“Umm... it’s just a bit strong.” The urge to shield her offensive outsider coffee from Renata overwhelmed her, and she wrapped both hands around the paper cup.
Renata’s eyes narrowed, but then the smallest of laughs escaped her lips. “Can’t say I don’t agree. Come with me.”
Hannah thought her wanderings from that morning had given her a solid understanding of the house layout, but she had no idea where Renata was taking her. They might as well have been crawling through a secret passage behind the walls.
They went through a part of the house with its own vibes. Nothing was dusty, but everything seemed older, from the style to the personal pictures of the boys as kids—something the rest of the house lacked. She stopped to pick up a picture of a young Will curled against the hip of his mother. Will resembled Jonathan, but wow, he was his mother’s son.
“Miss?”
Hannah took a few quick steps and found herself at the back of the kitchen. She followed Renata through the pantry, past the appliances, and to the front where breakfast had been set up that morning. She grabbed a plate and a cranberry muffin, taking a seat on one of the stools. Renata placed an oversized mug in front of her. It wasn’t anything she would have expected to find in this house with its fine china for a continental breakfast. Hannah spun it around. University of Iowa was on the other side. It was Will’s mug. It had to be. She distinctly remembered the morning he chipped the handle and his resolve to use the mug through graduation anyway. That had been October of junior year.
“Has Will been down yet?” Hannah asked, sipping her still-warm coffee.
Renata nodded, her attention focused on the vegetables she was chopping. “I saw him heading out in his trainers right before you came in.”
Right. Of course he’d be out for another run. Hannah pulled out her phone and found a text message confirming this information—a series of messages, upon further review. She typed out a quick text with one hand, picking up Will’s mug with the other. She stood up, raising the cup to Renata in farewell. She smiled back, laughter playing across her face. Was Renata like this with all the women the boys brought home? Probably not—Madison had barely registered Renata’s existence. Hannah held her coffee close to her chest. She had found another ally.
She meandered through the halls, certain if she kept going straight, she would find a room with a fireplace. It would be nice to sit in the glow of a fire, relax, contemplate life—or at least text Kate the latest details. She’d promised a live-texting event but had sent only two texts since Friday night. Fate had other plans. The door next to her opened, revealing none other than Jonathan himself. Crap.
She smiled wanly and waved with the hand that didn’t hold her contraband coffee. Jonathan did not wave back or smile but rather nodded. “Ah, Miss Abbott,” he said, his tone placid. “Or I suppose Mrs. Thorne?”
“Hannah is fine,” she said, trying to keep her tone neutral. Jonathan was prickly and could insult a person without ever saying anything negative and keeping a completely sanguine smile on his face. Will had warned her. She was prepared not to react, but seeing it in action and having it directed at her created quite an exercise in self-control.
“As you wish. I was hoping to chat with you without my son, if that’s amenable?”
She nodded her approval and then followed him into what appeared to be an office. In the middle of the room sat a giant mahogany desk whittled to spectacular detail. It was every writer’s dream desk and something a writer’s salary could never afford—at least, not her salary. Jonathan took a seat behind the desk in an oversized leather chair. He motioned for Hannah to sit across from him. Even the chairs were designed to intimidate. They were low to the ground with equal heights in the arms and the back. They created a George Bailey-versus-Mr. Potter dynamic. Well, the joke was on Jonathan—the Mr. Potters of the world never won.
“I have something for you,” Jonathan said once they were both seated. He held out a large manila envelope.
Hannah glanced at it warily before accepting it. “What’s this?”
He motioned for her to open it, but she left it in her lap. Whatever was in this envelope, Hannah knew instinctively she wanted no part of it.
“Please,” he added when she didn’t move.
She pulled out the document, taking in the top line: Petition for Marriage Annulment.
Hannah’s eyes flicked up to his, anger and shock warring inside her—anger because how dare he make assumptions, and shock because it was Sunday morning, and he’d only found out yesterday afternoon.
“My son can be quite impetuous,” Jonathan said to her silent accusation, “especially after a broken heart. And I must say, his last broken heart was quite thorough.”
“I am aware,” Hannah said curtly.
“Are you? Well, then you can see why I might find it suspect that my son was in his right mind when he married you. And if I’m not mistaken, you yourself only just got out of a relationship.”
He’d had her looked into? Who did this man think he was? Hannah waited a moment before answering him. Her response needed to be perfect and not the string of profanities she wanted to hurl at him.
“There’s no harm in taking a step back if, perhaps, you feel you two rushed things,” Jonathan continued before she could respond.
“Will and I are happy, sir.” She added the salutation after a beat, hoping it sounded as petulant as it felt. “There was no mistake in our decision.”
“Be that as it may, I can’t have my son risking half his fortune because the girl he once fancied himself in love with decided to glance his way.”
She trained her expression to neutral, though her heart pounded—both because of the delicate situation and the implication that Will was indeed in love with her. Jonathan would not rattle her. She would not give him the satisfaction.
“And if you actually love each other, why not annul the marriage now and give it a go the old-fashioned way? Then get married again with a prenuptial agreement in place. No harm done.”
Hannah swallowed the rage boiling inside her. “I do love your son.”
“And the fact that you could gain a significant manner of wealth if this marriage should go south in a year, a few years, or if an heir were to come of it, had nothing to do with the brash decision to marry him?”
“I didn’t marry Will for his money.” Hannah’s pulse pounded in her head. She’d expected plenty of things from that weekend, but Jonathan’s attempt to overturn the marriage wasn’t one of them. “I was doing just fine on my own.”
“Ah, so ‘just fine’ is now underpaid editor for a no-name magazine that doesn’t even offer health insurance? Interesting.”
Hannah didn’t know if she was more insulted at the dig at her integrity and her livelihood or at the fact that he had figured her out in less than twenty-four hours. “I have loved your son for close to a decade. Three months ago, that love turned romantic. He asked me to marry him. I said yes, but I didn’t want to spend two years of our lives planning a wedding. He agreed. End of story.”
“I’m sure that’s not the end of the story.” His tone was icy and contemptuous. He wasn’t playing polite now. He wanted those papers signed.
“And if I sign the papers?”
“You can date William, if you like.” Jonathan Thorne wasn’t a frivolous man, but his comment held all the attributes of a good shrug.
Hannah realized then that he didn’t care about the aftermath. He wanted his son’s money—his money—handed down and protected, and he wanted to discredit Will. Could this still be about the board position?
“Or go out and find your true love and forget any of this happened,” Jonathan said. “You’ll both be better for it. If anything, I’m sure of that. William is too much heart. He always has been. You and I both know this—that is how he ended up in Iowa, after all.”
She did know that, and it was precisely why she loved him. The world needed more men to lead with their hearts. Hannah stood up, finished with Jonathan and his insinuations and presumptions, and dropped the annulment papers back on his desk. “I know who Will is. Nothing you do is going to make me change my mind about him.”
