“WE’RE HERE,” WILL SAID as they turned onto a circle drive.
Hannah’s breath caught as she took in the mansion. She’d heard about the wealth of the Hamptons, had seen it on television shows, but it was all Hollywood magic and hearsay until now. “Holy shit.”
“My dad bought it for my mom for their twentieth wedding anniversary,” he said as they pulled in next to a Mercedes. And she thought his rarely used Lexus was a luxury. “It was her favorite place in the whole world.”
“How old were you then?” She wondered if he noticed how his voice changed whenever he spoke about his mother. It took on a soft and faraway tone, his memories showing through.
“Thirteen or so? We’d always vacationed out here, but this place was obviously something completely special.”
His mother had only had her haven for five years. Not nearly long enough. Or perhaps perfectly long enough because she’d shared it with all her boys. Hannah wished she knew. For all the drama with his father, the original Mrs. Thorne seemed the picture of an affectionate and caring mother, the best you could hope for in this world.
She placed her hand over his again. “Is it hard coming here?”
He laughed lightly, turning his hand over and intertwining their fingers. “It was at first. But now, it’s where I feel closest to her. This was her house. She had a hand in every aspect of its design and decoration. I think—I know that’s why my dad can’t sell it.”
They stepped out of the car.
“I wish I could’ve met her.”
Will rested his elbow on the roof of his Lexus. In the driveway lights, she could just make out the wistful expression playing across his face. “Well, I like to think that in some mystical way, she brought us together. Nothing else could’ve driven me out of New York—especially not to the cornfields of Iowa.”
She rolled her eyes. “We were hardly in the cornfields.”
He walked around the car and took her hand in his. “Are you ready to face the firing squad?”
She glanced up at the mostly dark house. “Is anyone even awake?”
“Oh, I’m sure someone’s awake.” He led them toward the front door. “Daniel isn’t even here yet.”
Daniel, the doctor. Hannah had a running list of Thorne family members in her head as well as the creative and not-so-nice descriptors Will had given each of them, Daniel being the exception.
He squeezed her hand, and she was surprised to note that she didn’t feel the weight of his hand in hers anymore. She’d already gotten used to it. It was the same with his sweet pecks on her cheeks. But as much as their natural flow and banter filled in enough blanks to make people think they were in love, she knew they were going to need more than that to get through an entire weekend with his overly observant family.
She stopped him at the base of the stairs leading to the house. “Will, wait.”
“Everything okay?”
Hannah took in the sight of him—the rigid set of his shoulders, the stress lines near his eyes. He was putting on a good show for her, but Will was nervous. She stepped closer and, without overthinking it, pressed her lips against his. His lips parted slightly, letting her in, but she felt him holding back, even as a spark shot through her.
She stepped away. Will stared down at her, awestruck. He hadn’t been expecting that. And why would he? Hannah hadn’t dropped hints that she wanted more than Will was giving. She wasn’t sure if that’s what she did want. There was so much at stake—most importantly, their friendship. She didn’t want to lose it again and not over kissing. “I just thought... I imagine we’re going to have to lay it on pretty heavy this weekend, and we haven’t—”
“You’re right.” He leaned down and kissed her again. It started light, but Hannah leaned into him, letting her arms come up around his neck. He smiled against her before breaking the kiss and running a cold finger across her flushed cheeks. “Good thinking, Abbott.”
“You probably shouldn’t call me that in front of your family,” she said with a smile.
“Right again.” He started up the steps, reclaiming her hand as he did. “Have you been in a fake marriage before?”
She laughed, though her nerves were getting the best of her. She took a breath, trying to calm her quickening pulse and the clamminess coming over her the closer they got to the door. It was silly to be this nervous. Even if Will’s family didn’t believe they were in love, there was nothing anyone could do. Their marriage was legal and binding. Will would secure his place at Wellington Thorne. But she wanted them to like her. Disapproving in-laws would only make everything harder, particularly with eleven more mandatory family weekends ahead of them, not to mention his brother’s wedding. If the mansion proved anything, that event was going to be like nothing Hannah had ever seen.
“Should I call you William?”
“Please don’t,” Will said, leading her into the house. Her eyes scanned the space, taking in the picturesque staircase and the giant chandelier. Seriously, they could host weddings in this place. “I prefer Will. It reminds me of better times.” He squeezed her hand. “My mom always called me Will.”
She flushed at the comment, her racing thoughts silencing and her heart calming. Romantic or not, she held a special place in Will’s heart. The urge to protect him swelled in her again.
She kissed him on the cheek. “Okay. Will, it is, then.”
With a final deep breath, Will led her through the labyrinth of the mansion. Every so often, he would point something out or tell her a story. She wondered if there was a map to the estate. What if she had to pee in the middle of the night? Who was she kidding? In this house, every bedroom probably had a bathroom.
They finally stopped at the entrance to what could only be called a den. A large wood fireplace burned low in the hearth. A couple that had to be Jon and Madison sat on one of the three couches, their backs to the door. They leaned into each other, heads almost touching as they talked. The Thorne patriarch was nowhere in sight.
Will cleared his throat. “Jon. Madison.”
They pulled apart enough to turn and look at Will. Hannah envied that level of comfort—to not be ashamed of your affection but to bask in it.
“Good evening, William.” Jon’s eyes lingered on Hannah for a beat too long. “And...?”
“This is Hannah... my wife.” Will’s smile reeked of something akin to smugness. She had expected that with his father, but not Jon—she didn’t know the whole story, but whatever was between them, it was big.
Silence ricocheted around the room, bouncing from Jon to Madison and back to Will and Hannah. She hadn’t thought Will would be so direct, though there wasn’t really a subtle way to introduce your new wife to your family. Maybe it was better to just tear the Band-Aid off.
After another excruciatingly long exchange of confused looks, Jon cleared his throat and lifted himself from the sofa. He offered Madison a hand, and Hannah saw the silent conversation between them. With a what the hell shrug, Madison accepted his hand and allowed herself to be drawn to her feet.
And Madison was gorgeous—all dark waves and deep brown eyes and curves.
They came around the sofa and stopped in front of Will and Hannah. Will’s hand slid down Hannah’s back, and she had never been more grateful for his touch.
