From anyone else, that line might have been humorous and cutesy, but from Jonathan, it was throwing the gauntlet. He didn’t believe for one second that they were in love. Determination spread through her, taking root in the pit of her stomach, and from the shadowed look on Will’s face, he felt the same way—challenge accepted.

Chapter 21Will

Try as they might, no one in the Thorne family was a night owl. Not even Daniel, despite a lifetime of overnight shifts ahead of him. Will wasn’t either, but this house never let him sleep. He liked to think that it was his mom’s way of letting him know she was there, choosing him to keep her company like he had as a surly kid and then a teenager terrified of losing his mother. He’d always stayed awake for her, listening to her stories and telling his own. She knew his greatest secrets, which as a fairly normal teenager hadn’t been that big. He knew her fears, regrets, and hopes for each of them.

Even lying in bed next to the girl he’d dreamed about for the last eight years, he felt the pull of the house. Hannah, though she must have been accustomed to sharing a bed at least some of the time, was a bed hog. It was adorable. Last night, she had tossed and turned, almost taking out his knee cap. Tonight, she was sprawled across the bed, her arm slung over Will’s torso, her head resting next to his shoulder. At any other house, on any other night, this would be heaven. But Hannah had done her telltale giggle by the time they returned to their room after accepting Jon’s offer for a nightcap, and this house and all its memories haunted him. At least he didn’t have to worry about anyone spilling the Madison beans—if there was anything his family understood, it was secrets and decorum. Not to mention he’d spent the entire day threatening Jon and Madison within an inch of their lives. And while his father hadn’t sought him out yet, Will knew Jonathan would keep the truth in his back pocket, a grenade waiting to be detonated.

Will sidled his way out of bed, pulling the comforter up over Hannah’s shoulders. She immediately flopped over, pulling it even tighter around herself. It would be nice to stay there and pretend that her cuddles were more than tipsy sleep habits, but he wouldn’t sleep for many hours. Maybe he wouldn’t sleep at all if he stayed here. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Hannah’s cheek, whispering a good night. She turned back over, her arm stretching to where he would’ve been if his restless mind had let him stay. 

Will didn’t bother wandering the halls anymore. He knew where he had to go to settle his mind. He walked directly to the back of the house, down a long hall to an old sunroom that had been closed off and redesigned by his mother. All these years later, he couldn’t think of it as anything other than “Mom’s Room.” In the past few months—since Madison and Jon—he had finally come to understand why she loved it so.

The room had picture windows perfect for viewing the expanse of the yard and the woods beyond it but also a fireplace for the chilly nights. His mother designed it so she could go from reading in the natural sunlight to reading by the firelight. There was no television or phone, only a desk nestled into a nook opposite the picture windows and a small stereo she’d never let Jonathan upgrade. He turned the system on now, hearing the whir of the CD in its cradle. It was weird to think there were people who’d never known that sound. Wilderness Weekend filled the space, loud enough for him to relax into the melodies he’d long ago memorized but quiet enough that he wouldn’t bother anyone and no one would bother him.

He ran his finger across the desk—not a speck of dust. His mother had always kept her laptop and stack upon stack of papers there. She kept information about the various charities she and Jonathan contributed to and lists of key members and prominent clients—everything she needed as a wife of the wealthy. It sat empty now, all of her responsibilities long ago assigned to an assistant. Though the room was cleaned weekly, it was otherwise left untouched, a relic of another life.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Perfect. Madison.

“You don’t look happy to see me,” she said, shutting the door behind her.

Will touched his wedding band, kneading the metal as if willing Madison to turn around and forget they’d ever been a thing. Harsh had been his perpetual tone with Madison for months, but when he committed to Hannah, he made a promise to himself that he would go for simply standoffish, if not cold. He didn’t have to like Madison, but he was moving forward with his life, and he couldn’t properly do that if he was stuck in the past. That was why the next words out of his mouth weren’t “leave me alone.”

“Thank you for not saying anything to Hannah about us.” His voice stuck on every part of that sentence. He hadn’t thanked Madison for anything—not even passing the creamer at brunch—since everything happened. It had been a small act of defiance that made him feel the teensiest bit better, petty as it might have been.

“Of course. Though I don’t know how long you can get away with keeping that secret.” She paused, studying him. “You are planning on telling her, right?”

He had planned on telling her on the drive up, once they’d arrived, or any time in the last two weeks. But when was the appropriate time to tell his wife her sister-in-law was also her bajingo sister, a homewrecker, and the person who had utterly destroyed his life? He couldn’t bear the look that would cross her face the moment the truth came out—not from Hannah. She was the only important person in his life who didn’t pity him like that, who still believed only great things for him.

“Hannah likes you,” he said. “She’s excited to have another woman to help her, and I quote, ‘navigate the intricacies of the Thorne boys.’”

“That’s not—”

“Come on, Madison. What if the situation was reversed?” He met her eyes, which were locked on him. It had been so long since he’d really looked at her, but they were the same eyes— still adorably wide and mesmerizing green.

“Yeah, yeah, I’d hate me.”

He looked away, his stomach roiling. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him—agreeing with Madison, keeping secrets. All that lying was what had gotten him here. Hannah deserved the truth. “I’m going to tell her.”

Without him realizing it, Madison had crossed the room. She stood inches from him. “I won’t say anything, William. Not unless she says something first.”

