want a story to tell the kids one day?”
“Kids?” The word cut the breath from her chest. Kids were not part of their equation. Before she could wipe the shock off her face or formulate a reply, he was grinning at her again.
“Okay, fine. Don’t you at least want a story to tell our friends and family over Thanksgiving?”
Good God, Thanksgiving. She knew she would have to tell her family eventually, just not in a few weeks. But, yes, she did want a story to tell. She wanted real memories with Will, not just ones from almost a decade ago. Tightening her grip on his hand, she let him guide her into the ballroom. Guests were crowding the bar and making their way back to their seats for the salad course. Will led her to their table and pulled out her chair before introducing himself to the only other guest at the table.
Hannah took the moment to catch her breath. The past six days had been a whirlwind. But at the same time, she felt as comfortable with him as if they never fell out of contact. That’s how it was between them. That’s what had made her love him all those years ago. Once, this night would’ve been her dream. For a small part of her, maybe it still was. She recalled the memory of the pact—the one that had been playing on repeat for so many days now—to the kiss and his drunken request that she cancel her trip to Europe with Kate and instead spend the summer with him in New York. She hadn’t thought that he’d meant it. At least, not in a real way.
Will’s hand squeezed her shoulder, and Hannah turned a smile on the middle-aged gentlemen sitting next to him.
“This is my wife, Hannah,” Will said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
The man nodded at her, his hands occupied with buttering a dinner roll. “Ronald Wayland. Will tells me you two are newlyweds yourself.”
The lighting in the room changed from blue to red, and the music faded into a quiet ballad as guests returned to their seats for dinner. The song was one she’d heard far too often on her coffee runs. She clasped Will’s hand, pulling him away from whatever conversation he’d been having. “Dance with me?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said, his smile growing.
They fell into the sway of the ballad. Hannah felt everywhere their bodies touched—his hands on the small of her back, her fingers at the base of his neck, the length of their torsos aligning. Goosebumps rose on her skin as one of his hands came up and caressed her arm. Her whole body shuddered at the intensity of that single touch. But this was Will. Will, whom she had married for health insurance. Will, who’d had her alone in a hotel room for three days and hadn’t tried a thing. There was his ex-girlfriend and her ex-boyfriend to consider. Two rebounds, a legally binding marriage, and sex did not make for the best combination. A year was a long time to be together if whatever she was feeling was a symptom of the lights and the music and the ring on her left hand.
Hannah inched closer to him. Will’s hands bunched in her dress as he looked down at her, his eyes forming a question. Then the lights came up, and the song faded out. Couples deserted the dance floor as the DJ announced the main course.
Will smiled and placed the softest of kisses on her cheek. “Thank you for the dance, Mrs. Thorne.”
Chapter 16Hannah
HANNAH STARED UP AT her new apartment building. She still couldn’t quite believe that she lived on the Upper East Side or that their apartment had a park view and was within falling distance of Museum Mile. The apartment wasn’t actually Will’s but one of the family’s apartments. Will had moved in after splitting with his ex. He’d been unable to bear the constant reminders in his old apartment, so it remained vacant, as he was unwilling to give up his prime location in Tribeca.
Since Hannah didn’t have a built-in nest egg, she took Will and Kate’s suggestion to sublet her apartment, something she knew very little about but which both said was the norm. All she knew was that she still paid the rent, and the money would magically reappear in her checking account. Kate’s query about the differences in Will and Hannah’s lifestyles made more sense now. Will would never have to live somewhere with spotty heat or wonder how he was going to make rent or if that late payment was going to ruin any future renting opportunities. True, his father could ask them to move out at any point in the next year—and very well might when he found out they were married—but even a few months rent-free would give her savings account some nice padding.
Will walked out of the high-rise, his suit jacket swapped for one that looked the same as the one he claimed didn’t match. But what did she know about expensive suits?
“Sorry about that, Abbott,” he said, sliding his hand into hers.
She perked up at the nickname. In the five days they’d been married, he’d almost exclusively called her Mrs. Thorne, even though she wasn’t changing her name. It was cute, but she’d always been Abbott to him.
“So why are you all stressed out about your clothing if you are not seeing your dad today or telling anyone that you got married?” she asked, nudging him with her hip.
He’d explained it—that he wanted to tell everyone at once at the upcoming family weekend. Otherwise, the rumor mill would turn the story before it got to his father. She understood his trepidation, as she intended to tell her family never, but that didn’t explain his tension now.
“Welcome to my life at Wellington Thorne.”
“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.”