“Why?” He wouldn’t have questioned anyone else, but meddling was one of Madison’s specialties, and the sanctity of commitments was not high on her priority list. She had barely shown any remorse for her actions both to and with Will. Her hand had slipped from one Thorne to the next, and that was that. Except in the middle of the night when she had clearly missed the younger model.

“Whatever you may think, I do care about you.” Will braced for Madison’s touch, but her  hand didn’t move from the arm of the chair. “And if Hannah makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”

He almost believed her. But Madison was ever the actress. The glint in her eye hinted at ulterior motives. He could guess at them, but he couldn’t go down that road anymore. It only led to more despair and lies and messiness. He would warn Hannah about Madison. It had only been a day. It wasn’t like the two women were exchanging friendship bracelets.

“Do you think...” she said, hedging. Madison never hedged. “Do you think your mother would’ve hated me?”

Had they been in any other room, it would’ve been as far out in left field as you could get. But she knew why his wanderings always brought him there. Madison knew everything.

“I don’t know,” he said after several seconds of silence. The question had crossed his mind, but he’d never come up with a sound answer. Hating Madison betrayed Jon—loving her hurt Will. It was a lose-lose situation. He was glad Mom wasn’t here to decide between her sons.

“Do you hate me?”

Will crossed the room to the picture window and stared into the darkness. “Let’s not do this, Madison.”

“So, you do hate me,” she said, and he swore there was melancholy in her voice, a quiver to the statement that didn’t fit.

“No good would come from my answering that question,” he said, trying to be diplomatic. What answer could she have possibly expected? Of course he hated her. He hated her in the way he could only despise someone he had loved—deeply, completely, and sometimes not at all. “You’re about to be my sister-in-law, so whether I hate you or not is irrelevant.”

“It’s not irrelevant to me.”

He turned to face her, relieved to find her standing by the doorway. Madison might be a meddler, but she also knew when to fold. “I hated you a little less today.”

WILL DIDN’T KNOW HE could have an emotional hangover, but after only a day and a half in the Hamptons, his head felt like it was in a vise grip, and he was literally itchy. He’d woken up to an empty bed and a note that Hannah had gone to find sustenance. She wasn’t in the kitchen, though according to Renata, she’d been there earlier. Will sat down by himself in the dining room with a heaping plate of eggs, bacon, and two full English muffins slathered with orange marmalade. He shot Hannah a quick text before diving in. He didn’t often get to claim this table as his own. It was rejuvenating. Bit by bit, he was taking back what Jon and Madison had stolen.

As the first sips of coffee hit his system, his head started to clear. He tried to cast off the memory that had been haunting him since his late-night conversation with Madison. Memorial Day Weekend, during the first big party of the summer, he’d found Madison and Jon locked in an embrace deep within Renata’s kitchen, the sounds of the party muffled by all the stainless steel. Jon’s pants hung low on him, and Madison’s dress was scrunched up over her hips. Will had dropped the bottle of wine he’d retrieved, shattering—

“Morning, little brother,” Jon said, sitting down across from Will.

Will blinked twice, snapping out of it. He should’ve known better. There was no being alone at the Thorne mansion, and even when he was alone, the weight of expectation was a constant companion. And Jon had built-in Will radar. If Will wasn’t hiding out in his room—as far away from his family as he could get—Jon found him. Will knew what his brother was trying to do. He also knew it would never work. There was no going back if he married her—when he married her. Jon thought that the fact that his love for Madison was the real thing would make everything better. Maybe it would to the outside world, but to Will, that only made it more unforgiveable.

“And now my appetite is gone,” Will said, piling his silverware on his plate.

“Can I have your muffin, then?” Jon reached across the table, but Will pulled the plate back toward himself. “Come on. Don’t act like a child. You sat in a public space.”

Will wanted to argue more—his brother could’ve kept walking, found literally any other place to sit—but he also wanted to finish his breakfast. He glanced at his phone, still no word from Hannah. Maybe she’d made a run for it. It wouldn’t be the first time his family had scared a woman off in a day. He picked his silverware back up and scanned the latest headlines in hopes of deterring his brother from further conversation.

Three bites into his eggs, Jon cleared his throat.

That couldn’t be good. Will looked up expectantly.

Jon stared at him, his expression hesitant and curious. “Hannah seems cool,” he said after a beat. “You two are a good fit.”

“We think so,” Will said, returning to his breakfast. He couldn’t be nice to Jon. Once he opened that door, Jon would lodge himself inside and wouldn’t give an inch. Well enough wasn’t in Jon’s repertoire, and the longer Will shared a room with Jon—literally and metaphorically—the more likely he was to punch him in the face.

“I was thinking, you know, now that you’re married—” Jon paused, uncertainty flashing across his face before he plowed on. “Maybe you would consider giving a speech at the wedding or the rehearsal dinner?”

What. The. Fuck?

Will took a breath then another. He counted to ten, twenty, and thirty, giving his brother a chance to take it back, giving himself the self-control to not leap across the table. Jon couldn’t be serious. And yet, it was clear from the open expression on his face that he thought it was a reasonable request.

Will ran a hand along his forehead, stopping to massage his temple. He tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible and devoid of the well of sarcasm brewing under his chest. “No, I will not give a speech at your wedding.”